Timber Creek
Page 36

She wandered over, stealing a quick look in one of the cabinets. Peeking in a couple of drawers. She’d expected some bachelor scenario like in the movies, with pizza boxes and a jar of old mayo in the refrigerator. Instead, opening it, she found a small assortment of condiments, half a bag of prewashed lettuce, a six-pack of Corona with two missing, a few oranges, half a lime, some deli meats, a pack of ground beef.
Her stomach rumbled, and with a startled giggle, she slapped a hand to her belly. “Whoa.” She’d shut herself down for so long, but now all her senses seemed to be coming to life, waking after their long slumber.
Spotting the new bag of hamburger buns on the counter, she had a guess what he’d been planning to make. She’d caught him on his lunch hour—had he eaten? It was late—he was probably starving.
She decided to surprise him, maybe even impress him, and throw a little something together for lunch. How hard could it be? Cook for the man—it was the advice she’d once given Sorrow, and look how that had turned out.
Besides, slowing the afternoon’s momentum a bit could be just the thing. The more she saw of Eddie, the more she liked. The bigger this thing felt. It made her nervous.
She thought of his kiss. Considering how his touch had a way of lighting her like a Christmas tree, a little food was probably advisable. She had a feeling once they started kissing again, there’d be no stopping for some time.
The shower was going, but she went to the door, hesitated there for a second. It felt so intimate to make herself at home while he was on the other side of that door, naked. She vowed that next time she would offer to get in the shower with him. She smiled to herself—she was taking to this Eddie thing rather more quickly than she’d thought she would.
Not giving herself a moment to chicken out, she simply cracked the door and called in, “You eaten?”
“No. You?” The smell of men’s soap, like pine trees, wafted out with his voice.
It gave her a shiver. “Me neither. I’ve got some ideas, though.”
He laughed that laugh—she’d known he would. She’d even anticipated his next line, “I look forward to that.”
As a no-carb girl, she knew her way around a frying pan and ground beef. She quickly formed some patties and got them going on the stove.
She’d known Eddie her whole life, and stepping into his world like this felt oddly like settling into a cozy chair. It was new, but somehow familiar, too. Almost like coming home.
She wandered back into the living room as she waited, making herself at home in a way that felt satisfying. She studied the pictures on the wall and thought it interesting that there were no personal pictures to be found, especially considering his close-knit family.
Instead, there was a series of large, black-and-white landscape photos. An alpine lake with the sharp glare of sunlight on the water. Dark, massive granite peaks that seemed all the more majestic for the absence of color. An extreme close-up of pine needles coated with clouds of fresh snow.
“You like those?” Eddie had come in, and he stood there toweling his hair.
It took her a moment to find her tongue, he was so sexy, standing there in his bare feet, his dark hair spiking every which way. “I do,” she said. She liked every single thing about this cabin, including its inhabitant.
“This one’s my favorite.” He came up beside her, peering at a shot of a tiny winter bird. A line of fragile bird tracks trailed behind it in the powdery snow. “I took it a few years back, in the woods by the falls.”
“You took these?”
He laughed at her disbelief. “Yup. Mom got me a Neanderthal camera when my View-Master broke.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “Don’t make fun.”
He nudged her back. “You either, Laura.” He’d sounded almost half-serious. It showed him in a different light.
“I won’t,” she promised. She supposed she had been ruthless over the years, probably judging him all the more fiercely for the fact that she’d always found him so damned attractive.
“I’ve learned my lesson, Eddie Jessup.” She crossed her heart. “As of this moment, I will never again make any assumptions about you.”
He got a funny expression on his face and looked toward the kitchen. “Hang on. What’s that smell?”
She’d forgotten the burgers. “Whoops.” She made a sorry face. “I was going to surprise you.”
“By filling my cabin with the smell of burned meat?”
She followed him to the stove, staring in horror at the obliterated patties.
Eddie turned off the burner and tilted the pan, studying the mess. “Did you put anything in these, or on them?”
“No.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “All I know are Atkins recipes. I’m sorry. I ruined it.”
He got a funny look on his face. “Not at all, actually. Grab a bottle of red,” he said, nodding to a small countertop wine rack. “I’ve got an idea.”
