Christmas at the Café: A Holiday Romance (Silver Creek Christmas Book 2) by Emily Childs

Author:Emily Childs [Childs, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Victorious
Published: 2021-10-29T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter eleven

Chase

Chili. That’s my big cooking debut for Jeri.

I tried pasta. It didn’t work. Next, a chicken idea, but when the recipe insisted one wrong move would cause it to go dry, I didn’t risk it. But chili and cornbread—I can handle that. A staple in the winter at the Thorn house.

I scoop a bite, and my shoulders slump.

It’s missing something. With a glance at my phone, I weigh my options. This’ll be weird, as in I’ve never done it, but desperate times call for a bit of the unusual.

I will impress a chef with dinner. No pressure.

Swallowing a bit of pride, I do what any man needs to do when he’s trying to impress a woman. I call my mom.

She answers after three rings. “Chase. Hi.”

Huh, she sounds excited. My mother wasn’t a bad mother at all, simply hands off in some ways. Not overly emotional. The let-you-do-you kind of mom. Our whole family was that way. We were cared for, loved, but none of us ever really dug into each other’s business.

“Hey, Mom,” I say, stirring the pot and squeezing the phone between my shoulder and cheek. “How are things going?”

“Oh, fine. Your Dad is never going to retire, and I’m considering a poodle.”

I chuckle. “You know, I begged for a dog basically until I was eighteen. It’ll be a little unfair if you get one now.”

“You are thirty-five and could get your own dog. How is life in the frigid wasteland?”

I laugh at that. Mom always struggled when we came out here to visit Grandpa if the visit landed outside June or July.

“It’s going well. Different than L.A., for sure.”

“Understatement.”

“My deep, dark secret was found out a little while ago.”

“Oh.” She draws it out. “And? Are mothers looking at you like you’re insane for writing what you do and protecting their children? Or are the fan lines out the door?”

“Neither. Turns out small town people don’t really care what you do as long as you’re not a jerk neighbor.”

“Well, good,” she says. “I haven’t heard from you for a little while. Not that we’ve ever been much of a call-you-up family, but I actually was thinking of you and planning to call you on Sunday. Looks like we’re on the same wavelength.”

“Great minds, right? I, uh, I did call for a reason.” I shift on my feet. This will be weird if she asks too many details, but again—impress a chef. “I’m making your chili and I’m missing the kick you always had. It tastes like beans and tomatoes.”

She pauses long enough I check to make sure I didn’t lose our connection.

Then she laughs. “I think I’ve finally arrived as a mother. All the ladies at the gym tease about how their grown children call for food and house advice more than they ever talked to them as teenagers.”

“I’ve officially evolved as a grownup then.”

She chuckles and takes a deep breath. “I always added smoked paprika and turmeric powder to mine. And make sure you have the right amount of red pepper flakes.

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