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“I really shouldn’t,” she demurred as she lifted her fork and dove back in.

Coop, God bless him, didn’t roll his eyes at her.

They’d nearly cleaned their plates the second time when headlights flashed through the window and the sound of brakes interrupted them.

Coop rose and glanced out the kitchen window. Her curiosity was sparked when he muttered a quiet curse. “Give me a minute, Macie.”

She waited until he left the kitchen to cross the room for her own peek outside. Janice VanMeter was climbing the stairs to the front porch.

Janice and Coop’s late wife had been best friends all through school and then as adults. Macie couldn’t understand why Coop would mind a visit from her. Janice, though sort of boring, was pretty nice.

Coop met her at the door, but didn’t invite her in. Macie couldn’t hear what they were saying, so she decided to move closer to the kitchen door. When her eavesdropping was still unsuccessful, she mentally said “to hell with it” and walked out into the foyer.

Janice saw her first and her eyes widened when Macie lifted her hand in a wave. “Hey, Janice.”

“Macie.” Janice’s gaze traveled from her to Coop and back again. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Macie walked over to Coop. “Just having some spaghetti. Coop makes a killer sauce. How have you been?”

It wasn’t until she moved closer that Macie began to feel like she’d made some faux pas, though she didn’t have a clue why. She and Janice were friendly, and until that moment, she’d thought Coop and Janice were, too.

When she stepped beside Coop, she realized he was standing rigidly and was suddenly tense, a far cry from the relaxed guy she’d just been eating supper with.

“I’m fine,” Janice replied with a smile that looked fake. “You two eat together often?”

Macie shook her head. “Oh no. Tonight’s the first time.”

Coop didn’t reply, either verbally or nonverbally, so Macie kept going. “He surprised me with the invite.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Janice said with just enough sadness that Macie almost invited her to join them. She knew that, like Coop, Janice missed Sharon terribly. Maybe she’d been having a bad night and come looking to spend time with someone who understood and appreciated her loss.

However, Coop wrapped his arm around her back, his fingers covertly digging into her waist in a way that had her falling silent. She wasn’t sure how he was able to do that, how he could convey his wishes to her without words, with mere touches, but she knew he wanted Janice to leave.

“It was nice of you to stop by,” Coop said at last. “Macie and I should get back to our supper before it gets cold.”

Janice seemed hesitant to leave, but then, she nodded slowly. “Sure. I’ll see you around sometime then. Good night.”

Macie waved. “See you later, Janice.”

They both stood in silence until the other woman had started her car and driven away.

Then Coop led her back to the kitchen. They returned to their seats, but neither of them bothered to eat anything more.

“Nice of Janice to stop by,” Macie said, fishing.

Coop nodded, but added nothing more. “You finished?”

“Yeah, I am. That was really good, Coop. Thanks.”

He took her plate and his to the sink, placing them in without rinsing them. When he returned, he reached out a hand to help her stand. She assumed the night was winding up. Needless to say, he threw her for a loop. Again.

“I told you to call me Hank.”

There was something in his tone, something dark and demanding and—God help her—sensual, that had her feeling almost guilty. “Sorry. That’s going to be a hard habit to break. Not sure I’ve ever heard anybody call you Hank.”

“Let me hear you say it.” Coop pulled her closer to him and once again, Macie licked her lips, hoping for another one of his kisses. Mercifully, they’d both eaten the spaghetti, so she wouldn’t be the only one with garlic on her breath.

“Hank,” she whispered.