“And here I thought I was laid-back.”
“I imagine it’s tough for a woman to get a read on you.”
Vanity seemed to read him just fine. “If you say so.”
“It’d take a strong woman to win you over.”
“No one is ‘winning me over.’ I make my own rules.” Except that Vanity had led him by the nose through the craziest rules he’d ever heard of.
“Maybe,” she said, “you need a little tough love, too.”
When the knock sounded on the door, he frowned at his mom. “You expecting anyone?”
“No.” She turned in her seat to watch as Stack went to the door.
Before he reached it, he heard the dogs, and he knew. He jerked the door open, and there stood Vanity, arms overflowing, the dogs’ leashes held tight in one hand.
Over the top of her load, he saw her eyes widen.
“Stack! What are you doing here?”
He took a large box from her and an enormous tote bag with something big inside. “That’s my question to you.”
The scent of spicy chili rose from the box.
“Don’t tip it!” She hurried in, closed the door and unleashed the dogs, who made a beeline for his mother. “Kitchen, please,” she told Stack.
Lynn smiled at her while petting Norwood and Maggie. “Vanity. What a nice surprise.”
“Am I intruding?” Pulling back the hood of a snowy-white zip-up, Vanity explained, “I won’t stay.” She pulled off mittens and dragged down the zipper. “I just wanted to drop off a pot of chili I made for you. I figured with as late as Tabby works, you might like it for dinner.”
Stack set the box on the counter, then lifted the heavy tote bag to the seat of a chair. He started to open it to see what was inside.
Vanity slapped it shut again, then barred the tote with her body. “That’s not for you.” She kept her hands behind her, sealing the tote.
Interesting. Especially with the way her breasts pressed against the front of her turquoise top.
Holding her gaze, he asked, “Why are you cooking for my family?”
“It seemed the considerate thing to do.”
That made little sense. Maybe his best course would be to confuse her. Given his own confusion, it seemed fair. “Chili, you said?”
Suspicious, she studied him askance. “Yes. And fresh cheesy bread. I figured that’d be easy to reheat.” She leaned to see around him, saying to his mom, “I hope you like it.”
“Love it,” she said. “If I hadn’t just finished the lunch Stack brought me, I’d get a bowlful right now.”
Vanity beamed at him. “You brought your mother lunch?”
“Yeah.” He had no idea why that pleased her so much. “Don’t make a big deal of it. She’s my mother, she’s sick, and—”
“And,” Lynn interjected, “he also brought groceries. The cabinets are now full.” Goading him, she finished with a mushy smile. “I have such a considerate son.”
“Awww.” Taking the bait, Vanity stroked a hand over his pec. “That is so sweet.”
Stack rolled his eyes. She did seem obsessed with thinking that of him—and with his mother helping her along in that misconception, he saw no point in trying to deny it. “You told me you had to paint.”
“I did.” Her cheeks warmed. “It went well this morning.”
She was hedging about something. Stack reached around her, took the tote and held the chair for her to sit.
She stared at it, then him.
Lifting a brow, he waited.
She conceded with ill grace. “Fine.” Abandoning her protection of the tote bag, she dropped into the seat.
Stack leaned the cumbersome tote against the counter, giving her a minute to regroup. “The chili smells good.” He lifted out the big pot and set it on the stove, then removed the carefully wrapped loaf of bread.
“There’s more for us at home. That is...” She darted an embarrassed glance toward his mother. “I mean...”
Unconcerned, Stack said, “I’m a big boy, Vanity. My mother won’t faint if she knows we’re spending the night together.”
“Stack!” Vanity looked like she might faint.
Lynn laughed, then took pity on her and changed the subject. “So on top of your other many talents, you can cook?”
“I can read a recipe as well as the next person.” She glanced again at the tote bag. “But I’m not really talented. Just...well...”