“My car’s name is Susan.”
“Your car has a name?”
“She does.”
“All right, then. What shall we do with…Susan?”
She climbed inside and put the key in the ignition. There was a clicking sound, but it didn’t start.
“Dead battery, most likely,” I told her. “We can take care of it tomorrow.”
Rebel nodded and climbed out of the car. While she locked it up, I repacked the things she’d taken out of the boxes.
“What are you doing?” she asked when I lifted the first out of the boot.
“Taking this to the truck. Be right back.”
“Edge?” she shouted as I walked away.
I turned around. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
She was quiet on the way back to the ranch, but I sensed finding her belongings had given her a certain amount of comfort.
I pulled through the gates and drove past the main house. Typically, I’d stop and check in before driving the rest of the way to my place, but tonight, Rebel and I needed to talk.
“Hungry?” I asked when I led her into the kitchen from the garage.
“Starving.”
“Me too,” I said, feeling like a wanker for not thinking of it sooner. “I don’t have much, I’m afraid.”
She walked over and stood behind me when I opened the refrigerator. “No, you don’t.” She reached around and grabbed a handful of items and set them on the counter. “Pantry?” she asked, putting her hand on the doorknob.
I nodded.
“Wow. You can walk in it,” she gasped. Less than two minutes later, she brought more things out and set them on the counter with the items from the fridge.
“What are you doing?”
“Making us dinner.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
She looked into my eyes and smiled. “And if I don’t, what will we eat?”
“Right.” I stepped out of her way.
“Besides, who wouldn’t want to cook in this kitchen?”
I raised my hand as I took a seat on one of the barstools, and she laughed.
“Wow,” I said, thirty minutes later after taking a bite of what she’d made. “This is brilliant.”
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I love to cook.”
“Cook? God, woman, you could be a chef.” When her cheeks turned pink, I knew I was onto something. “Is that what you’d like to do?”