by Bree Cariad
“He’s coming tonight?” she asked, half sitting up.
“Yep.”
“Shall I make another dessert?” Placing her eReader down, she slid off the bed, already slipping her toes into a pair of sandals.
“That would be perfect, Deek. I’m going to throw together a meatloaf. And, so you know? He has a love for anything chocolate.” Winking at her, he left the room, leaving her with a high-grade blush and a huge grin on her face. “If you go to the store, can you grab some potatoes?” he hollered from the direction of his bedroom.
“On it! Taking the truck!” she shouted.
“Keys are on the coffee table!” he bellowed back, always managing to roar a little louder than she could.
Grinning widely, Deeka grabbed his keys and headed out the door. There was a freedom to having her father know she was interested. He would, if she knew him as well as she thought she did, feel his friend out about it. Plus, if Curtis wasn’t a good man, he would have made that very clear.
Rosaurs was busy, but she knew what she needed. If Curtis was a chocolate fiend? She had just the right recipe for him. Quickly she gathered her ingredients, adding in some potatoes and a few vegetables just in case her father needed them. As she stopped by the dairy department to grab a jug of whipping cream, she felt a presence behind her and turned.
“Hi,” she said in surprise.
“Deeka, right?” Camille Kinsley said with a smile.
“Yep.”
“Thanks for helping Jerod the last couple of days. Our yard’s beginning to look tame again,” she said with a grin, reaching in for a bottle of milk.
“Actually, it’s been kind of fun. Your husband has a keen sense of humor.”
Laughing, Cami nodded. “Yes, he does. He said you’re in your courting year?” Deeka nodded. “Found anyone worthwhile yet?”
Deeka didn’t answer, but her pink cheeks spoke loud and clear.
“Good for you. Jerod was totally unexpected, but I’m the happiest woman alive. And I swear I get happier every day.”
A thin woman with blonde hair and an upturned nose walked up, pushed Cami out of her way with her hips, and grabbed a container of milk. “I would never feed my baby that milk,” she said with a definite sniff, looking at the bottle Camille had placed in her basket. “I like her to get the finest.”
Camille’s eyes narrowed even as another woman walked up around Cami’s age with shoulder-length dark red hair and twinkling light brown eyes. “Ooh, look who it is. Marjorie Farthing. So, how’s it going on the getting your baby girl ready to attract a Covington bandwagon? Nope? Not yet? Well, don’t worry. I’ve heard there are some great guys down on Fargyle for her,” she said with a saccharine smile.
Camille snorted a laugh as Marjorie’s face turned bright pink and then red. Deeka half expected steam to come out of her ears.
“Is there a problem?” The man speaking stepped up and put an arm around the redhead who had just spoken. She grimaced and traded a strange look with Camille.
“Your wife just insulted my daughter,” Marjorie said, sniffing again.
“I see. And who did you insult first?” he asked, his voice calm.
“I said nothing!” she snapped, stomping her foot like a child. “Every time I come near, Stephanie does nothing but be mean to me. Maybe you should keep your wife in li—” Her voice cut off as he leaned forward. He didn’t even necessarily look that imposing to Deeka, but Marjorie slunk back.
“Might I remind you, Mrs. Farthing, that I know you? I know what you’ve said about my Stephanie as well as the horrible insults you threw at Dora all the time. You can be assured Stephanie and I will be discussing this, and,” he said, emphasizing the word, “you can also be assured I’ll be having a talk with your husband. Your needling behavior must stop.”
Her eyes went wide and as the milk slipped from her fingers, crashing to the ground, she turned and fled, missing the four of them jumping out of the way of the white liquid splashing all over the floor.
“Huh,” Stephanie said, cocking her head. “Marjorie pees milk.”
Spluttering a laugh, Camille tried to cover her mouth, but it didn’t work. Her giggles rang through the store. The man next to Stephanie tapped his hand down on her hips sharply, drawing her attention.
“Stop,” he said gently.
“I know,” she sighed, leaning against him. “Don’t you have any enemies you’d like to take down every time you see them?”
