Midnight Wrangler by Cat Johnson

turned sexy and alluring. His hard football-player’s body had filled out a bit, making him look even more solid and strong. And those eyes—his steely gaze still had the power to captivate her.
    She sighed. Her moment of diversion was over. She opened the car door and grabbed the bag of food and her purse. Time to get back to reality.
    Inside the house seemed stifling. Mentally. Physically. The clutter made the walls feel too close even as the hot air pressed against her. She probably shouldn’t have turned off the A/C to open all the windows on a day this sweltering, but she couldn’t bear feeling so contained. So trapped.
    Maybe once some of this stuff was out of the house it would seem better. Once the heavy curtains were taken down and the rooms bare, she’d feel better.
    There was a lot of work ahead of her, but first, food.
    Rather than let the smothering atmosphere of the house ruin her meal, she carried the bag of takeout outside. There was still an old picnic table in the yard. She walked to it now and noticed the grass had been recently cut.
    Given the state of her father’s health, she had a feeling she had one more thing to thank Andrew for next time she saw him.
    That brought up another concern—future maintenance of the property until she sold, or rented, or did whatever she decided to do with the place.
    This gift from her father, this bequest, was not a welcome one.
    It was almost as if he knew it would be a burden on her. Then again, maybe she was being paranoid. Lack of food could do that to a person.
    Her blood sugar was probably too low at this point, after the long drive and nothing but an energy drink in her system for the last few hours on the road.
    It didn’t help her hunger that the food smelled good enough to make her mouth water, but she had chosen to drive all the way home before taking even one bite.
    That could be corrected pretty fast. She broke into the bag and saw they’d put both paper napkins and a plastic fork and knife in the bag. Good, because she’d been in such a hurry to get out the back door, she hadn’t thought to stop and grab those items from the kitchen.
    Opening the lid of the container, she got the first look at what she’d been smelling for long enough to have her stomach grumbling in protest.
    She’d ordered what Rohn had recommended—the combo plate. Scooping up a forkful of mac and cheese, she took her first taste.
    The flavor filling her mouth was like sunshine. Bonnie couldn’t help but smile. She had doubted it could be as good as Rohn had promised, but it was. She’d remember not to doubt him again.
    There was no need for the knife, since the smoked brisket was so tender it broke apart with the fork. She took a taste and one more time she was struck with an explosion of sensation. It was as if her senses had been dormant and just now had awoken.
    How could a takeout combo plate of barbecue accomplish all that? Though maybe it was more than the food. Maybe she had put herself into a state of hibernation—a method of self-preservation when she’d fled this place all those years ago. It took coming home to bring her back to life.
    She must have been hungrier than she’d thought because though the portion was generous and she had been sure she’d have to put the leftovers in the fridge, she finished every last bite. All that remained was a partial container of barbecue sauce.
    The problem was now that Bonnie was done with her food she had no more excuse to sit idle, aside from not wanting to go back inside the house.
    Rallying the motivation to force herself into motion, she hoisted her stiff body off the old wooden bench. She put the garbage into the takeout bag and carried it to the trash can.
    Walking through the kitchen door, she realized it wasn’t as overwhelming being in the house as it had been before. Each time she walked in, it affected her a little less.
    By the time she finished