Chapter Nine #2
“I’ll help her,” Ivan said, though he wanted to toss Rory over his shoulder and carry him up to his bedroom.
“Fine. Eat your cookie.” Rory said the last part slowly as if talking to a child on the verge of a tantrum.
He wasn’t far off the mark. “Don’t think you can distract me with a cookie,” Ivan called out. But then he bit into it and barely resisted falling to his knees in worship. Ivan chewed slowly, picking out all the flavors and textures in one bite.
Rory ducked his head back into the kitchen. “Maybe not just any ole cookie. But I made those especially for you.”
The sweet gesture touched Ivan. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Where are the rest of them?” Rory patted the purple canvas bag. “Tucked away until we’re alone again.”
“Hurry.” But did he mean Rory or the passage of time? Ivan decided it was both and took another big bite of cookie after Rory disappeared out of sight again. He’d wolfed down the entire thing by the time the first wave of rubberneckers arrived.
Ivan knew they were in for a treat when Harry had to commandeer Dylan’s truck to get all the food she’d made from one house to the other.
“Though I could use the exercise the back-and-forth trips would’ve afforded me,” Harry said when they’d arranged huge foil platters on every available surface in the kitchen.
She and Rory had made a variety of sliders and chicken wings, which would’ve been enough on their own. But they also made hash brown casserole, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, pasta salad, and a bunch of brownies and cookies.
“Wow,” Ivan said once they had everything set out. “You guys made enough food for an army of nosy-ass ranchers.”
“Figured I’d put them in a food coma so they didn’t linger down here too long. If that doesn’t work, I have a surefire backup plan that will draw them out of the house.”
“Yeah?” Ivan asked.
Harry smiled. “You’ll know it when you see it.” She faced him with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. “Cash left for a few days, so Dylan is going to stay with me at the main house.”
Ivan knew Cash had headed to Denver because he’d stopped by the barn on his way out.
Apparently, Cash had expressed his concerns about Salvation Anew to Nick after Ivan had stomped out of the house like an immature brat.
Nick was introducing Cash to a special agent who investigated cults.
Or that was the excuse the guys were using to spend time together, but that was their business.
Harry winked and said, “We got you covered.”
Ivan’s cheeks heated, and he wanted to dispute Harry’s assumptions, but he let it go.
They were grown-ass adults who didn’t need anyone’s blessing or permission.
Besides, their interest would wane soon enough, and they’d find something or someone else to gossip over instead.
“Appreciate it,” Ivan said instead of a rebuttal.
“Trust me,” Harry said, placing a hand over her heart. “I’m not doing this for you. If left up to me, I’d never kick that man out of my bed.”
“I’m happy for you both,” Ivan said, though he was dying to know when and how Harry had come around.
Dylan’s crush on her had been obvious as hell, but she’d acted impervious.
Ivan suspected the age difference bugged her since Dylan was younger.
Harry was surprisingly cautious for being Hope Newton’s firstborn.
Then again, Harry and Finley had talked about the mistakes Hope had made when they were younger.
They must’ve left an indelible mark on her impressionable kids, and it manifested in opposite ways.
Harry, who was pure fire and sass, went to the extreme opposite of her mom.
Finley had followed in her footsteps until the ill-fated romance with Keegan, who’d broken up with him to enter the cult.
The betrayal had spawned a hiatus that came to an abrupt end when Kieran arrived at the ranch a year ago.
“Thank you,” Harry said. “Maybe it’s time for you to let your hair down a little too, yeah?” She narrowed her eyes and studied his attempt to style his hair as Danielle had. “Did you go back to the barber today?”
“Nope. Did this myself,” he replied breezily as if the entire process hadn’t eaten over thirty minutes of his time. Seeing the ravenous look in Rory’s eyes made the effort worth it.
“You better not be hoovering up all the food,” Kieran yelled from the living room. The asshole had gotten awfully brazen over the past twelve months, and Ivan couldn’t help but smile.
“Give him a break,” Owen said. “He needs to fuel up for tonight’s activities.”
A cacophony of laughter followed the remark but broke into catcalls and whistles.
Curious, Ivan poked his head out of the doorway and saw Rory had descended the stairs.
He wore a pale gray, long-sleeved shirt made from a material that looked ridiculously soft.
Rory’s jeans were faded and distressed, but Ivan suspected that was by design rather than from wear and tear.
