“What do you want to go with this pork chops,” Brandon called in through the window from the backyard.
A waft of succulent smoke set Selene's mouth watering. “Salad would be nice,” she replied. “Do you mind if I make it?”
“Sure you're up to it?” he asked. “I'm used to making whole meals on my own.”
“I know,” she called back, “but I don't mind. If you don't either—if you're not too territorial about the kitchen—I'd like to move dinner along. Honestly, I'm starving.” Hmmm. Starving? How long has it been since I can recall feeling hungry, rather than just being aware that it's time to eat?
“Make yourself at home, Selene,” Brandon replied. In the background, his oversized metal spatula scraped on the grates of the grill.
Selene got right to work hunting down a cutting board and retrieving
