Near and Far
Page 18
“Says the guy standing there doing nothing.” Garth didn’t take his eyes off of the pan on the stove. I think he was attempting to scramble eggs. The only thing that looked scrambled, though, was his expression.
“Nice to see you preparing for your future. Behind an oven, spatula in hand.” I clapped my hands over Garth’s shoulders and gave them a hard squeeze.
He shrugged me off. “Go blank off, Walker.”
“Touchy. Even you must recognize there’s a kernel of truth in what I just said.” I poured a glass of orange juice, downed it in one long gulp, then poured another. I needed my Vitamin C and energy to survive one of the all-time worst breakfasts in history.
“At least I’m living it up now and saving my p**sy-whipped period for when I’m old and ugly. Unlike someone else I know.”
“Are you calling me old and ugly?” I asked with a straight face.
“Yes. And p**sy-whipped.” Garth poked at the eggs with the spatula like he was afraid they were about to come to life.
“I love you too, Black.” Finishing my second glass of orange juice, I dropped the glass in the sink.
Garth mumbled his response while I shouldered up beside Dad. He had a grave expression as he manned the griddle.
“Where do you need me, Captain? I’m suited up and ready to go.” I had to nudge him before he acknowledged me.
“Oh. Hey, Jess.” Dad’s gaze didn’t shift from the handful of runny pancakes on the griddle. “Sleep good?”
I grinned, remembering who I’d gotten to sleep with. “Slept great.” Then I remembered the nightmare that had jolted me awake. My smile fell, but I didn’t let it disappear completely.
“Pussy-whipped,” Garth said with a loud cough.
“Good, good. Glad to hear it.” Dad stepped aside and handed me the spatula. “Why don’t you take over? See if you can get those devil pancakes to behave.”
“How long have you been cooking them?” I tried to keep my amusement contained. Watching a man like my dad, who I’d watched leap in front of a charging horse, back away from an electric kitchen device like it was the most frightening thing he’d ever seen was all kinds of funny.
“Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty.”
I didn’t know jack about cooking, but I knew enough to realize something was way wrong if pancakes were taking a half hour to cook. Studying the griddle, I saw the problem. “It helps if you turn it on, Dad.”
“I plugged it in,” Dad said, sounding almost defensive.
I reminded myself not to smile. “And for that, you get partial credit. To get full credit, you needed to turn the dial on.”
Dad scowled at the griddle. “Okay, since you’re the expert, you’re on pancake detail. I’ll go man the coffee.”
I chuckled and turned the dial to the right heat setting. “You mean you’ll drink the coffee.”
“Someone’s got to be in charge of quality control.”
I’d just wrestled away one of the spatulas Garth was hoarding when the back screen door whooshed open. A familiar voice exclaimed, “Holy cows on crack! Are you frying up entrails or something because the smell coming from this kitchen was burning my nose before I even stepped out of my truck.”
I was about to greet Josie when a yelp sounded beside me. Garth was shaking his hand furiously and glaring at the fry pan. He was biting his tongue so hard to keep from swearing, he looked close to drawing blood.
“There’s no shame in losing. You’ve put up a good fight, but how much longer are you going to torture yourself?” I said. After putting up with a hefty dose of abstinence last night, I knew there was no way I could go another night.
“I’m going to torture myself a whole two seconds longer than you, Walker. Just long enough to bask in my victory. Then I’m letting loose every last word I’ve been holding back.”
He really was the most stubborn person I’d come across. “I don’t know that waving your hand around like that is doing much good. Other than making the rest of us laugh.”
Garth stopped waving his hand, shot me a glare, and stormed over to the fridge. “Where’s the butter?”
Josie intercepted Garth at the fridge, grabbed his wrist, and marched him over to the sink. “Butter?! No, absolutely not. That is, like, the worst possible thing to put on a burn.”
“Hey, Pushy, think you could lock that chick-crazy instinct inside long enough to let me tend to my wounds?” Garth tried to pull his hand out of her grasp, but all that did was make Josie tighten her hold.
“Hey, Asshole, think you could shut the snarky up and let someone actually help you for once in your life?” Josie cranked on the faucet and tested the water with her wrist before guiding Garth’s palm beneath it.
“Cold water? Really? No, butter’s what you put on burns.” Even though he was still fighting, I could see relief flood Garth’s face as the cold water streamed on his hand.
“Says who?”
“Says my dad.”
Josie practically snorted. “Yeah, and we all know your dad deserves the father of the year award.”
Garth’s whole body went stiff right before he snapped his hand out of Josie’s grip. “I think I’ve had enough of you and your help for two lifetimes.”
Josie didn’t flinch like most people would have. She didn’t even blink when Garth turned his most potent glare on her. “And I’ve had enough of you and your lack of help for three lifetimes.”
