Cook Off
The children scream so loud, I worry they’re going to tear their own vocal cords.
Jed doesn’t even seem to notice. With the box of supplies in his hands, he weaves through the crowd in front of me while I bring up the rear with two bags I stole from him to help out.
My camera hangs heavy from my neck, the thick strap chafing at my skin almost comfortingly.
It’s such an expected sensation that at this point, I’d feel weird if it wasn’t there.
As the swings lower, the whirring of the giant carnival ride slows down just a little, and the screams get closer above us.
I glance up with a frown, knowing that if I’m not careful, Hazel will drag me onto every ride at the county fair she can.
With that thought, I follow Jed into the big white tent set up with tables, grills, and one covered table for the entries of the BBQ competition to be presented.
I intend to be knee-deep in work by then, however.
Depositing the bags on Jed’s table, I straighten and pull my camera off my chest. “You know? I was expecting something smaller,” I admit as I snap a few pictures of the clutter on his table, which sits beside a small grill. “This is actually pretty nice.”
“Apparently, the competition gets fierce,” Jed murmurs in his soft voice that barely carries over the noise of the crowds both in and outside the tent.
We aren’t the only ones getting set up, and I wander around for a few seconds, taking photos of other tables and contestants.
A few of them smile at me, mostly the older ladies with their homemade aprons and sauce already simmering on a portable cooktop.
Some men glance up at me, half of them scowling and half smirking as I pass, but many of them just keep prepping.
Finally, I wander back over to Jed, leaning up on the balls of my feet to kiss his cheek. “You’re gonna kill ‘em, babe,” I whisper in his ear, smiling when he turns baby blue eyes on me.
“But maybe not literally?” he points out as his smile curves up the corners of his mouth. “They might not let me compete next year if I, you know.” He sets down the package of bacon in his hand and theatrically mimes a chainsaw.
I can’t help but give a small cackle. I love his sweetness and his sense of humor, and I can’t help but throw my arms around his shoulders to pull my boyfriend close. “Yeah, maybe don’t do that. Human barbecue might be against the rules.”
“I don’t know.” Jed pretends to be conflicted. As always, my body feels so snug and perfect against his, and I let myself press my nose to his chest to inhale the scent of his cologne and just…him.
“That guy back there? Pretty sure he’s got some questionable mystery meat on the table.” Jed leans down to kiss my forehead. “I’d be willing to bet there’s some human thigh mixed into that sausage—”
“You’re so gross!” I push away from him, only for Jed to snicker and pull me back in with his arms slipping down around my waist. “I need to go for a while.”
“God, you’re so hot in your uniform,” Jed hums in response, which only prompts me to scoff.
When he finally lets go of me, I step back and pluck at my neon green shirt with the word PHOTOGRAPHER in big black letters.
With the back having the words SUMMIT COUNTY FAIR STAFF in a smaller less obtrusive font, there’s no way for anyone to not know what I’m here for.
“Uniform?” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “It’s a T-shirt. ”
“It’s hot,” he purrs, and wiggles his brows. “Oh, damn.” He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You know what I forgot?”
My heart leaps in my chest. “You forgot something? Do you need me to go back to the house to get—”
“My chainsaw.”
I stand there, staring at him, just for a beat before the snickers start. Jed grins as well and reaches out his hand, fingers straining toward me.
So I give him one last kiss, reminding myself that there are children here, so I probably shouldn’t let him dramatically dip me backwards and devour my mouth like he wants to eat me.
Even though that sounds really great right about now.
“Love you,” I breathe as I stand on my own again.
“I’ll be back. You’re amazing, you know?
” Deep down, I can’t help but wonder if he’s a little nervous.
Being a chef, Jed is an amazing cook. Everything he’s made for me over the past year of our relationship, I’ve loved enough to be tempted into licking the plate clean.
Except, of course, for the weird beef tongue dish I ended up feeding most of to New Wren. Even the little cat looked at it like he couldn’t be sure of its origins before taking a few careful bites of the meat.
“Not as much as I love you,” Jed replies easily, already slipping back into chef-mode as he unloads his food and kitchen tools from the box he carried in.
