Chapter 4 #2
“I met a woman named Martha at the grocery store today. She made a point to tell me I’m too skinny—which must’ve made Mama proud—and she gave me a recipe to make. I probably should have put together sooner how much it would make based on the measurements. I have enough to feed a family of twelve.”
Smiling, I take in her scent as we step into the house. She smells amazing, and I shove my hands in my pockets to stop from reaching out to touch her. “Martha had ten kids. All of her recipes are for a family of twelve.”
She laughs, but looks up with terror on her face. “If I happen to find someone to marry here, will I be expected to have that many children? I keep hearing these scary high numbers when it comes to kids, and I don’t know if my body could handle that. Or my mind. I might need to be committed.”
“The number of children has decreased with every generation. Carter and his wife only have two daughters. However many kids you want will be between you and the man you choose. Or woman. We’re slightly more progressive than we used to be,” I say with a wink.
“Man. Definitely man. I considered dating women once when I was fed up with men, but it just doesn’t quite do it for me,” she says, leading me into the dining room. Her hand claps over her mouth, and she looks horrified. “I don’t know why I just said that.”
“It’s okay.” I smile and try not to laugh. “I’m glad to know it’s only men competin’ for your attention. Cuts the competition in half.”
My eyes can’t help but appreciate her backside as I lean to the side to watch her pull dinner from the oven. She has a nice ass. I really need to stop thinking about her body.
“I’d rather no one compete for my attention. I’d like to pick the person I date for once. Now, just to warn you, I’m not much of a cook. I have no idea if this is any good.”
“You don’t like to cook?”
“Mama was never keen on having me learn domestic duties. I’m much better at reading ingredients and nutritional values than recipes. Her goal was to have me marry rich and have servants. That way, I’d never have to cook or change diapers.”
She dishes up two plates for us and walks them in to the dining room. “I should’ve guessed it was tater tot casserole. She has a daughter-in-law from Minnesota and thinks she’s somethin’ special bringin’ us Midwestern cuisine.”
“You’ve had it before?”
Brynlee looks upset, but I give her a confused look. “You haven’t? You’re from Midwest central.”
“Home-cooked meals, especially rustic ones where cans of soup are involved, didn’t happen in my circle. My ex either had a chef or took me out.”
Ex. She mentioned an ex once before. “Yes, to answer your question. I’ve had it before. The entire town has, but on the plus side, it’s very difficult to screw up.”
A nervous smile appears. “You might want to save that determination until after you’ve tried it. Just promise me that if it’s terrible, you’ll lie to me. Tell me it’s fantastic and the best thing you’ve ever eaten. Then tell me you forgot you already ate dinner to avoid having to choke it down.”
Laughing, I nod my head in agreement. “This smells good.”
“Does it smell… right? I’ve never even heard of it before.”
“It smells right,” I say. “What did you normally eat in Chicago?”
“Takeout, mostly. Or we went out to restaurants. Usually, those places that charge way too much for something that leaves you hungry and digging around for cookies at midnight.”
Great, now I can’t get an image of Brynlee standing in the kitchen wearing nothing but my T-shirt and eating cookies out of my mind. So much so that I’m shifting uncomfortably as my jeans tighten. The things this woman does to me.
I watch her take a bite, and it’s amusing as her thoughts about the dish cross over her face. It’s not bad. In fact, it’s pretty dang good.
“It’s good,” I say.
It could be as tough to chew as a leather shoe and lukewarm while tasting like fish, and I’d still tell her it was amazing after the way my comment makes her beam. I’ve never seen a smile so bright before.
“It’s a little salty, right?”
“A little, but I don’t think it’s anythin’ you did wrong. Martha would lick a salt block if someone let her. Usually, we cut the salt in half for all recipes she gives out.”
“It’s at least edible.”
“It’s more than edible. In fact, I could probably eat two plates.”
The joy in her, as I say that, causes a warmth to spread across my chest. God, I want to make her happy. It’s my new favorite thing to do, and I’ll do just about anything to keep her looking at me this way.
“What brings you out my way?” Brynlee asks.
“I got the parts for the filtration system. I should have called first, but I figured I could drop them off and come back when you have time for me to install it.”
“You really are my hero, you know that? This hard water is causing problems with my hair.”
Keep looking at me that way, and I’ll do anything to be your hero for the rest of my life. Just tell me how. “Do you have a day that works best for you?”
“I’m available whenever you are.”
“How about tomorrow night? I can help you eat some of these leftovers because you, my dear, will never be able to finish it yourself.”
“It’s like you can see right into my soul, Rhett Dillon,” she says and giggles. “Yes, please, come eat dinner here. Heck, you can come by every night until you’re sick of the casserole.”
As much as I want to take her up on that offer, I just smirk. “A home-cooked meal, especially when it’s offered by a pretty lady, is somethin’ I’ll never turn down. Thank you for thinkin’ of me, Brynlee.”
It’s the truest statement I’ve ever made. Having her think of me makes me feel like the king of the world.