The Secret Ingredient (Love Around the Corner)

by Lynn Rae

  She knew she wasn’t concealing her enthusiasm very well when Nate pulled a plate from the shelf and served her the rest of the omelet. Nate brought her a glass of cold water, and she muttered thanks around some strands of mozzarella as she ate. So classy.

  “So, you like it.”

  “I shouldn’t, but I do.”

  “Kind of like me.”

  June sipped her water and stared at him, unsure if he was teasing her. Instead of responding, mostly because she didn’t know what to say, she took another bite of the omelet.

  Nate picked up a plate with bacon-and-mushroom filling and ate with quick, economical movements. “So, if I decide to add that one to the menu, may I call it the Junelette?”

  “You may not.”

  He laughed and picked up another dish for an experimental bite. “Come on, it’s got a great ring to it. I like your name. It reminds me of that little girl in those funny books, Junie B. Jones—”

  “Don’t even say it!” June put her plate down with a rattle, temper flaring. “I hate that nickname. Do you have any idea how many times I was called that when I was a kid?”

  “One too many?”

  “Damn right, one too many.”

  Nate blinked and tilted his head back. “You cussed.”

  “What, you think I don’t use profanity?”

  “You haven’t until now, so yeah, I thought you kept it clean.”

  June hacked off a chunk of her omelet with the edge of her fork and stuffed it in her mouth. It was good, and she wasn’t going to let it go to waste, not with all those other plates full of food destined for the trash. Kept it clean. Okay, so she sometimes came off as a little repressed, but it was because she worked around kids and didn’t want to slip up and say something she shouldn’t.

  “So, you want to go have a beer with me after I clean this up? It won’t take long.” Nate gestured at the kitchen as he picked up the container of broken eggshells and mixing bowl.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not? We both worked hard, and this is my only night off this week.”

  “Where else do you work?” She’d thought he only cooked at the diner.

  “I tend bar a few nights a week. And I cater parties when I can.”

  He probably made very good tips from the female customers when he bartended, and she had a feeling he catered a lot of bridal and baby showers. How he kept track of two work schedules and his own sideline business without a planner of some type was beyond her.

  “So, no beer?”

  She shook her head again and glanced down at the plate to find she’d eaten three quarters of the omelet. The combo was good enough to go on the menu, although naming it the Junelette would guarantee pitiful sales.

  Nate grabbed plates and scraped eggs into a trash container. “Too bad, Jonesy, we would’ve had a good time.”

  Rolling her eyes at the nickname, June grabbed her tote bags and headed for the door. Time to go home and get away from a big, charming man who knew how to cook eggs to perfection. “Don’t stay out too late. Tomorrow we go shopping.”

  “Normally when a woman says that to me I get cold chills, but with you, I’m looking forward to it. Jonesy.”

  “Spare me, Nate.”

  Chapter 3

  June hadn’t been thrilled with his idea for the shopping location. She’d grumbled while noting the butcher’s address in her planner, and Nate had half wondered if she’d show up.

  He pulled in at the parking lot for Walter’s Meat Processing to find she was already there, standing by her car, wearing sunglasses along with a mossy-green, knit shirt, and faded jeans. He decided to think of her as cute rather than as an elf, because he had a thing for Galadriel, and the last thing he should be doing was fantasizing about dark forests, mossy clearings, and June Sinclair in a long, silvery gown.

  He got out of his car and waved a greeting to her, which she returned.

  “Did you get a chance to look at the stuff we did last night?”

  June nodded and took off her sunglasses with a squint. “I think we have a couple of minutes of good footage.”

  “Only a couple?” Two hours of eggs and that’s all he’d managed to produce? Maybe he wasn’t cut out to be on television after all.

  June popped the hatch and pulled out her canvas tote again. “They’re good minutes. I have a feeling we aren’t going to get more than a few seconds here.” Her nose crinkled as she looked over the plain, white-painted cinder-block exterior of the business. Thankfully, there wasn’t a stock trailer pulled up behind. June probably wouldn’t like being there when slaughtering was taking place.