I stand there, watching and taking another couple of photos, before accepting the fact that I really should go take pictures of everything the fair has to offer.
The screaming of merry—or terrified—children picks up again the moment I’m no longer under the heavy, white material of the cooking tent.
I walk to the front, rounding on the sign declaring this is the site for today’s BBQ cook-off.
It even has a picture of last year’s winner on it; the blown-up photo is of an older lady in a flowery apron holding up a plate of ribs piled on a plate.
The ribbon takes up half of the frame, and I can’t help but eye the photo with a critical eye.
I’m not a fan. And know that whoever wins this year will get a much better photo of themselves for their shelf and for next year’s sign.
God, I hope Jed wins. I know he won’t really mind if he doesn’t.
I’ve never met someone less competitive in my life, truth be told.
And while I was the driving force for him entering this competition with the old recipe he inherited from his mother back in Texas, I still like to think he’s at least a little into it.
Though, of course, he’s had to revise the recipe so it no longer includes human meat as its primary protein. The fair probably had rules against that, I’d reasoned, even in the face of his deadpan expression.
For a little while, I take a few obligatory pictures of kids on the rides. As usual, a few families approach, asking for photos. Even though it isn’t really in my job description, I absolutely take their photos and give them my card that Jed made me create just for this occasion.
Even though I told him I’m not good enough, or really important enough, to warrant a whole ass business card.
I can’t help but pause as my brain unhelpfully drifts back to last week when I said that.
Even though it’s not really the place for it, I can’t help but remember how he pinned me down on our bed, reminding me with his words and his teeth and his fingers how much he dislikes it when I talk poorly about myself.
“Not the time, not the time,” I whisper to myself as I take another family portrait. The kids beam, both of them holding big ass cotton candy sticks in their hands. Their mouths are sticky, and I can see they’ve both started losing their teeth as adult ones push through their gums.
Adorable.
And when they start yelling at their parents to take them back to the Ferris wheel to go again, for the sixth time today, if I’ve heard right, I remember just why I never want kids. I’d much rather be the crazy cat lady with her reformed cannibal boyfriend.
After I made my way through the animal barns to take pictures of all the livestock being shown here, I decide to make another round of the main drag, wanting to take pictures for the county fair to show just how popular it is.
Maybe if I do a good job, one of my photos will end up as the main website banner to advertise the fair.
It takes a moment to realize that I recognize two of the people standing in line for the Tilt-a-Whirl. While I enjoy rides, there’s no way I’d get on that spinning death trap unless I wanted to spew chunks like Reagan in The Exorcist.
Hazel and Wren are standing there, holding hands and talking animatedly to each other. He pulls her close, smiling, and nuzzles his nose to hers in a way that makes her beam with delight.
“Sickening,” a voice beside me sighs. I know that voice, though not well. Cass has been coming around more, but his girlfriend Winnie isn’t really the most social creature I’ve ever met and she doesn’t always join him. “Simply sickening.”
“Is it?” I ask lightly, turning to give her a grin.
I expect to see Cassian with her, but she’s standing there alone, unimpressed, arms folded over her chest. “You here alone?” Somewhat surprised she’s come up to me.
It’s not that I don’t like her. Quite the opposite.
But out of all my friends—new or old—she’s the one who reminds me the most of an ex-feral house cat.
Social when she wants to be, but usually anything but.
In that way, she’s an excellent match for Cass. While Jed is quiet, he isn’t particularly antisocial. Just…shy. Not that I’ll say that to his face.
“No. My boyfriend went looking for your boyfriend. I figure they’ll stand there looking broody together while Jed makes his barbecue.” She pauses, then adds, “What, uh, meat is he substituting in his recipe?”
A smile twitches at the corner of my mouth, and I take a moment to answer, but only so I can snap some pictures of Wren and Hazel, who really do look like a couple in their honeymoon phase.
Except for Sloane and Virgil, though, they’ve been together the longest out of anyone in our friend group.
Yet here they are. Still hopelessly in love with each other and not afraid to show the world.
Maybe I’ll give them these photos for their wedding.
Along with, well, being their photographer and not charging them.
Even though Hazel has already tried to fight me on that point.