“No arguing in my kitchen. It’s a rule.” Mom and the girls entered the kitchen, doing their best to not look appalled. The expression on Clem’s face made up for the absence of one on the rest of theirs. From her utter horror, anyone would have thought she’d just walked in on us shaving a litter of puppies.
“Sorry, Mrs. Walker. There’s just something about Garth that brings out the worst in me.” Josie shut off the sink and glared at Garth’s back.
“At last. A compliment.” Garth stopped in front of the oven again, grabbing the spatula like it was a weapon and the fry pan was the enemy.
“I didn’t realize it was the guys’ attempt and sequential failure”—Josie practically spat the last word at Garth—“to cook this morning. I just stopped by to check on Jo. Is she up yet?”
“I’ve been up for two hours, thank you very much,” Jolene said as she joined everyone in the kitchen.
When Josie passed me, she gave me her greeting slug. “Two hours? What in the world have you been doing for two hours? Lord knows you weren’t out collecting eggs or cleaning out stalls.”
“Getting ready.”
“For what? You expecting it to rain Hollywood hotties this afternoon or something?” Josie was in a mood. She was about as stubborn as Garth and could be as moody too. When both of them were like that, it was best to keep all things of a breakable nature out of arm’s reach.
“No, but a girl never knows when her future husband might lay eyes on her for the first time. If that day were today, I sure wouldn’t want him to see nothing but a country bumpkin.” Jolene came up beside me. I was watching the pancakes like a hawk. If nothing else, the pancakes would be edible. “Hey, Jesse.”
I nodded my acknowledgement. “Hi, Jolene. How’s the ankle?” I took a brief look at her bandaged ankle. It looked pretty swollen, but at least it was just a sprain. After the fall she’d taken, I was afraid she might have broken her leg.
“It’s just peachy. Thanks to my hero making sure I got such speedy medical attention.” Jolene leaned in closer.
Scared she was going to injure herself yet again, I slid the griddle down the counter and myself along with it. The girl was accident prone.
“Do you need any help with those?” Jolene hobbled a couple steps closer. There was no more cord for me to scoot it any farther out of the way.
“Nah, I think I’ve got it. Why don’t you sit down and get comfortable with the rest of the girls? It’s our morning to serve you all. Or at least try to serve.” Looking around at the breakfast efforts, I thought maybe it was time to throw in the white flag.
Jolene stepped closer. At that proximity, her arm was literally half a foot away from sizzling against the fry pan. I wasn’t in the mood for another E.R. visit. Maybe Garth would fill-in. Oh, wait. No, not likely. I felt like Jolene was waiting for me to look at her, but the pancakes were so close to being done that I couldn’t spare one moment of distraction.
Her hand curled around my forearm. “And what if I want to serve you?”
I don’t know what I was more confused by: her words or her hand on my arm. How in the world was I supposed to respond? I don’t know if it was Jolene or women in general, but I never seemed to get what they were saying between the lines. I was just looking to Garth for a little help when I felt that familiar jolt. I actually sighed with relief. I dropped the spatula, forgot about the pancakes, and turned to find Rowen hovering in the kitchen doorway. Her gaze wasn’t on me—it was on Jolene, and she didn’t look especially thrilled. When her attention moved my way, her whole face changed. Mine mirrored hers.
“Hey, Cowboy. You haven’t said good morning yet.” Rowen crossed the kitchen toward me like a woman on a mission.
I shoved off of the counter and wrapped my arms around her once she was close enough. “Good—” That was all I got out before Rowen’s mouth crushed into mine. I was self-conscious about kissing—well, making out—with my girlfriend in front of twenty people for about two seconds before everything faded away. All that was left was Rowen, me, and that kiss. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of my neck as mine focused on holding her as close as one person could be against another.
“Go get a room. It’s going to be hard enough to hold this breakfast down without having you two sucking face two feet in front of me.”
I heard Garth’s words, but his message didn’t register until he hurled a spoonful of pancake batter at my face. That was enough to bring me back to reality, and a smirking cowboy over my girlfriend’s shoulder wasn’t the reality I wanted to be in. Especially after that last one I’d been enjoying.
“Jealous?” I glared at Garth, keeping Rowen close.
“Not even close.”
“Here you go, Jesse. Let me get that off for you.” Jolene lifted a wet washcloth.
Rowen’s arm flashed in front of Jolene, stopping her and the washcloth. “I got this, Jolene. If you want something to wipe clean, why don’t you wipe that smirk off of Black’s face?” Then, wiping some of the batter from my face, Rowen lifted her finger to her mouth. Giving me a coy smile, she slipped her finger in her mouth and sucked the batter right off. Slowly sucked it off.
A shiver ran down my back. Sliding her finger free, she leaned in and whispered, “The pancakes are burning.” She shot me a wink before heading over to the table to take a seat. “Oh”—she stopped, snapping her fingers—“and good morning.”
