Chapter Twelve
The effort, care, and organization Harry put into feeding her people wowed Rory.
He’d said as much when he’d arrived to find her sitting at the kitchen island, sipping coffee and going over her plans for the morning on her laptop.
The previous day, Rory had learned that she kept both paper and digital copies of her recipes.
She stored printed versions in binders in her office, which she’d arranged by meal or occasion.
He could happily spend hours or days flipping through them.
Some she’d found on the internet and tweaked to suit the people she cared for either by volume or ingredient preferences.
But most had come from her grandmother. She kept the handwritten versions of those cherished recipes in her safe deposit box at the bank to preserve them for future generations.
“In case Finley or I have kids someday,” she’d said wistfully.
Harry and Rory had spent a lot of time sharing stories about their Southern grandmothers while baking and prepping food for poker night.
It was great to talk to someone who understood the significance of Eustice Stuart’s role in Rory’s life, especially during his formative years.
While Harry didn’t know Rory’s grandmother, she’d grown up with her very own version.
So their first foray working together in the kitchen had been relaxed and wasn’t influenced by a time crunch.
Rory expected the vibe to be different when he arrived at the ranch the following morning.
Sunday was a day of relaxation for most of the residents, but not for Harry.
She outlined her tasks for the week and did as much meal prep as possible.
Her dedication to her tasks was evident in the serious expression on her face when he’d entered the room.
She’d shut the laptop quickly and forced a smile to her face.
Was she upset he’d arrived early and interrupted her quiet time?
“Would you like me to come back?” Rory asked.
Harry stiffened. “What? No. Why would you ask that? I’m so glad you’re here. Now that I have an extra set of hands, I want to be a bit more adventurous with the menu.”
“You seemed overly serious when I walked in.”
“And you were worried I was having second thoughts about you helping?” Harry asked thoughtfully.
She eased off her stool and hugged Rory.
“Not in the least. If anything, I would like to have you full-time.” Harry stood back and smiled at him.
“I’m preparing to make some big changes in my life, and I was overthinking things when you walked in.
I’m much better now. Ready to get started? ”
“Definitely. What did you have in mind?”
Harry winked, then launched into the menu she’d planned. “You have a wonderful flair for flavors. I’d really like to jazz up the fried potatoes and the scrambled eggs.”
“Diced onions and peppers in both is probably overkill,” Rory said.
He took a sip of the coffee Ivan had made for him and considered his options.
The perfection of the java sidetracked him and reminded Rory of the kisses they’d exchanged while waiting for the pot to brew.
You’re doing it again. Get your shit together.
Rory brought the room into focus and found Harry smiling at him. “What?”
“I recognize that expression,” she said. “I wear it a lot.”
Rory made a show of feeling his face, fingers stalling on his lips. Had he ever smiled so broadly? “I can’t find anything unusual about my expression,” he lied.
Harry snorted. “Uh-huh. You started off trying to decide how to enhance the eggs and potatoes without going overboard, and then your thoughts veered off toward Ivan.” She waggled her brows.
“You were probably thinking of the spices you could add to breakfast, and the hotter ones reminded you of him.”
Her comment hit much closer to home than Rory liked.
“Not even close.” He sniffed, took another sip, and said, “How about we sprinkle a smoky spice combo on the potatoes as soon as they come out of the fryer? The key ingredient will be paprika to give smokiness without heat. I’m thinking ancho chili, garlic, and onion powder would complement it well. ”
It was hard to tell if Harry’s smile was over the flavor profile he’d suggested or his blatant change of subject. “Brilliant,” she replied. “All the guys love peppers, mushrooms, and onions. What about a cheesy egg scramble with those vegetables added in?”
“My mouth is already watering,” he replied.
They took stock of the cheeses on hand, and Rory suggested the smoked gouda over the other options.
“I agree,” Harry said. “Do you want to handle the eggs and potatoes? I’ll take care of the meat, yogurt parfait, and bread options?”
“Absolutely,” Rory said, though his voice suggested more bravado than he actually felt.
He’d never cooked for so many people nor had he dreamed of a situation where he would.
