“Do you cook a lot?” I ask Wyatt. In all the years I’ve known him, I’ve never seen the man in a kitchen. “Hell no. I never cook. I…” He swallows, guilty, embarrassed. “Just wanted to do it for you.” “Oh.” Warmth washes over me. “Well, thanks.” For a moment, he holds my gaze. Then he clears his throat. “Let’s eat.”