“Nice to see you preparing for your future. Behind an oven, spatula in hand.” I clapped my hands over Garth’s shoulders and gave them a hard squeeze.
He shrugged me off. “Go blank off, Walker.”
“Touchy. Even you must recognize there’s a kernel of truth in what I just said.” I poured a glass of orange juice, downed it in one long gulp, then poured another. I needed my Vitamin C and energy to survive one of the all-time worst breakfasts in history.
“At least I’m living it up now and saving my p**sy-whipped period for when I’m old and ugly. Unlike someone else I know.”
“Are you calling me old and ugly?” I asked with a straight face.
“Yes. And p**sy-whipped.” Garth poked at the eggs with the spatula like he was afraid they were about to come to life.
“I love you too, Black.” Finishing my second glass of orange juice, I dropped the glass in the sink.
Garth mumbled his response while I shouldered up beside Dad. He had a grave expression as he manned the griddle.
“Where do you need me, Captain? I’m suited up and ready to go.” I had to nudge him before he acknowledged me.
“Oh. Hey, Jess.” Dad’s gaze didn’t shift from the handful of runny pancakes on the griddle. “Sleep good?”
I grinned, remembering who I’d gotten to sleep with. “Slept great.” Then I remembered the nightmare that had jolted me awake. My smile fell, but I didn’t let it disappear completely.
“Pussy-whipped,” Garth said with a loud cough.
“Good, good. Glad to hear it.” Dad stepped aside and handed me the spatula. “Why don’t you take over? See if you can get those devil pancakes to behave.”
“How long have you been cooking them?” I tried to keep my amusement contained. Watching a man like my dad, who I’d watched leap in front of a charging horse, back away from an electric kitchen device like it was the most frightening thing he’d ever seen was all kinds of funny.
“Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty.”
I didn’t know jack about cooking, but I knew enough to realize something was way wrong if pancakes were taking a half hour to cook. Studying the griddle, I saw the problem. “It helps if you turn it on, Dad.”
“I plugged it in,” Dad said, sounding almost defensive.
I reminded myself not to smile. “And for that, you get partial credit. To get full credit, you needed to turn the dial on.”
Dad scowled at the griddle. “Okay, since you’re the expert, you’re on pancake detail. I’ll go man the coffee.”
I chuckled and turned the dial to the right heat setting. “You mean you’ll drink the coffee.”
“Someone’s got to be in charge of quality control.”
I’d just wrestled away one of the spatulas Garth was hoarding when the back screen door whooshed open. A familiar voice exclaimed, “Holy cows on crack! Are you frying up entrails or something because the smell coming from this kitchen was burning my nose before I even stepped out of my truck.”
I was about to greet Josie when a yelp sounded beside me. Garth was shaking his hand furiously and glaring at the fry pan. He was biting his tongue so hard to keep from swearing, he looked close to drawing blood.
“There’s no shame in losing. You’ve put up a good fight, but how much longer are you going to torture yourself?” I said. After putting up with a hefty dose of abstinence last night, I knew there was no way I could go another night.
“I’m going to torture myself a whole two seconds longer than you, Walker. Just long enough to bask in my victory. Then I’m letting loose every last word I’ve been holding back.”
He really was the most stubborn person I’d come across. “I don’t know that waving your hand around like that is doing much good. Other than making the rest of us laugh.”
Garth stopped waving his hand, shot me a glare, and stormed over to the fridge. “Where’s the butter?”
Josie intercepted Garth at the fridge, grabbed his wrist, and marched him over to the sink. “Butter?! No, absolutely not. That is, like, the worst possible thing to put on a burn.”
“Hey, Pushy, think you could lock that chick-crazy instinct inside long enough to let me tend to my wounds?” Garth tried to pull his hand out of her grasp, but all that did was make Josie tighten her hold.
“Hey, Asshole, think you could shut the snarky up and let someone actually help you for once in your life?” Josie cranked on the faucet and tested the water with her wrist before guiding Garth’s palm beneath it.
“Cold water? Really? No, butter’s what you put on burns.” Even though he was still fighting, I could see relief flood Garth’s face as the cold water streamed on his hand.
“Says who?”
“Says my dad.”
Josie practically snorted. “Yeah, and we all know your dad deserves the father of the year award.”
Garth’s whole body went stiff right before he snapped his hand out of Josie’s grip. “I think I’ve had enough of you and your help for two lifetimes.”
Josie didn’t flinch like most people would have. She didn’t even blink when Garth turned his most potent glare on her. “And I’ve had enough of you and your lack of help for three lifetimes.”