Chuckling, he kissed her forehead. “We’ll talk about this when we get home. Cami,” he said, looking at Camille who was still giggling, “tell Jerod I’m up for climbing next Wednesday.” His eyes slid to where Deeka had been taking all of this in. “And who’s this?” he asked with a charming smile, holding out his hand.
“Oh!” Cami said, her giggles stopping. “Chris, this is Deeka Williams. She’s one of our neighbors in Hins Creek. Deeka, this is Christopher Triton and his wife Stephanie. She and I have been friends forever.”
“And ever,” Stephanie added with a wide grin.
“Deeka’s eighteen.”
To the outsider that would probably sound like a strange thing to say, but both Stephanie and Chris smiled with understanding.
“Enjoying it so far?” Stephanie asked with interest.
“It’s only been a few days since I turned eighteen. But so far, so good.”
“Well, hopefully you find a great guy like Chris,” she said, leaning back against her husband.
“Or Jerod,” Camille pitched in.
“Or Xan or Gaelic,” Stephanie said and the two laughed.
Out of the corner of her eye, Deeka spotted movement and turning, a huge grin crossed her face. “Hi, Curtis.”
His wheelchair moved up to the spilled milk and he looked up and smiled back. “Deeka, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“I love your books,” she said quickly. “I’m already at Farfadet and am hooked.”
“Do you wish Avrahm or the leprechaun will win?” he teased, making her laugh.
Realizing the other three were watching, she quickly made introductions.
“I recognize you from the inn,” Chris said, shaking his hand. “I own it.”
“Wonderful,” Curtis said. “My compliments to whomever is your chef. Last night’s Baked Camembert was worth it. Haven’t tasted food that good since I left France.”
“Now you’ve done it,” Stephanie grinned, looking at the pleased expression on her husband’s face. “You’ve totally made his day.”
“I’m the head chef,” Chris explained and Curtis nodded.
“Then I hope to sample many more French dishes from you. I miss them.”
Remembering that he had spent a year in Paris, Deeka made a mental note to ask him about the food later on.
Before they could continue, Wally Smyder walked up with a mop and a bucket. “’Scuse me,” he grunted, glaring at the spill. Deeka, Camille, and Stephanie stepped back but both Chris and Curtis watched him mop up, frowning.
“Excuse me,” Wally said a little louder when he moved to get a different angle and Curtis was in his way. He muttered something about cripples and Curtis’s lips tightened, but he backed his chair up. Anger bloomed in Deeka’s chest. How dare he treat Curtis that way!
“What did you call him?” she snapped, forgetting there was a rather large audience, something she normally would have shied away from.
Wally looked up at her. “Oh, Deeka, didn’t see you. Don’t step forward or you’ll drag milk all over the store. So what happened? Wheelchairman drop his milk?” he asked with a snicker.
“Why you—” Deeka would have stepped forward but Chris held out a hand to stop her just as Curtis spoke.
“It’s all right, Deeka. Young man, after you’re done cleaning up the milk, please go get your manager.”
“Why?” Wally asked in a mulish tone, gathering the last of the milk up and wiping the floor down.
“Because I said so.” The tone was unmistakable and
everyone heard it. Camille, Stephanie, and Deeka reacted the same way. They became very still. Deeka’s father had taken on that tone many times. It clearly said one thing: I’m in charge, don’t mess with me. Chris smirked even as Wally gaped at Curtis for a moment before shrugging.
“Fine.” Giving the floor one last swipe with the mop which slapped Curtis’s feet as it went in front of his wheelchair, Wally turned and sauntered away, pushing the bucket in front of him.
Slowly Deeka turned her eyes to Curtis. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Small-minded people abound, Deeka. Don’t give him another thought.” His eyes focused on what was in her arms. “Making more dessert?”
It took her a second to remember why she had come to the store in the first place. Beaming, she nodded. “Yep.”
“I look forward to sampling it,” he said, grinning back. Before they could continue, a tall, rounded older man walked up.
“Is there a problem?” he asked, looking from Chris to the others before he finally looked down at Curtis.
