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She did spend some time that afternoon driving past houses, but nothing lit a bulb in her heart, mind, or soul, and she returned to the farm with everything she needed to make pistachio crisps.
She barely had time to do that and get ready for her date, and she would’ve been late climbing the steps to Tag’s front porch if Gerty hadn’t finished the last batch for her. As it was, she arrived armed with the treats she’d promised Tag, and she wondered how she’d have done it if she’d babysat West as she’d planned on.
Didn’t matter. She’d made it, and she raised her hand to knock.
“Come in,” Tag called from inside, and Opal did that without second-guessing herself.
“Oh, it smells good in here,” she said as she entered.
“Did you walk?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Honey, it’s too cold to walk in the dark.”
Opal handed him the plastic container of crisps and started to shed her coat. Tag took it from her and draped it over the back of his couch. He smiled at her and easily put one hand on her lower back and drew her close, then closer.
“Mm, you smell nice.”
“Sugar and spice,” she managed to say before he stole her words with his kiss. “Mm.”
“You hungry?” he whispered.
“Yes,” she said. “I ate crackers and peanut butter for lunch.” Hours and hours ago.
“I think everything is pretty close,” he said. “Do you want to bring your coat outside?”
“Am I going to need it?”
“I stocked the couch with blankets,” he said, his gaze sliding down to her feet. “You got the memo about warm boots.”
Opal looked at the black, fur-lined boots on her feet too. “Let’s try it without a coat.”
He took her hand and said, “Come on, Boots. You can come outside too.” Tag led her outside, and Opal expected to be punched in the lungs with the cold the way she had been when she’d first left the farmhouse.
But, somehow, Tag had delivered on his promise. The back porch wasn’t huge, and it sat only four steps above the yard, where she’d climbed eight or nine steps to get to the front porch. A glorious, flickering fire sat a few feet from the bottom of the steps, so Tag could still go down and maneuver around it.
The heat rose up, and he’d attached something Opal couldn’t identify to extend the roof over the back porch. It caught the heat, and cycled it back toward the purple couch, where a black-and-copper blanket waited alongside a cow print one.
On the other side of the back door, Tag had set up a simple folding table, and he’d already laid down a stack of potholders, plates, silverware, and serving utensils.
“Have a seat, honeybear,” he said. “I’ll get dinner for you.” He went down to the fire while Opal pulled the thick, silky-furry checkered blanket over her lap. She wore a black sweater, so her arms weren’t bare, and she was still shocked she didn’t need a coat.
Tag brought up one Dutch oven, and then a second, and Opal simply enjoyed the slow evening where he took care of her. “All right,” he said a few minutes later. “Barbecue chicken and Dutch oven potatoes.”
Opal blinked away from the dancing fire and focused on the plate Tag held out for her. Everything steamed and the scent of tangy barbecue sauce mixed with melted cheese and salt. She swallowed the sudden saliva in her mouth. “Wow,” she said. “Tag, this looks amazing.”
“My daddy taught me to cook in a Dutch oven.” He returned to the table to fix himself a plate. “I’m better over fire than I am in the kitchen.”
“Why have I never known this?” She looked up at him as he took his place on the blow-up couch. It bounced with his extra weight, and she reached for his plate so he could pull the other blanket up and around his legs and hips.
He took his plate back with a smile and asked, “Do you want me to say a prayer?”
They had not prayed over other meals together, unless they were with a big group. Opal suddenly felt shy, like she couldn’t speak the innermost feelings of her heart in front of him. Or that if he did, something would shift in their relationship.
“Yes,” she whispered anyway.
“Okay.” Tag balanced his food on a pile of his blanket and removed his cowboy hat. He pressed it against his chest as he lowered his head in respect to God. “Lord.”
