17
“SMELLS DELICIOUS.” Penelope perched on a wooden stool, watching Stefan make dinner. A fire crackled in the stone fireplace, chasing the chill from the log cabin. She rubbed her hands together to warm them.
“Just your standard mountain fare.” Over a searing heat on the old stovetop, Stefan quickly stirred vegetables in a battered wok, added Chinese sauces and spices, and then turned them out over a bed of brown rice and quinoa.
She laughed. “Hardly. I thought you’d be eating biscuits and gravy and a slab of venison up here.”
“Not anymore.” He made a face. “Healthy body, healthy mind.”
“What else have you got in here?”
“Help yourself,” he said, nodding toward the refrigerator.
Opening the freezer, she exclaimed. “You’re well stocked. Cherry Garcia and Chunky Monkey. Guess you can’