Yet he cracked three dozen eggs into a large bowl, shredded a truckload of cheese, and sliced and diced a mountain of vegetables and potatoes. “Do you have heavy whipping cream?”
“Always,” Harry replied. “Thinking about adding some to the eggs?”
“It makes them creamy and fluffy.” Rory laughed when it came time to figure out how much heavy cream to add to three dozen eggs. He pulled out the phone Nicky had given him to do the calculation and determined he needed just over a pint.
The commercial grade equipment cooked and fried the food more efficiently, but there was too much to prepare in one go.
It still took him a while to figure out the right volume for each batch, but he got there with Harry’s suggestions and encouragement.
Rory bounced back and forth between the fryer and the stove.
Then he transferred the finished food to the massive warmers before starting the next batches.
He stirred, shook, seasoned, and stored like a champ.
By the time they finished, Rory was sweaty but buzzing with pride over the food he’d prepared.
The experience had been so much different from baking cookies with his mom and grandmother or hosting a small dinner party for friends.
“I feel like an iron chef in this moment,” he said breathlessly as he assessed the fruits of their labor.
“I’m so proud of you,” Harry said, slipping an arm around his waist.
Rory patted her shoulder before easing to the side. “I’m a sweaty mess.”
She snorted and waved off his worry. “That’s why we have a small bathroom just around the corner. I always freshen up a little before I signal for the fellas to help carry the food into the dining room.”
Rory was in awe of her genius. “Ladies first.”
“Don’t mind if I do,” she said before breezing out of the kitchen.
He heard footsteps approaching, but they were heavier than Harry’s and coming from the opposite direction she’d gone. Rory’s heart hammered in his chest because he recognized the footfalls. But how? Ivan came into view before he analyzed his question.
“Hi,” Ivan said, sounding shy.
“Hiya. Hungry?”
Ivan’s eyes shone like polished amber stones beneath the bright kitchen lights. “Positively famished.”
Rory swallowed hard because Ivan hadn’t even looked at the food.
The big man kept coming forward and looked as if he would devour Rory right there in the kitchen.
If not for Harry’s sudden reemergence from the powder room, he thought Ivan might’ve done just that.
Instead, Ivan stopped on the other side of the island and noticed the food for the first time.
“Wow,” he said. “This looks and smells incredible.”
“Because it is,” Rory replied.
“Perfect timing,” Harry said cheerfully. She squeezed Ivan’s upper arm as she passed by. “Use these big muscles to carry out some food, and then use your leadership skills to recruit help.”
Ivan looked down at Harry and grinned. “Normally, you just bellow for us to come help. Why are we standing on ceremony now that Rory is here?”
Harry placed her hands on her hips, and Ivan crossed his thick arms over his chest. They might’ve looked like gunslingers squaring off if not for the goofy grins on their faces.
Rory shook his head and left them to sort it out so he could get cleaned up.
The last thing he wanted to do was drip sweat into the food he’d worked so hard to prepare.
He washed his hands, then splashed cool water on his face.
Rory caught sight of his reflection in the mirror and noticed a new shimmer in his blue eyes.
It wasn’t lust or anger fueling the spark; it was pride and peace.
He dabbed his face with a paper towel and reached for the door.
When he walked into the kitchen, Harry was alone.
She picked up the platter of sausage links, leaving the bacon for him to carry.
Apparently, Ivan had recruited help to carry the rest.
Harry fanned her face with one hand and smirked at him. “I was about to reach for the fire extinguisher when I got back from the bathroom. Ivan gives a whole new meaning to smoldering glances. I thought you were about to go up in flames any minute.”
Rory snorted and picked up the platter of bacon. “Whatever.”
Harry snickered all the way to the dining room. The gathered men broke into a round of applause when they entered with the last of the food.
“Thank you, thank you,” Harry said as she set her bounty down.
Rory placed the bacon between the sausage links and thick slices of ham, then took a bow. His mouth watered at the display of food.
“Grab your plates and fill up,” Ivan told Harry and Rory.
Rory was on the verge of refusing until Harry nudged him. “Better do it,” she said, spearing a piece of ham. “There will be a stampede.”