“No arguing in my kitchen. It’s a rule.” Mom and the girls entered the kitchen, doing their best to not look appalled. The expression on Clem’s face made up for the absence of one on the rest of theirs. From her utter horror, anyone would have thought she’d just walked in on us shaving a litter of puppies.
“Sorry, Mrs. Walker. There’s just something about Garth that brings out the worst in me.” Josie shut off the sink and glared at Garth’s back.
“At last. A compliment.” Garth stopped in front of the oven again, grabbing the spatula like it was a weapon and the fry pan was the enemy.
“I didn’t realize it was the guys’ attempt and sequential failure”—Josie practically spat the last word at Garth—“to cook this morning. I just stopped by to check on Jo. Is she up yet?”
“I’ve been up for two hours, thank you very much,” Jolene said as she joined everyone in the kitchen.
When Josie passed me, she gave me her greeting slug. “Two hours? What in the world have you been doing for two hours? Lord knows you weren’t out collecting eggs or cleaning out stalls.”
“Getting ready.”
“For what? You expecting it to rain Hollywood hotties this afternoon or something?” Josie was in a mood. She was about as stubborn as Garth and could be as moody too. When both of them were like that, it was best to keep all things of a breakable nature out of arm’s reach.
“No, but a girl never knows when her future husband might lay eyes on her for the first time. If that day were today, I sure wouldn’t want him to see nothing but a country bumpkin.” Jolene came up beside me. I was watching the pancakes like a hawk. If nothing else, the pancakes would be edible. “Hey, Jesse.”
I nodded my acknowledgement. “Hi, Jolene. How’s the ankle?” I took a brief look at her bandaged ankle. It looked pretty swollen, but at least it was just a sprain. After the fall she’d taken, I was afraid she might have broken her leg.
“It’s just peachy. Thanks to my hero making sure I got such speedy medical attention.” Jolene leaned in closer.
Scared she was going to injure herself yet again, I slid the griddle down the counter and myself along with it. The girl was accident prone.
“Do you need any help with those?” Jolene hobbled a couple steps closer. There was no more cord for me to scoot it any farther out of the way.
“Nah, I think I’ve got it. Why don’t you sit down and get comfortable with the rest of the girls? It’s our morning to serve you all. Or at least try to serve.” Looking around at the breakfast efforts, I thought maybe it was time to throw in the white flag.
Jolene stepped closer. At that proximity, her arm was literally half a foot away from sizzling against the fry pan. I wasn’t in the mood for another E.R. visit. Maybe Garth would fill-in. Oh, wait. No, not likely. I felt like Jolene was waiting for me to look at her, but the pancakes were so close to being done that I couldn’t spare one moment of distraction.
Her hand curled around my forearm. “And what if I want to serve you?”
I don’t know what I was more confused by: her words or her hand on my arm. How in the world was I supposed to respond? I don’t know if it was Jolene or women in general, but I never seemed to get what they were saying between the lines. I was just looking to Garth for a little help when I felt that familiar jolt. I actually sighed with relief. I dropped the spatula, forgot about the pancakes, and turned to find Rowen hovering in the kitchen doorway. Her gaze wasn’t on me—it was on Jolene, and she didn’t look especially thrilled. When her attention moved my way, her whole face changed. Mine mirrored hers.
“Hey, Cowboy. You haven’t said good morning yet.” Rowen crossed the kitchen toward me like a woman on a mission.
I shoved off of the counter and wrapped my arms around her once she was close enough. “Good—” That was all I got out before Rowen’s mouth crushed into mine. I was self-conscious about kissing—well, making out—with my girlfriend in front of twenty people for about two seconds before everything faded away. All that was left was Rowen, me, and that kiss. Her fingers played with the hair at the nape of my neck as mine focused on holding her as close as one person could be against another.
“Go get a room. It’s going to be hard enough to hold this breakfast down without having you two sucking face two feet in front of me.”
I heard Garth’s words, but his message didn’t register until he hurled a spoonful of pancake batter at my face. That was enough to bring me back to reality, and a smirking cowboy over my girlfriend’s shoulder wasn’t the reality I wanted to be in. Especially after that last one I’d been enjoying.
“Jealous?” I glared at Garth, keeping Rowen close.
“Not even close.”
“Here you go, Jesse. Let me get that off for you.” Jolene lifted a wet washcloth.
Rowen’s arm flashed in front of Jolene, stopping her and the washcloth. “I got this, Jolene. If you want something to wipe clean, why don’t you wipe that smirk off of Black’s face?” Then, wiping some of the batter from my face, Rowen lifted her finger to her mouth. Giving me a coy smile, she slipped her finger in her mouth and sucked the batter right off. Slowly sucked it off.
A shiver ran down my back. Sliding her finger free, she leaned in and whispered, “The pancakes are burning.” She shot me a wink before heading over to the table to take a seat. “Oh”—she stopped, snapping her fingers—“and good morning.”