“Yes, there is. Is there a place we can talk privately?” Curtis asked calmly.
“Uh, sure. Follow me.” He turned and shuffled away with Curtis gliding quickly behind him.
“Okay, so he’s a good one,” Stephanie said, nodding her head. Turning, she winked at Deeka. “Definitely a winner.”
“Oh…I—” Deeka stumbled over her words, not sure what to say.
“Don’t tease her, sweetheart,” Chris said, kissing Stephanie on the top of the head. “But, Deeka? I agree,” he teased, winking before taking his wife by the hand and leading her off.
“It was nice to meet you,” Stephanie called over her shoulder.
“Well, that was an eventful shopping trip.” Cami giggled, making Deeka look toward her. “I’d best be off. Hey, this Friday, Jerod and I are having a barbeque. Chris and Stephie’ll be there, as will my brother Xan and his wife Kathy and all of our children. A few more family members and some of our other neighbors as well. Why don’t you and your father come?”
“Sounds nice. I’ll ask him.”
As she had everything she needed, Deeka slowly moved up to the cash register. She hoped to spot Curtis to make sure he was okay with whatever was going on, but neither he nor the manager were in sight. In fact, neither was Wally. Which was a good thing. Deeka wanted to bounce something off his skull for the horrible things he had just said. What a jerk.
She purchased her items and was out and home without further incident. Whistling came from the kitchen which made her smile. Her father was cooking. “Hey, Dad,” Deeka said, walking into the kitchen and putting the bags down.
“Curtis’ll be here in about an hour. He called and asked if it was all right if he came by early.”
“Great. I’ll get started on this.” Deeka hummed softly as she grated the dark chocolate into a bowl and put a pan on the stove to heat up some milk.
“Why are your pants’ legs wet?” he asked and she looked down surprised as she hadn’t realized.
“Oh, someone dropped a carton of milk and it exploded. I’d better change. Be back in a minute.” Turning off the heat under the milk, she left.
“Take your time.”
She trotted into her room and gathered a change of clothes before going into the bathroom. After taking a quick shower, she changed into a pair of shorts and a camisole top, pulling her hair back into a French braid before dumping her dirty clothes in the hamper and going back into the kitchen.
By the time her chocolate ganache was ready, she had already created the crust and baked it for the fifteen minutes it needed. Pouring the thick and gooey pudding over the cookie crust, she breathed in the intense chocolate scent as she leveled it and placed it in the fridge to firm up. By the time the whipped cream was made and set aside, she felt excited for the evening to come. It might not be an official courting dinner, but she still couldn’t wait to see him again.
The sound of the front door opening set off butterflies in her stomach and she found herself patting down her clothes to put them in place, which was silly considering what she was wearing. Rolling her eyes at herself, she took a deep breath.
“Getting used to Hyacinth?” her father asked.
“Definitely.” Curtis’s voice brought a huge grin to her face and she walked around the corner between kitchen and living room, spotting him. He had changed since she saw him at the grocery store. Of course, Wally had bathed him in milky water. Now he wore black jeans and a t-shirt with some sort of faded logo on it. His eyes rose to hers when she walked in.
“Deeka,” he said warmly, “I hope you aren’t any worse for wear after this afternoon?”
“Nope. Had to throw my jeans into the wash. That was all.”
He grinned even as her father looked between the two of them. “Meet at the grocery store again?” her dad surmised.
“Yep,” she said nervously as she softly kneaded one palm with the fingers of her other hand. “Wally was a jerk…again.”
“Twice in one week?” Barrett asked, frowning. “You didn’t punch him, did you?”
“Dad!” she gasped, mortified he had brought that up. “That was only the once.”
A spluttered laugh had her peek at Curtis. He was trying to control his amusement, but wasn’t doing it very well. “You’ve punched him in the past?” he asked, his eyes twinkling.
“Oh, geez!” she moaned expressively. “It was his fault.”
