Page 11 of More Than a Hero (Baytown Heroes #12)

"How did your date go last night?"

Angie glanced up from the loaf of bread in her hands, catching her mother’s expectant gaze. A slow grin tugged at her lips, but before she could answer, her gaze flickered to her grandmother, whose bright blue eyes twinkled with mischief. Angie shook her head, feigning exasperation.

"What?" Grandma Dorothy asked, her laugh light and knowing.

“Were the two of you gossiping about me?” Angie teased, arching a brow.

Her grandmother’s smile only widened. "I just might have mentioned something," she admitted, eyes brimming with amusement. “But when we talk about you, dear, it’s not gossiping.”

“Oh?” Angie challenged, biting back a smile. “Then what would you call it?”

Her mother smirked as she added another slice of turkey to a sandwich. "Caring conversation."

Angie lost the battle and laughed aloud, shaking her head.

The three women stood in her mother’s cozy kitchen, the scent of fresh bread and peanut butter, jelly, lunch meats, and cheese lingering in the air as they worked.

Twice a month, they gathered here to make bagged lunches for older shut-ins.

The Easy Breezy Lunches program had been Angie’s idea.

It was a way to bridge the gap for those shut-ins when Meals on Wheels couldn’t fully cover their needs.

Before she could offer details about her date, the back door swung open. A crisp breeze drifted in as her father and grandfather entered, each carrying stacks of bread.

"More supplies!" her father announced, setting the loaves on the counter.

Grandpa Stan clapped his hands together. "Let’s get to work. Can’t have our friends going hungry."

Within moments, the five of them fell into a well-rehearsed rhythm of spreading condiments, layering meats, bagging up sandwiches, chips, cookies, and apples. The warm, familiar chatter filled the kitchen like a melody Angie had known all her life.

"I'm still waiting on an answer," her mother reminded, breaking the hum of activity.

Her father looked up from sealing a sandwich bag. "An answer to what?"

"Mom was asking about my date last night," Angie said, suddenly feeling every pair of eyes turn to her. She hesitated, then shrugged, attempting nonchalance. "It was fine."

Her mother stopped mid-reach for a bag of chips, narrowing her eyes. "Just… fine?"

Angie smothered a chuckle. “Okay, okay. Actually, it was perfect.”

Grandma Dorothy’s brows lifted with interest. “A perfect date? Well, now, that’s something worth talking about.”

She grinned, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "We met at Roy's Barbecue—Oh! That reminds me, I have leftovers for you and Grandpa. Pete ordered an entire extra meal just to be sure you had enough."

Grandpa Stan’s eyes widened with approval. "Well, I like him already!"

Laughter rippled through the kitchen as they continued their work, their easy companionship surrounding Angie like a soft embrace. She glanced around, taking in the simple beauty of the moment—the warmth of her parents’ home, the love and familiarity woven into every shared meal and teasing remark.

She had this. She had them. She had a family who loved without conditions. One that gathered on Saturdays to give back, to laugh, to be together. She had what Pete had never known. And maybe, just maybe, she had found someone to share it with.

Angie jolted at the sound of her mother’s voice, blinking as she pulled herself back into the present. "I’m sorry, did you say something?"

Her mother gave her a knowing smile. “I just wondered if there was anything else you could tell us about him, besides the fact that he’s a detective.”

A warmth spread through Angie’s chest before she even realized she was smiling.

“He works with at-risk youth,” she blurted out, the words tumbling free before she could filter them.

It wasn’t the first thing she’d planned to say, but somehow, it was the first thing that came to mind.

Maybe because it had left such an impression on her.

He had so effortlessly stepped into their lives, offering guidance and understanding their struggles without judgment.

She glanced between her parents and grandparents, feeling their quiet interest. Without giving away too much of Pete’s personal history, she recounted seeing him at the YMCA, the way he interacted with the young men.

"Thinking about those kids makes me realize how lucky I am," she admitted, gesturing to the rows of brown paper bag lunches stacked neatly in the boxes her father had just sealed. “Even now, just something as small as this… it reminds me that I’ve always had family looking out for me.”

Her father’s expression softened as he considered her words. “I take it the young men he works with don’t have that kind of stability?”

She shook her head. “We didn’t get into the specifics, but I’d bet most of them don’t.”

Grandma Dorothy sighed, her hands resting atop a loaf of bread as she looked wistfully toward the window. “Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone had loving mentors, whether they were true family or not?”

“And nice for us old folks to have young people around to keep our spirits high,” Grandpa Stan added with a grin, slipping an arm around Angie’s shoulders and giving her a squeeze.

The moment settled into something warm, something steady with love woven into every glance, every touch, and every unspoken understanding between them.

By the time they finished boxing up the last of the meals, a volunteer van had pulled into the driveway.

They all worked together to carry out the boxes, sending the meals off with well-wishes.