  “They have the best meat in the county. The judges will notice something like that.” Nate didn’t know that; he just wanted to sound confident.

  June shrugged and followed him to the door, stepping ahead of him as he held the door for her. The retail side of the operation was small, just one long refrigerated meat case, a short counter, and green-tiled floors and walls. June pulled out her camera and panned around after stashing her bag in the farthest corner.

  John Walter bustled out from the back and wiped his hands on his apron. Nate had always liked coming here, not just for the superior product, but because the meat cutters adhered to the old school, all-white uniforms and paper hats. They still wrapped the meat in brown paper and tied up the packages with string. As a kid, he’d been fascinated by the big slicers and knives in the cutting room, visible through a plate-glass window behind the sales counter. His mom had stopped here once a week for a roast and some ground beef, and he’d always tagged along on her shopping errands if they included a stop at the butcher. Shopping for meat was one of the few childhood memories he had where his mom wasn’t disappointed with him.

  Nate greeted John and introduced June. She smiled and thanked him for his help and then glanced at Nate with a question in her eyes.

  “So, how do you want to do this?” John asked as he washed his hands.

  “I don’t know. June, what should we do?”

  She glanced back and forth between them and cleared her throat. “How about I stand by the wall over there,” she indicated the one closest to the cash register, “and you bring out a few steaks or briskets or what have you, and I film.”

  “Do you want us to talk?”

  June shook her head and raised the camera. “Sure, but I won’t use sound. I’m just going to focus on you, Nate.”

  John chuckled. “I know I’m doing no favors for the camera.”

  “No, sir, that’s not it at all,” June cut in quickly. “I don’t have a release with me and they wouldn’t be able to broadcast something with you in it without a signed one. We have to do it all the time at the school. You look very nice.”

  “What about me?” Nate asked, feigning hurt as John puffed out his barrel chest at the compliment. She hadn’t responded to his charm at all, and he worried he was losing his touch. Maybe she just liked older men. He pretended to talk to John while looking at some massive porterhouse steaks the butcher had pulled from the case.

  “You look exactly like yourself,” June said from behind her camera.

  “That doesn’t tell me anything.”

  “Exactly. Shake your head and point to something else in the case.”

  Nate shuffled down one step and pointed to a couple of legs of lamb. John obediently pulled one out and displayed it. It was a nice piece of lamb. “What do you think she means by that, John? Who else would I look like?”

  John shrugged, a glint of humor in his eyes. “Maybe she doesn’t go for your type. She might like a man with some meat on his bones.”

  The butcher winked at June, and Nate could have sworn he heard her giggle. He’d never heard the sound before so he couldn’t be sure. Nate shook his head at the lamb, and John slid it back into the case with ease. Okay, the guy was built like a brick wall, but he was way older than June and probably married with kids.

  “Is that true, June? I’m too skinny for you?”
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br />   “Does it matter?”

  Nate stood up straight, the urge to pantomime for her over. John laughed and closed the case and ambled back toward June. Nate didn’t have a response for her. He wasn’t interested in dating June Sinclair, or anyone at this point, since he’d hopefully be heading to Hollywood or Burbank very soon. He supposed he was just used to friendlier interactions with women, and June’s reserve was perplexing.

  He looked over at her, since he’d seen enough raw meat, and saw she and John were watching a playback on her camera. Within a few steps, he too was at her side, bending his head to get a look. He couldn’t see well and reached out to cup her hand to angle the screen slightly. She jumped at the contact and glanced up at him, her nose almost brushing against his cheek. The sequence playing on the tiny screen matched up exactly with what had just happened so he wasn’t sure why they were so interested in it.

  “Do you like sausage?” John asked June. Nate scowled at him. What the hell; was that some sort of butcher’s pick-up line?

