Kurt forced himself to eat slowly. He’d made his mother’s tortilla soup dozens of times, but this was a particularly good batch. Thankfully. He mentally thanked God it had turned out. As soon as May had arrived, Kurt’s attention had divided. He couldn’t help watching her. Sliding closer to her. Drawing in a deep draw of her decidedly peachy perfumy scent.
“This is so great,” she said, sprinkling a few more tortilla strips over her bowl.
“You don’t like them soggy.” He tipped the brim of his hat toward her food.
“No.” She grinned. “I sort of have a thing against soggy bread.”
“So no bread pudding for you.”
She made a face that elicited a laugh from Kurt. “No, thank you. I mean, I’ll make it. Our raspberry bread pudding won an award in the Texas Hill Country magazine a few years ago.” S
