Christmas Male by Heather MacAllister

Author:Heather MacAllister [Heather MacAllister]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459278516
Publisher: Harlequin

7

WHEN THE ALARM went off the next morning, Rusty had slept only a few hours. Between unwelcome thoughts of Trent and trying to decipher the details in the faxed pictures, she didn’t get to sleep until nearly three o’clock.

It was now five-thirty, as her alarm persisted in reminding her. Rusty batted at it and groaned. This morning she was determined to get up and fix breakfast all by herself. Last night it had seemed vitally important that she do so, if only to prove that she could, but in the predawn darkness, she was much less enthusiastic.

Rusty reached for her robe, reconsidered, dropped it back onto the chair and got dressed. There was no way her eyes would tolerate makeup just now, so she avoided looking in the mirror as she stumbled past it on the way into the cold kitchen.

A light was already on and when she looked out the back door she could see lights burning in Doc’s animal shed. He was up and she guessed he’d been up early yesterday, too, and had caught her grandmother cooking. Well, this morning he’d catch Rusty cooking.

Now, what to cook? she wondered, rubbing her arms.

Biscuits seemed to be a big hit and she’d just about gotten the hang of pancakes. That was two breads. Perhaps something from another food group.

Pulling open the refrigerator, Rusty took out buttermilk and the ham. Then she put back the ham. She was tired of ham. Besides, if she ingested any more salt, she’d stay bloated until Christmas.

Bacon. Another fatty, salty meat. Oh, well. She didn’t have to eat it. Eggs seemed to be expected, so she pulled out those, as well. Brightening, she remembered Harvey’s fruit and checked the ripening bowl. Two more pears. She decided to eat one all by herself right now.

Humming, Rusty bit into the pear and went to make coffee. While it brewed, she studied the cookbooks her grandmother had brought with her. The kitchen boasted several others, but Rusty didn’t feel experienced enough to stray from anything with which she was acquainted, no matter how superficially.

Okay, where was the biscuit recipe? Rusty flipped through the bread section. There, biscuits. And more biscuits. She turned the page. Yet more biscuits. Drop biscuits, whole wheat, rolled, buttermilk, yeast, soda and cheese. Rich biscuits, egg biscuits, sour cream biscuits, corn meal…Rusty panicked. Other than popping open a can, how was she to have known that there was more than one way to make biscuits?

Which recipe had her grandmother made? Which one should she tackle? Rusty was not about to make such a momentous decision without coffee. As soon as she could pour a cup from the still-brewing pot, she did so and took a swallow.

That was better. While the caffeine kicked in, Rusty looked up pancakes. Buttermilk, whole wheat…good grief. She knocked back the entire cup of coffee before a replacement cup had dripped into the pot.

She would make her selection logically and choose the recipe with the least ingredients.

Fortified with another cup of coffee, Rusty began assembling the ingredients for buttermilk biscuits.

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