  June smiled and powered down her camera. “Sure.”

  “Come out back, and let me show you something.” John’s eyebrows quirked up like he had an exciting secret. Nate tried to send the butcher a back off look, but the big man merely ambled out the front door and beckoned for them to follow. “Can’t take you through the building because of health regulations.”

  June followed, camera in hand, and Nate walked behind her, not sure if he was the third wheel or not. They rounded the corner of the building, thankfully not the one leading to the loading gates, and ended up on a cement slab where an enormous metal cylinder rested next to the back door. The delicious aroma of meat and smoke filled his nose, and he breathed it in with happiness.

  “Ooh,” June whispered.

  “John, don’t tell me you’re curing meats back here.”

  “It’s in the experimental stages at this point, but we’re in the process of getting our license and inspection for it.” John grinned with pride as he grabbed a heavy, padded mitt from a hook on the side of the contraption and opened the hatch. A steamy burst of air poured out, heavy with the scent of smoldering wood, spices, and of course, big chunks of slow-cooking red meat. “Care to sample? The sausage and brisket are ready to go.”

  John leaned in and looked over brownish lumps resting on racks inside the metal tube. “Tim put some hot dogs and cheese in here, too.”

  June exhaled loudly. “Smoked hot dogs? I never heard of such a thing.”

  John nodded and promised to go back inside for some plates and napkins. The big man ducked into the building, and he and June drew closer to the open door. The medley of aromas was incredible; rich beef, pork, hints of chicken, and sausage seasoning. The butcher returned before Nate could identify very many of the cuts of meat inside. The butcher efficiently sliced several items and piled them on a stack of paper plates.

  “Got a customer, have at it.” John handed the plate over to Nate and pointed out a nearby picnic table under a sycamore tree before he left them again.

  They took seats opposite each other, and Nate distributed extra plates and paper napkins.

  “No fork or knife?” June asked. “I guess it’s finger food.”

  She reached into the pile and pulled on the end of a burgundy-colored hot dog. It suddenly spiraled as she lifted it, and she laughed at the sight. It looked like an enormous meaty corkscrew. Nate gestured for a share and she nodded and tore it in half to give him a piece. It was crispy, juicy, and about the best hot dog he’d ever eaten.

  “Oh, this is good. I like burned hot dogs, and when it’s cut like this, there’s so much more cooked surface area.” June broke her spiral into smaller pieces and sampled, nodding her head as she chewed.

  Next was the brisket, which was just about perfect. The smoke ring was crispy and full of flavor, and the meat was tender enough to tear apart with his fingers. With a little protein on board, Nate decided conversation was in order.

  “How did you get so good at this?”

  “What, eating bits of meat?” June’s good-humored gaze met his, and her eyes crinkled at the corners.

  “Filming things. My sister told me you’re a school secretary—”

  “Admin specialist, if you please.” She stuck out her pointy chin in mock dismay.

  “Pardon me. How did a skilled admin specialist become such a talented filmmaker?”

  “You haven’t seen what I’ve done yet. You might decide I’m a hack.”

  “Let’s hope not.” Nate made an inquiring tilt of his head as he broke the sausage in half and handed over a portion to her. “I’m curious, especially since I’m hopefully going to end up in front of more cameras.”

  June shrugged and something glittered at the V of her shirt. He leaned closer and took a look. It was a tiny pin of a crab. Realizing it looked as if he was trying to peek at her breasts, he leaned back quickly. She didn’t seem to notice as she wiped her fingers on a napkin.

  “I volunteered to help with the presentations and shows at school. We tape when special guests come in and do a talk, and when the kids perform, for internal use. It’s partly to keep track of what we’re doing, and we’ve found it useful for review.”

  She cleared her throat and spoke up before he could ask another question. “Why cooking for you?”

  Nate dropped some shreds of brisket on her plate as he considered how to answer. He hardly wanted to delve into his psyche on such a sunny day, with good food in front of him, and an intelligent woman across the table. Or perhaps that was the perfect time for it.

