Bound to the Cowboy: A Small Town Off-Limits Romance by Farrah Jane & Isla Wilder

Author:Farrah Jane & Isla Wilder [Jane, Farrah & Wilder, Isla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ASHWING PRESS
Published: 2023-07-24T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Carter

Kenny insisted that his random collection of vegetables was ‘northwestern style’ (whatever that meant), but I think we all knew he was really cooking for the pig. At least his mashed potatoes were civilized. The four of us sat around the kitchen table, eating off china I hadn’t seen since early childhood. Allie had turned on lights everywhere, though the sun was not quite down, so the kitchen was bathed in amber light that complemented the purple of the sky out the kitchen window.

The dirty red checkered tablecloth was gone, replaced by Mom’s old linen placemats in Apache patterns. Dad loaded one massive ribeye onto each plate with a long barbecue fork, followed by Kenny spooning vegetables and potatoes alongside it.

I thought I’d hate admitting that Allie had been right. I thought it would feel like a defeat. But this... this was warmth and light. I remembered this—not the details of the scene, for they were all different, anyway. I remembered warmth and light. And the way she’d found the plates, as though by instinct...

What had been lively conversation all but died as we dug into our food. The only sound was the clink of silverware—and Kenny’s ridiculous pig, scarfing down steamed vegetables.

“Where did you learn to cook steaks like this?” Allie said, covering her half-full mouth. Dad smiled, both preening and embarrassed, and dabbed at his mouth with the napkin from his lap before he spoke.

“Right there,” he said, inclining his head towards the stove.

“Trust me, they were not this good ten years ago,” Kenny said darkly. He was absolutely right. Dad may have mastered the art of the perfect steak, but Kenny and I had to eat all of his practice runs.

Kenny sipped his Stella from its frosted glass—he was always conscientious about glassware—and dabbed primly at his mouth with his napkin.

“It almost feels like,” he began, still holding the beer glass out in front of him, like he was giving a toast. But he stopped short, and I saw pain in his expression. I knew what he’d been about to say. Like Mom is alive again.

I saw Allie watching his face. I wondered if she also sensed what was supposed to come next. Dad was quietly cringing in his subtle way, the troubled crease between his brows furrowing a micrometer deeper than before.

“... like?” Allie said, trying to tease the answer out of Kenny.

“Like we’re a family again,” Kenny said. If there was one thing you could rely on Kenny for, it was being quick on his feet.

Allie smiled, while Dad and I looked at nothing. I think everyone, except perhaps Allie, was anxious for a new subject.

“When you wanna tell Royce?” I asked Dad. My voice sounded too loud. I thought I caught Allie flinching at the sound of my voice, and I wished I could suck the words back and try them again, try sounding like a normal person... but why do I care what some therapist thinks?

Some therapist who’s about to leave us, anyway.

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