An hour later, he’d added a can of Ragu, some chopped tomatoes, and a few additional spices, and they’d settled at a weathered picnic table behind his house, eating pasta with Bolognese sauce.
“Refined flour,” she muttered as she twirled spaghetti onto her fork. It ended up being a giant bite. “What the hell?” She shoveled it in. If she was going to be hooking up with Eddie Jessup, she might as well enjoy some carbs, too.
When the flavors hit her tongue, her eyes widened. She put a hand over her mouth and said, “Oh my God.” Swallowing, she repeated, “Oh my God.” She shut her eyes, washing it down with a sip of wine. “I never eat pasta, and this is so good.”
“See? You’re learning all kinds of things. Pasta’s not half-bad. Maybe Jessups aren’t half-bad, either…” He gave her a teasing smile. The late-afternoon sun made his skin glow, and a light breeze tousled his hair.
Not half-bad at all.
Sudden butterflies made her stomach flutter. She had to look away, shoving another bite into her mouth, and took in the view instead. A small meadow spread out before them, peppered with ragged grasses and wildflowers and ringed with pine trees. Mountain peaks loomed in the far distance.
He breathed in deeply, squinting against the low sun. “Pretty, huh? It’s why I bought the place.” He pointed to the distance. “I own all the way to that fence there.”
She shielded her eyes and realized that sure enough, beyond the meadow, there was a basic wire-and-post fence. “What’s that for?”
“I’ve been meaning to get a dog. Thought a fence would come in handy.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Gotten a dog?” He shrugged. “I guess I always hoped I’d meet someone, and it’d be something we could do together. You know, go to the shelter, pick out a nice mutt.” He turned his attention to his plate and took a giant bite of pasta, looking a little embarrassed. It was a sight she didn’t see often.
“I’ll bet those kids would like it. If you brought a dog on your camping trips, I mean.”
He chuffed out a laugh. “I’ll just bet they would. Not a lot of dogs in Reno’s low-income housing developments. Not nice ones, at any rate.” He got a distant look and a faint smile, like he was remembering something. “On my very first trip, one of the little guys chased what he thought was a lost dog into the brush.”
“Was it?”
“Nope.” Using a heel of bread, he swabbed up the last of the sauce on his plate. He popped the bread into his mouth and shook his head as he chewed and swallowed. “At first, I didn’t know what it was. And of course I had to chase after the kid—I mean, I guess it’s possible it could’ve been someone’s stray dog, but I panicked, thinking of all the other stuff it might be. Rabid raccoon. Injured fox. Wildcat. Hell, it could’ve been a bear cub.”
She raked up more spaghetti, realizing she’d been holding her fork in midair, listening raptly, wondering where this story was going. “So you chased after some boy, knowing there might’ve been an angry bear waiting for you.”
He looked at her like she was crazy. “Of course.” He wiped his hands on his napkin and tossed it on the table. “When we’re out there, those kids are in my care. But there were no angry mama bears.”
“Thank God.” She waited a beat. “Well…what was it?”
He smirked, looking like he was debating telling her. “Skunk,” he said finally. He laughed then. “I dove into that brush after the kid, and damned if that skunk didn’t spray me right in the face. I stank for a week. Whoever said tomatoes remove the smell was never tagged in the face at point-blank range. Tomato sauce, tomato juice—I bathed in the stuff. All it did was make me smell like an Italian skunk.”
She was laughing, dabbing tears from her eyes, and it felt so good. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d belly-laughed.
He made a face like he was put out of joint, but she saw the humor in his eyes.
She patted his hand, playfully consoling him. “But you didn’t let Pepé Le Pew win, did you? You’re still going out and braving those woods.”
“Don’t you mean, braving those kids? But yeah, damn right I’m still going. Only now I do all my wildlife instruction in the van on the way over.” He tilted his plate, swabbed clean of tomato sauce, muttering, “Took me months before I could look at a tomato without gagging…”
She laughed and mashed the last bits of meaty sauce in the tines of her fork. “I for one am glad you and tomatoes have made peace. This was really good, Eddie.”
“It was nothing.”
“Burned patties are nothing. But turning them into this? That’s MacGyver caliber.” She sipped her wine, thinking how for every question Eddie answered, she found five more popping up in its place. “Do you cook a lot?”
He shrugged it off. “I’m all right. I can grill a steak. Feed myself.”