“I’m sure it was,” he said with a chuckle. “Oh, and speaking of the offensive Wally…” He put two fingers into the pocket of his jeans and came out with three bills. “These are for you.” Holding them out, he watched her as she slowly reached forward and took them. Three dollars. Confused, she raised an eyebrow. “Your change from leaving so fast the other day. He told me then that he would make sure you received it. After his actions today, I didn’t believe him and requested the money to give to you myself.”
“Oh, thanks.” Deeka had practically forgotten the change she was due. DeLynn was right. Curtis was definitely a knight.
The air felt a little awkward and thankfully he changed the subject. “What is that wonderful scent?” he asked after a moment.
“Either my meatloaf or Deeka’s dessert,” Barrett said, still looking at the two of them slightly oddly. “Deek, wanna go set the table out back?”
Nodding, she escaped into the kitchen. Gathering the plates, glasses, and cutlery allowed her to keep her mind on something besides the gorgeous man currently seated in their living room. After grabbing three placemats, she went outside to their picnic-style table and set their places. Bringing out a pitcher of water as she hadn’t thought to make anything else to drink, she hedged on what she should do.
When her father sent her to do something like this, it usually meant he wanted her out of the way so he could talk. Oh, no. Was he already talking to Curtis about her? Gulping, she felt her palms grow a little clammy. What if he said no? He would probably stare with pity all night at the gawky girl with the crush. What if he said yes? Would this become a courting dinner?
All at once, her stomach began to churn even as sweat trickled down her neck. Wiping it off with a napkin, she decided to open their umbrella just in case the other two didn’t want to sit in the sun. Once it was open and shading the table, she tapped her fingertips on the pockets of her shorts as she shifted her weight from foot to foot.
This wasn’t even a courting dinner and she was as nervous as it was possible to be. If she ever had an actual dinner, she just might throw up. Crawling over the bench, she sat down and put her elbows on the table, leaning her chin on her palms. This courting thing may be more difficult than she thought. When it was the ideal, it was wonderful to dream of. Courting dinners and princes bringing gifts. Then once she turned eighteen, it became the reality of nobody being around that she was interested in. But now? Now it was nerve-wracking and impossible to wrap her mind around.
Why didn’t anyone discuss how difficult courting
actually was?
The sound of Curtis’s wheelchair on linoleum and her father’s footsteps warned her before they reached the door to the back porch. She sat up and gazed off at the woods surrounding their house, hoping she looked like your average bored teenage girl, not one who was currently freaking out.
“Of course, Steppings didn’t think so,” her father said as he stepped out onto the deck.
“What does Steppings know?” Curtis retorted. “The man thinks the president should be able to do anything he wants without reprisal. He’s an idiot. Unfortunately a rich, high-placed idiot.”
Snorting, Barrett nodded and looked up. “We’re discussing his book Renegade which will be out next year. I’ve been pre-reading it and giving him my input.”
“Is this another Avrahm novel?” she asked.
“No. The eleventh Avrahm novel won’t be out for two years. I needed a break from the good detective,” he admitted. “This one is all about intrigue in Washington, D.C.”
“And the FBI,” her father grunted. “Which is why I’m pre-reading it. He wants my gut reaction.”
“That and to needle you a bit,” Curtis agreed with a grin. “Pulling out all the inconsistencies of your organization has been quite interesting.”
“So, what happened between you and Wren?” Barrett asked.
Grimacing, Curtis shrugged as he reached for the pitcher of water and poured himself a glass. “Incompatible belief systems. Plus, it seems I was holding her back.”
“How?” her father barked in surprise. “You go everywhere and do everything. What’s to hold back?”
Tapping his chair, Curtis shrugged. “Some people can’t deal with the chair and what it says.”
“She’s stupider than Steppings,” Barrett grunted.
Deeka’s eyes went back and forth between them. In some ways it felt like watching a tennis match. It was obvious the two knew one another well and as she didn’t know what to say, it was easier to watch than to participate.
Shrugging, Curtis turned back to her. “So, the leprechaun. You didn’t tell me who you wanted to win?”
Relieved, as this was a safe subject, she cocked her head, thinking about it. “Of course I want Avrahm to win as this is his case, but…I rather like the leprechaun. He’s kind of like a twisted Robin Hood.”