  “My mom and dad broke up when I was a kid, and since my mom had to work, my sis and I split up the chores. She cleaned, and I managed the kitchen. College wasn’t my thing, so I just kept cooking after graduation.”

  June narrowed her eyes and studied him. He wondered how much she was reading into that terse recital of his personal history. Better to get her talking now.

  “What about you? What made you dedicate yourself to school admin?”

  A harp-like run of notes interrupted him, and she winced. “Sorry. I hate to take calls when I’m talking with someone, but this is my grandma.”

  She leaned over and rummaged in her canvas bag, and Nate looked at the shreds of meat on his plate rather than take another peek down her shirt. He tried not to listen in as her voice transformed from upbeat to concerned, with only a few exchanges.

  * * * *

  June absentmindedly greeted Gran as she contemplated meat and Nate Garner. Both were right in front of her, so it wasn’t a challenge. He had politely turned his attention to the remains of their unexpected snack, so she looked away and tried to concentrate on her caller.

  “Junie pie, I hate to bother you,” Gran began, and at the nickname and false cheer in the older woman’s voice, June’s heart sank. This was likely about her brother. Or someone had died.

  “Is it Simon? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing serious, not like that. He’s just been feeling blue, like I said, and he’s not answering his door when I knock.”

  “When was the last time you talked with him?” June didn’t ask when Gran had seen her brother; he could go for days without emerging from his room, other than to go to the bathroom or make late-night foraging runs to the kitchen.

  “Oh, he stopped talking to me yesterday afternoon. Mad about the move, still.”

  “Is he actually there? Are you sure?” June glanced up at Nate to find he was clearing up the plates and napkins. He met her gaze for a moment before he rose to deposit their trash in a barrel near the door. He lingered next to the smoker, ostensibly inspecting the device. June sighed as sudden gratitude for his politeness overwhelmed her.

  “His car’s in the driveway,” Gran replied. She was probably staring out the front window at it just to verify Simon hadn’t slipped out the bedroom window and taken off just as she’d called.

  “Should I come over? Yes, I should, you wouldn’t have called me otherwise. I’m on my way.” J
une’s stomach turned over and tightened in a hard knot. She hoped against hope her brother wasn’t descending into another one of his depressive episodes. It had only been a couple of months since his last one. She quickly reviewed how much money she had in her account in case she needed to cover a doctor’s appointment for him. There was no way she could afford a therapist right now.

  “No, don’t rush over here. Weren’t you out on a date with that Nate fellow?”

  “It’s not a date, Gran. I’m filming him for that audition, that’s all.” June was careful to keep her voice low. The last thing she wanted was for Nate Garner to hear her utter the word “date.”

  Gran made a dismissive sound, and June promised to see her soon before hanging up the phone. She dropped it in her bag and looked up for Nate. He was crouched down looking over the bottom of the smoker, apparently entranced by how the wood was loaded in.

  Pushing out another sigh, June rose from the cleared picnic table and walked over to him. That familiar pressure to cope with her brother’s mood swings made her immensely tired all of a sudden.

  “Nate, I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

  He stood up and turned her way, leaning close as he looked at her. “I guess it’s stupid of me to ask if everything’s okay.”

  She tightened her lips rather than explain what was happening. She never wanted to talk with anyone about Simon. Nate Garner wouldn’t be an exception. “It’s not stupid. I just can’t talk about it right now.”

  Why had she added that last part? She shook her head, despair clawing at her. The idea that she’d soon be crouched next to her brother’s closed bedroom door, begging him to open it, made her want to weep.

  “Can I help? I could call you later.” Nate leaned even closer, his voice a soft rumble. As he reached out a hand to her elbow, June found herself wanting to lean on him a little bit. Just for a minute before she had to go and patch her family back together again. As soon as his fingers touched her skin, she jumped and backed away.