Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
KARL
Matt’s been giving me weird looks all morning. The looks probably have more to do with the fact that I can’t seem to stop smiling like a fool and not because I strolled in an hour late.
My wife loves me. It hits me again, and yet another smile stretches across my lips.
I wanted to say those three words to her while we were doing something mundane like dishes or out for a walk with Jack.
Instead, I said it over and over, kissing every inch of her while she echoed every word. I love you in the round.
“You’ve put hay in that bin three times,” Matt scolds, leaning into my space and taking the hay back out. “It would be faster if you went home so I don't have to keep redoing everything.”
It's tempting. Very tempting. It's just that, if I go home now, Nancy is going to give me shit for letting her be the reason I can’t focus on work. So instead of giving into the temptation, I grab the hose and begin spraying down the aisle, taking one of the worst jobs to make up for adding to Matt’s workload.
When I’m about to head home for lunch, I hear one of my favorite sounds through the barn door.
Nancy’s laugh draws me from the barn like a moth to a flame.
I don’t even remember the walk to the door or opening it.
But there she is, her hair practically glowing as she jumps around in the snow with Jack.
It’s one of those perfect winter days, and by the look of her cheeks, she’s been enjoying it for a bit.
She smiles when she catches sight of me and comes bounding over, Jack hopping along beside her. I expect her to stop in front of me, but she launches herself into my arms.
“I stink,” I protest, trying to pull her away from my body.
“I like it,” she says stubbornly, wrapping her arms tighter around my neck.
“Liar.” I smirk.
She buries her face in my neck and sniffs dramatically. “Delicious,” she declares.
“Marry me?”
She slides to the ground, boots on either side of mine. “I would, but I’m afraid that I’m spoken for.”
“Lucky guy.”
“He really is. In fact, I was just coming to pick him up for lunch.”
I look around. “Oh yeah? Need me to help you find him?”
She stands on her tiptoes, hands on my shoulders. “He’s supposed to be out here, so I guess it’s his loss. Care to join me for lunch?” She gestures to a basket sitting beside the laneway in the snow.
“Picnic?”
“Nah, your mom was helping me out this morning. I figured it would be nice to have something other than peanut butter and jam sandwiches.”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders as we make our way to the basket. “I love your PB and Js.”
She looks up at me and rolls her eyes. “Well, I’m sick of them, so I asked your mom for some tips. She was kind enough to spend her morning giving me a cooking lesson.”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“I did.” She nods. “More than I expected. It’s a lot more enjoyable when you have a plan where the ingredients actually add up to something.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I bend to pick up the basket, then take her hand. “So, what’s for lunch?”
“Irish beef stew with biscuits,” Nancy announces when I walk into the cottage a week after she started cooking lessons with my mom. I’ve been worried that she thinks she has to do this, but every day, she’s excited to talk about what she got to learn and what they made.
“One of my favorites,” I say, dropping a kiss on her head before heading to the bathroom to wash up.
“Your mom suggested we start a garden down here in the spring,” she tells me as she sets bowls of steaming, thick stew on the table. “The thought of growing and harvesting food is oddly thrilling.” She laughs, her cheeks coloring.
“That would be awesome. I’m glad you’re enjoying all this,” I wave around the table. “Not just because it’s delicious either.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, slipping into her seat.
“You seem like you’re genuinely enjoying yourself. There are only two things I’ve seen you do where I can say you look like that.”
“Two things, eh?”
I allow my gaze to track down her body slowly. “Mmmhmm,” I hum around a bite of stew. “Holy shit,” I moan, tossing my head back. “This is fantastic.”
“Really?”
I nod, shoveling another spoonful into my mouth. “It’s the best stew I’ve ever had.”
“You’re just saying that,” she scoffs, waving her spoon around dismissively.
“No, really. It’s got more…” I swirl another bite around my mouth, trying to figure out what it is that’s different. “There’s something sharp? But in a good way?”
“Horseradish?” She looks at me expectantly.
“That’s it.”
“We also used beer instead of wine.”
“Really?” I look down at the bowl. “I honestly didn’t know there was usually wine in stew.”
“I didn’t either. But then again, I could barely fry an egg when I got here. The fact I’m basically making a stew all on my own now is a testament to how patient your mom is.”
My mom has spent the last twenty-three years caring for my dad, brother, and me. She’s had years of practice when it comes to patience. Having someone new around, especially someone who is enthusiastic about learning to cook and garden, probably feels like Christmas to her.
“What?” Nancy asks after I’ve been smiling at her for several seconds longer than is socially acceptable.
“Just your face. When you talk about food, it’s how I imagine I look when I talk about you.”
Her blush deepens. “You talk about me?” she asks, pushing a carrot around her bowl.
“To anyone who will listen. These days, that’s mainly the cows, but they’re riveted.”
“I bet they are. For what it’s worth, I probably look like this when I talk about you too. You’d have to ask your mother for confirmation, though. You look torn.” She grins.
I groan, my gaze bouncing between Nancy and the stew. “I really want to keep eating this, but I also really want to kiss you.”
“Stew first. It’s hot.”
“You’re hotter,” I insist.
She snorts, and it’s so adorable I’m tempted to push our bowls to the floor and drag her onto the table.
Panic washes over her face, and she holds a finger up. “No, don’t even think about it.”
I’m not even disappointed. The fact she knows what I’m thinking feels like a step in the right direction.