“Cheeseburger eggrolls,” she announced.
He looked down at her.
“Say again?” he asked.
“That’s what we’re having for dinner. Cheeseburger eggrolls. Made in the air fryer. And a quinoa salad. Brownies and ice cream for dessert.”
“Sounds awesome.”
“I use turkey meat, I shy away from beef. And we had steaks this week. I’ve met my quota.”
“Works for me.”
“First, the binder.”
He did a slow blink.
The binder?

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“Do you like chicken enchiladas?”
“Do you like olives?”
“Do you like sour cream?”
“On a scale of a little bit of cheese goes a long way to cheese fanatic, where do you sit?”
We had something in common.

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“Smells good,” he murmured when his head came up.

“Fish pie.”


God, he could “mm” great in that gravelly way of his.

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“Steph’s chicken.”

“Who’s Steph?”

“Some unknown, faceless but undeniably brilliant woman who came up with a killer Crock-Pot recipe for chicken.”

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“He knew it in that instant because he also knew in that instant he’d do anything, absolutely anything, beg, borrow, steal, kill, crawl, lie, cheat, die, eat taco extravaganza…

All just for her smile.”

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Toad in the Hole

The British have a way with putting meat and bread...

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