He still hadn’t forgotten the sticker shock when he’d tried to buy a pair from a department store in the mall during college.
His folks couldn’t afford to buy their kids designer clothes and wouldn’t have bought them even if money wasn’t an issue.
Rory’s jeans looked soft and some of the holes on his upper thighs were strategically close to where Ivan wanted to put his tongue.
Rory shook his head and waved off the crew’s silliness, making a beeline for the kitchen.
“Why does he get to go in there while the rest of us have to stay in the living room?” Tyler called out.
“You know why,” Owen said. He followed it with a kissy face that drew more laughter.
“Because Rory and Harry prepared all this delicious food for you, so they get to fill their plates first,” Ivan said. Tyler and Owen had the good grace to look slightly chastised.
“It’s a rough crowd tonight,” Rory said when he reached the safety of the kitchen. “Maybe we should throw a few sliders out there to appease them.”
“Fill your plate,” Ivan said, reaching for him without thinking.
Rory rose and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.
“Awwwwww,” a chorus of grown men said from the fucking doorway.
Rory stiffened as if he’d done something wrong, and Ivan didn’t want a repeat of that morning’s miscommunication.
Ivan kept his hand on Rory to hold him in place.
Damn, he smelled so good. Like fresh air, sunshine, and something slightly earthy like freshly mown grass.
Ivan wanted to roll over and under him and was grateful he’d get his chance to do just that in a few hours.
“The next person to make a smartass comment about us or stick their nose in our business will live to regret it come Monday when I hand out the weekly assignments.”
Harry spun around and said, “And you can count on a week of cold cereal for breakfast and bologna sandwiches and chips for lunch.”
Groans met Harry’s threat. Ivan laughed because that was by far a much worse fate than he would’ve dealt them.
True to his word, Ivan held the ravenous group at bay while Harry and Rory filled their plates, then he jumped to the front of the line once they finished.
A few protested his audacity, but most of them weren’t willing to incur Harry’s wrath.
There were too many people to cram inside the small dining room, so the gawkers spilled over into the living room and kitchen too.
Ivan wondered how they’d manage the poker games if everyone stuck around after dinner. Multiple tables and tournament style?
Harry and Rory’s cooking skills rendered the crowd nearly mute with the occasional groan and hum of approval. A soft belch broke the silence, and Ivan hoped like hell it wasn’t him, though he wouldn’t mind a discreet one if it allowed more room to shovel food into his gullet.
“Sorry,” Owen said, sounding mortified.
“Don’t be,” Rory replied. “I took it as a compliment.”
Tyler glanced up from his plate, halting with his fork midway to his mouth. “How much of this food did you make?”
Rory rattled off a long list, comprising half the sandwiches and wings and a sizable chunk of the desserts. His cheeks flushed with pride, and Ivan wanted to send them all home—with no leftovers—so he could get to the Rory appreciation party he’d planned.
“What are the cookies you made with a bunch of ingredients?” Dylan asked. “They had bits of crushed pretzel, nuts, and different chocolate chips in them.”
“I didn’t see those,” Rueben said, sounding disappointed.
Ivan knew and recalled the surprising combo of salty and sweet ingredients and the mix of textures. He couldn’t wait to eat more of them, preferably with Rory’s nude body acting as a serving platter.
“Oh,” Rory said, casting a furtive glance in his direction. “They weren’t for poker night.”
“Really?” Tyler asked, turning a suspicious gaze on Ivan. He mouthed, “Lucky bastard,” before turning his head back toward his plate.
“You wouldn’t like them,” Ivan said. “They have coconut.”
“I’d sure give it a try,” Rue grumbled and stabbed a bite of hash brown casserole.
Ivan caught Rory’s gaze and winked before tucking back into his dinner.
He’d always loved food, especially the dishes the women in his family made.
He learned early on to recognize the singular secret ingredient they put into their dishes—love.
It was the universal spice that made the ordinary extraordinary, and Harry poured love into her cooking.
He glanced at Rory, who smiled as he observed those around him wolfing down the food he’d helped create.
It seemed he was blessed with the innate ability too.
“So what went into the cookies you made just for Ivan?” Owen asked, clearly not ready to let the slight go.
Rory wore a cute smirk on his lips before rattling off the ingredients.
“What do you even call a cookie with that much stuff in it?” Tyler asked.
Ivan smirked and said, “I call them delicious.”