Christmas from Hell
Page 24

 
Hopefully by then her Grandfather would be back so that he could look after her instead, he thought idly as he wondered if he should just go get the boxes of MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) and tell her not to worry about trying to find something edible to eat. He wasn’t a big fan of MREs, but he’d rather eat those then have to eat a crumbly cracker breakfast followed by ice-cold water dessert. Even though he was a Bradford and would pretty much eat anything, he still had standards.
 
Eating crackers, because he was bored or at a party while he was waiting for the real food to come out was one thing, but eating them as a meal? Not fucking happening. He’d never survive, and more importantly, neither would she.
 
Now, he wasn’t saying that he would turn into a cannibal when he was on the verge of starvation, but then again, who could honestly say what they would do if they were on the verge of dying from hunger and their only means of survival was cannibalism? Since it had never happened to him, and he prayed that it never did, he really didn’t think that it was his place to pass judgment.
 
With that in mind, he decided that it was time to get dressed and go grab the supplies from next door before he was faced with that decision. He grabbed his boots, jacket and gloves and headed for the door, accepting the fact that he was going to have to make multiple trips just so he wouldn’t have to explain to her grandfather how things took a turn for the worse and he was forced to-
 
What the hell was that enticing aroma? he wondered as he found himself walking towards the bedroom door in a trance, scenting the air and nearly groaning with pleasure when he realized what he was smelling. Praying that this wasn’t the first stage of starvation, imagining delicious food being cooked, he walked out of her room and into the kitchen where Necie stood over the stove with a serious expression on her face as she carefully turned cubed potatoes in a heavy duty pan over, appearing as though she was double checking every single cube to make sure that they were all evenly browned.
 
“What are you doing?” he asked, not caring that he was asking a stupid question since it was obvious that she was cooking, but the Bradford in him needed to make sure that what he saw was really happening.
 
“Making breakfast,” she said absently as she picked up the salt, pinched out a small amount, narrowed her eyes and then with a quickness that impressed him, she evenly sprinkled the salt on a-
 
“Oh my God,” he mumbled in a hushed whisper as he watched her season one of the most beautiful marbled steaks that he’d ever seen in his life before she carefully flipped it over with a pair of tongs.
 
His mouth watered as he listened as the steak sizzled upon contact with the hot iron surface. He realized then that he should have asked if she had a gas stove so that they could cook up whatever perishables had survived the last two nights before. At the very least, he should have checked to see what kind of canned supplies they had.
 
Apparently the little jinx had thought ahead, because here she was, cooking up a large meal that smelled incredible. He watched as she expertly cooked the steak while taking care of the potatoes and then began cooking a large pan of scrambled eggs, sausage and bacon while he stood there, no doubt drooling.
 
When she was done, which was surprisingly quick considering how much food she’d whipped up, she shut off the stove, double checked that the gas was off and the flames were extinguished. Without a word, she grabbed two plates, loaded them up with food and carried them to the table. With a nod, she gestured for him to sit down as she grabbed some silverware, a teapot off the stove and poured coffee into two mugs.
 
Already knowing that she was a gifted cook, hell, everyone in town knew that she was probably the best cook in town, he didn’t hesitate in digging in. When the first piece of steak hit his mouth, he closed his eyes and nearly groaned, but somehow he managed to hold it back mostly because he didn’t want to scare her off.
 
As annoying as he’d found her presence, it had never been enough to keep him out of her family’s bakery. Except of course when he could con one of his friends, co-workers or someone in his family to go to the bakery and grab some food with him so that he wouldn’t have to worry about the little jinx crossing his path. When he couldn’t find someone to go for him, he sucked it up, accepted whatever bullshit was going to happen to him as a consequence of voluntarily going near her, and ordered his food, telling himself that it was all worth it.
 
If he knew that she was on the grill, he made damn sure that he never missed a meal when she was cooking. He was always thankful that he didn’t have to deal with her when he was ordering, but when his food was cooking he watched her every move, awed by the way she moved in the kitchen and impressed by how quickly she could turn a few simple ingredients into a masterpiece.
 
He could happily watch her cook for hours, he thought as he savored the first bite of eggs. She was one hell of a cook, and maybe not that bad of a neighbor, he started to realize as he attacked his bacon.
 
 
Chapter 14
 
Sunday, December 6th.
 
“I’m not done yet,” Necie said, biting back a smile when his eyes narrowed dangerously on her, something that would have flustered her a year ago, but after sleeping in his arms twice now, waking up both times to find herself being felt up and realizing that she could handle him as long as she didn’t stare into his eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time or think about his lips for more than five seconds, then she was fine.
 
“You’ve had that magazine for over twenty minutes,” he said accusingly as he reached for it, but since she was still reading an interesting article on gluten-free flour, she felt obligated to slap his hand away and continue reading.
 
“What the hell was that for?” he asked with a pout as he cradled his “injured” hand against his chest and shot her what most people would probably call, “A puppy dog expression,” but instead of making her feel bad for him enough to hand over the magazine, she simply shook her head and returned to the article she’d been reading.
 
She’d been discussing the possibility of offering a gluten free menu with her grandfather for a while now, but they weren’t sure that the time that it would take to train everyone or the cost to add a gluten free section in the kitchen would be worth the extra cost. No matter how they looked at it, it was going to cost them a pretty penny to do it, but she thought it was worth it even if it helped out just one family who couldn’t have gluten.