Stetson pulled back the chair for Jennifer, and then sat down kitty-corner from her, the light from the elk horn chandelier overhead dancing in her dark locks. A platter of steaming steak strips, a plate of homemade tortillas, and all of the fixin’s were spread out in front of them. A batch of homemade salsa, just made yesterday, was sitting proudly between them. Carmelita had been sure to inform them of its freshness, before disappearing.

“Is she coming back?” Jennifer asked as he began to dish up the taco ingredients. She was looking around, as if expecting Carmelita to jump out from behind the china hutch or something. Stetson’s mouth quirked up at the corners at the idea.

“She usually eats dinner with me, but tonight, she said she had some errands to run.” Stetson was...

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