Page 101 of Buckled in Barbwire

Pat clears his throat once the final plate is set in front of my brother. “What you have in front of you is cider-braised, slow-roasted pork. We’ve included a salad that featuresfarm-fresh ingredients. Apple, avocado, blue cheese, and radish tossed in a maple vinaigrette.”

Several looks of confusion are exchanged between us, especially from my side of the family. We’re unfamiliar with such an elaborate presentation. It sounds too fancy for us to eat, much like the three dishes before this.

Who knew caviar went into deviled eggs? Or how pumpkin complements beer cheese soup? Certainly not me. I’m still scratching my head about the hamachi crudo with pickled squash, but it sure was tasty. The confusion has been filling my belly with delicacies I can’t afford.

At least until Kate takes her turn to speak.

“You’ll notice one more item on your plate,” she announces. “As an added indulgence, and a special surprise for Mrs. Benson, we’ve included a baked five-cheese macaroni with bechamel and toasted breadcrumbs.”

I gasp and swing my gaze to Brody. “You asked them to make my favorite?”

“Even had them leave it off the menu to get this reaction.” He cups my cheek before giving the couple responsible a cool grin, which is a big gesture coming from him.

“Thank you.” My gratitude spreads my lips a bit higher.

The culinary experts bow in unison and disappear into the kitchen. Utensils instantly scrape fine china in a collective wave. Boisterous foodgasms erupt around us, but I’m distracted from digging in just yet.

Brody’s palm glides along my thigh under the table. “You’ll have to tell me if their version is better than mine.”

“That doesn’t seem like a fair comparison.” Drool is about to spill from my lips just looking at the macaroni.

He squeezes me gently, drifting higher under my dress. “Don’t worry about hurting their feelings. Chefs are used to harsh criticism.”

I laugh at this cocky cowboy. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

My adventurous spirit stabs at the salad first. It’s zesty and packs a crisp punch. The dressing is rich but subtle. This is another exquisite mix of ingredients that I wouldn’t have thought of myself. I eagerly dive in for more.

The prongs of my fork glide into the pork like it’s melted butter. Countless flavors burst across my tongue in a savory wave. I barely trap a moan, my eyes sliding shut in pleasure.

The meat is tender and cooked perfectly. Whatever seasoning they used adds more depth, not that it’s needed. My taste buds are dancing for joy.

And last, but certainly not least, I lick my lips while spearing several noodles for consumption. High expectations are stacked against this recreation of a classic, but it doesn’t disappoint. An explosion of bold goodness and comfort fills me. The cheesy blend demands appreciation. Delicious bliss spreads from my mouth and I slump against the chair with a wistful sigh.

“Careful,” my husband warns. “You’re making me jealous of what’s sliding down your throat.”

I choke on my next forkful. “It’s very thick and creamy. You should try it.”

“I’d rather watch you eat.” His voice is wolfish, jaws ready to snap me in half.

“That’s a little creepy.” But I blush and focus on my plate before bursting into flames.

Brody rushes through the process of trying a bite of each thing. “Satisfied?”

Desire pools and I gulp. “Far from it.”

His gaze is riveted on the pasta sliding past my lips. “What’s the verdict?”

“This might be the best meal I’ve ever had.” My gaze cuts to him, catching his conflicted expression. “But I prefer your recipe for the mac and cheese.”

He chuckles and our families pause their gluttony. “If you recall, there’s nothing soft about me. No need to spare my feelings.”

“Your ego might be a bit gooey ‘round the edges,” I reply. “Especially when trying to get my approval.”

His fingers roam between my thighs. “Do you need a reminder of who gets off on praise?”

I clap my knees together, trapping his attempt to rattle me. “Nope. Completely unnecessary.”

My husband sits back, his heated stare devouring me whole. His hand moves to a more respectful position considering our company. “That’s my good little wife.”

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