Angie hugged her parents and grandparents before stepping back. “I have some housework to tackle today. Grandma, if it’s okay, I’ll bring over that barbecue for your dinner tonight.”

“Oh, that would be lovely, sweetheart.”

With parting waves goodbye, Angie turned and headed back down the street to her own house.

The afternoon light filtered through the windows as she slipped inside, setting her bag by the door. The familiar quiet greeted her, yet her thoughts weren’t on the laundry she needed to do or the dishes in the sink. Her gaze kept straying to the sofa.

The very spot where she and Pete had talked last night. Where she had watched him open up just enough to reveal glimpses of the man beneath the badge. And where, in the stillness of that moment, his lips had brushed against hers.

Her breath hitched at the memory, and before she could stop herself, her fingertips ghosted over her mouth. She could still feel the press of his lips, the warmth lingering like an imprint on her skin. A slow, shivery awareness spread through her, curling in the pit of her stomach.

Shaking herself from the thought, she moved toward her dining table and pulled out her satchel, opening her laptop.

She skimmed her list of meetings for the week, reviewing the names of the senior residents she planned to check in on.

But as she stared at the screen, her grandmother’s words whispered through her mind once more.

Wouldn’t it be nice if everyone had loving mentors, whether they were true family or not?

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting beyond the screen, beyond the walls of her home. Ideas swirled in her mind like the shifting colors of a kaleidoscope—uncertain at first, blurred and scattered. Then suddenly, they clicked into place, forming something whole and beautiful.

And just like that, a new idea began to take root.

Angie snatched up her phone and fired off a text before she could second-guess herself. Are you busy?

The moment she hit send, she cringed, her nose scrunching in regret. Oh God. It’s Saturday. What if he’s on a date? Her stomach twisted at the thought. Ugh. Fine. If he is, then I don’t mind interrupting! Before she could spiral further, her phone dinged.

No. Just chilling at home. What’s up?

She hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. Should she just say it? Before she could decide, another message popped up.

And if you must know, while I’m chilling at home… I was thinking of you.

A slow, giddy warmth spread through her chest, and before she could stop it, a smile broke free. For a moment, she felt like a teenager again when the cutest guy in school had smiled at her. Not that it happened often, but when it did, it was the best feeling.

She quickly typed out a response. I had an idea I wanted to talk to you about.

As soon as she hit send, she winced. That was vague. Too vague. She should’ve given him more. But before she could fix it, his reply appeared.

Any idea you have, I’d love to hear. Anytime you want to talk, I’m ready.

Her heart skipped. She inhaled, fingers hovering over the screen. I know we said we’d see each other tomorrow, but is there any chance we could chat this evening?

Three dots appeared, then his reply filled her screen. Text? Email? Phone call? Video chat? Visit?

She laughed, shaking her head as she typed. I’d love to see you, but I’ll take anything.

His reply came instantly. Tell me when, and I’ll be at your door.

Her breath caught. The thought of seeing him again had her stomach flipping in excitement. I’m home for the rest of the day.

I’m coming now.

Angie shot up from her chair, an uncontrollable grin taking over as she did a quick, ridiculous happy dance in the middle of her living room. He’s coming now.

Her phone pinged again. What do you like on your pizza?

She paused, brow furrowing as she stared at the screen.

You don’t need to bring pizza! You bought dinner last night!

His response was immediate. What do you like on your pizza?

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. Any kind of meat, no mushrooms.

I’ll call it in, pick it up, and be at your door.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she typed back. See you soon.

She bolted upstairs, her mind racing. Okay, not panicking. Just making myself look… not like I was hanging out in the house.

She swapped out her lounge clothes for a pair of soft leggings and a bright, off-the-shoulder peasant blouse, something comfortable yet just cute enough.

Tugging her hair free from its messy bun, she ran a brush through it, letting the waves fall over her shoulders.

A touch of blush. A bit of mascara. And her favorite flavored lip balm.

Throwing open her closet, she grabbed her ballet flats and slipped them on before darting back downstairs.

With a glance at the clock, she headed into the kitchen and pulled out what she had for a salad. Might as well make something fresh to go with the pizza. She chopped crisp lettuce, diced a tomato, and tossed everything together with a light vinaigrette.

Just as she set the bowl aside, a knock sounded at the door.

She sucked in a breath. Then exhaled too fast because her lungs threatened to stop working. Throwing open the door, she found herself face-to-face with Pete. The sight of him nearly knocked the air from her chest again.

Dark jeans. A fitted gray Henley. That easy, almost-shy smile that made her heart trip over itself. And in his hands were two pizza boxes.

"Figured one might not be enough," he said, his voice carrying that low, warm rasp that sent a thrill straight through her.

She stared at him for half a second too long, feeling her heart race, feeling something inside her melt. Then she laughed, stepping aside. "Come in before I just keep staring."