Chapter 13
Luke
The MREs weren’t a big hit, but I feel like I can salvage the meal with the s’mores. Everyone loves a gently toasted marshmallow smashed between graham crackers and a melted layer of chocolate.
Pointing to the fire pit, I say, “All I’ve got to do is strike the match and we’ll get toasting!” The wood is already stacked with just the right amount of newspaper between layers for a fast-burning fire. In seconds, the dry wood crackles and flames flicker before us.
“I even whittled some new skewers for the marshmallows,” I say with a chuckle as I hand Kaylee one.
She gives me a hesitant smile but then slides two marshmallows onto the stick.
“A double-decker? Going for the jumbo s’more, I see!” I tease .
“I like extra marshmallows,” she replies, her tone not sounding quite as excited as I thought it would be. She didn’t even heckle me about my whittling comment. What’s wrong?
Standing side by side, we hold our marshmallows in the flame, rotating our sticks in order to roast on all sides.
“You should hold your stick lower down,” I advise. She’s barely got her marshmallows near the heat, rotating it above the yellow flames. She isn’t even sticking them in the flames, which is a common rookie mistake. To get evenly roasted marshmallows, you have to put them near wood that’s moved past the open flame stage and is in the glowing coal stage.
“This is fine,” she says. Only the tip of the first marshmallow is turning golden brown. Maybe I just need to lead by example?
Holding my skewer near the glowing embers, I cook until both marshmallows grow to about double their original size, with a toasty brown exterior. “You know the inside is hot when the marshmallow expands,” I explain .
“Were you a Boy Scout?” she teases.
“Actually, yes,” I say proudly. “Do you know why marshmallows expand when heated?” I ask, eagerly wanting to share my Boy Scout merit badge knowledge.
Giggling, Kaylee says, “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“The sugars and gelatin in the marshmallow melt due to the heat, allowing the air bubbles trapped inside to expand, resulting in the marshmallow visibly increasing in size as it puffs up,” I reply.
“Interesting,” she says, now holding her skewer several feet away from the flame.
Maybe she needs to taste the benefits to be convinced. Grabbing two graham crackers, I add a couple squares of chocolate bar to one cracker, slide the toasted marshmallow off my stick and onto the chocolate, then cover with the second cracker. “Here, try this. See how the chocolate melts perfectly? ”
She hands me her stick so I can roast her marshmallows while she tastes the treat. She takes the s’more, smooshing the crackers closer together, gooey marshmallow and melted chocolate leaking from the sides. “I need it to fit my mouth,” she explains as she licks her fingers, then opens wide and takes a huge bite. Her eyes close as she chews. “Yum!”
“See, you need hot marshmallows, and they aren’t hot enough if they haven’t expanded.” I nod towards her skewer. She finishes the treat, wipes her hands on a paper towel, and accepts her skewer of marshmallows back. “Try getting these to expand. Don’t be afraid of getting them too close to the embers.”
Biting her bottom lip, she concentrates on holding her marshmallows closer to the fire. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got them a little too close to the flame now, but I don’t say anything.
Glad she’s taken my lesson to heart, I waltz over to the picnic table to retrieve more s’mores ingredients. I also sneak a piece of chocolate bar and chase it with a couple marshmallows, just to tide me over until I can prepare my next treat.
“Gah! Gah! My stick is on fire!” Kaylee shrieks. She furiously waves the flaming stick and marshmallows while trying to blow on them. Her frantic dance brings her closer and closer to the picnic table.
I watch in shock, my feet planted to the ground.
Before I’m able to assist, she loses her grip and launches a flaming torpedo. Time stands still as it sails through the air, landing smack in the middle of the remaining MREs. Several of the pouches and a stack of napkins burst into flame right before my eyes.
“Oh no! Oh no!” Kayle wails.
Finally coming out of my stupor, I act swiftly. Picking up the nearby cooler, I open it and toss the contents directly onto the spreading tabletop fire. A lot of the ice has melted, so there’s plenty of water to help douse the flames.
Plunk! Plunk !
A couple cans of soda—fortunately the only things left in the cooler—tumble towards the fire, but I manage to save them. The flames sizzle and turn to steam in a matter of seconds, leaving behind a pile of wet, burned MRE pouches with some marshmallow gooeyness on top.
The tabletop boasts a new scorch mark, and a rancid odor hangs in the air, putting an end to any desire I had for a s’more of my own. Although fortunately the ingredients were at the other end of the table and were untouched in the flaming fiasco.
“You really didn’t like those MREs, did you?” I ask, staring wide-eyed at the mess.
Kaylee wrings her hands, her tear-filled eyes turn towards mine, and her lips wobble as she repeats, “I’m so sorry!” over and over.
In retrospect, knowing her propensity for clumsiness, s’mores were a terrible idea .
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up! No one got hurt, and we salvaged the chocolate bars,” I say, trying to bring a smile to her pretty face.
She shakes her head sadly. “This is just like what happened in Brownies. I burned up a patio chair at our troupe leader’s house when I set my marshmallows on fire.”
No wonder her mom was worried about Kaylee burning down the campground.
When a tear tracks down her cheek, I gently pull her into my arms. She hangs her head against my chest and sniffles. Trying to comfort her, I say, “Someday we’ll look back at this and laugh.”
Tilting her head upward, she says in a wobbly, tear-filled voice, “You still want anything to do with me?” Blinking furiously, she says, “When I spilled ice water in one of my date’s laps, he split, leaving me to pay the bill. That was much less egregious than”—she waves her hand towards the mess—“than this. ”
Squeezing her closer, I whisper in her ear, “I’m starting to understand the Kaylee factor and how to deal with it. No sharp objects, no fire, no chemicals. Keep plenty of duct tape nearby!” I tease, still trying to bring on that elusive smile. Rubbing my thumbs against her cheeks, I add, “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had. You’re smart, sexy, and fun. The guy you spilled ice water on should have stuck around, because he’s missing out.” All these words are true and it hits me that I’m falling for her.
She blinks at me for several beats as if debating whether I’m being genuine or not.
“Believe me, an amazing partner like you is hard to come by,” I tack on, hoping to make her feel better.
“How many partners have you had?” she asks in a skeptical tone.
I laugh. “Several, but they’ve all been burly former Marines. Nothing like you,” I add with a flirty wink.
“Did any of them burn anything down?” she asks, a hint of a smile ghosting across her lips .
I shrug. “Not so far. But look, you didn’t burn anything of consequence down. To be honest, those MREs weren’t that good .”
A giggle floats from her lips. “They weren’t good at all. Maybe my subconscious wanted to get rid of them so you didn’t try to feed me any more!”
I chuckle. She’s slowly returning to the bubbly, happy Kaylee I like best. “Got it! No more MREs. Do you want to try another s’more?”
She backs out of my embrace. “I think I just want to go back to my tent where I can do the least amount of damage.”
Disappointed that she’s leaving but understanding her need to regroup, I say, “Sounds good. Shall we meet tomorrow morning over coffee and make a plan for the day?”
“Mom’s bringing a Coffee Loft delivery at seven. Coffee and donuts. Want to come over then?”
Grinning, I say, “I’ll be there.”
She turns to leave, then points to the mess on the picnic table. “Want me to help clean that up? ”
“No, I’ve got it.”
“Thanks, Luke. Sweet dreams,” she says. Liz trots by her side and they both disappear into the darkness.
Sweet dreams guaranteed, because I’ll be dreaming about my sweet partner.