Page 37 of Anders and the Girl Worth Fighting For
“Well, not one hundred percent sure, but pretty sure that was his truck I saw. I didn’t expect to see it here, so it only just registered that it might be his.” I turned back to the spices and started grabbing all the ones we needed for the cookies and some more common ones like garlic and black pepper so I could cook us some actual meals.
“What does he look like?” He asked. His voice was calm, but after a week of constant contact with him, I could tell he wasstressed.
“Tall and skinny. He has dark hair and is balding a bit. Otherwise, I don’t know. Average?” I really didn’t know. I guess I never really bothered to pay that much attention to what he looked like.
“I don’t see anyone like that,” Anders said and turned back to me. I could tell he never stopped looking around, though, watching everyone in the store.
“I don’t think we have to worry about my old pastor, Anders,” I said gently as I grabbed the last item we needed before heading to the checkout.
“You’re probably right,” he said with a tight smile. “He wasn’t on our list, anyway. It’s just — odd.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe, but he could be out visiting someone. The people I went to church with live all over,” I reasoned, though to convince him or myself, I wasn’t sure.
He didn’t seem convinced. That’s ok. I was glad he took my safety seriously.
When we got back to the car, the rain had eased, and the truck was gone. We loaded the groceries in the car without seeing any trace of anyone suspicious. The tension I didn’t know I held in my shoulders eased even more as we drove away. I guess it bothered me more than I realized that I saw a familiar truck.
Chapter Eighteen
So, the protection cookies use cloves, rosemary, anise, and cinnamon, and the love cookies use rosemary, sweet basil, cinnamon, and honey. Maybe it would be best to make the base dough and divide it in half and work one spell into each instead of two spells into one dough. I don’t know.”
Grace prattled on as she unpacked the shopping bags full of cooking supplies and food. I had no problem with our eating arrangement. I knew it wouldn’t be forever, but Grace had insisted that we needed to eat something other than pizza and Chinese takeout. I didn’t argue.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that this place had nothing for cooking or eating. An oversight caused by the fact that five former career marines set it up as a temporary place to hide out. We weren’t really thinking of cooking.
“Sounds good to me,” I finally replied and pulled myself together enough to remember to be a gentleman and help her with the groceries. “I’m your humble servant. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“What?” she said, her voice laced with surprise. “Oh. I didn’t think — you don’t have to help. It’s just cookies. I can do it myself.”
“Yes, I’m sure you can do a much better job of it by yourself than if I were helping, but like I said, casting a love spell soundslike fun and I’m looking forward to it.” If a little southern drawl came out, I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t from the South, but I’d been here long enough to know when to use it. Grace laughed at it and it was a balm to my soul.
“I’m sure I can do a better job by myself, but alright. If you insist,” she turned from me to put something away using a system only she knew, but I saw a small smile lighting up her face.
“So, like I was saying, there’s not much in the way of instructions about the spell part. My grandmother did a big ritualistic thing, but I think it’s ok if we do it our own way. I remember one thing she insisted on. We have to get our hands dirty. We won’t be using a spoon to mix anything. So wash up.”
She pointed to the sink and a new bottle of soap she had put there. She was like a general directing her troops into battle, and I was more than fine with following her orders. She clearly felt comfortable in the kitchen. I wondered if it was all the time with her grandma baking or if that was the only place she could escape her husband.
“I don’t remember measurements for the spices. I think we just put it in until we feel like it’s enough. There’s a lot of feeling in this process,” she said as she divided up the ingredients and lined them up all neatly on the counter.
Feeling. Great. Now I was thinking about feelings and Grace, and feeling Grace, and I was very grateful for the island between us. Grace seemed to understand the double meaning behind her words and blushed.
The need to touch her, to soak up the heat of her, overwhelmed me, and my hand twitched to reach for her. She turned before I could raise my hand too far above the counter and I let it fall to the spices in front of me. I picked one up and pretended to look through the collection.
Uncertainty stalled me, stilting my movements and makingme question my sanity. I had no problem touching her last night, but there’s a new tension between us today and I don’t want to push her too far, too fast. I could wait for her. I could. I’d wait forever. There wasn’t anyone else. There never would be again.
“We are in a wet time of the year and probably need to decrease the moisture in the cookies. This little bit of flour with a quarter cup of butter and one egg yolk just won’t be enough to bring all this together.”
I let her talk. I knew it was a cover for anxiety or nerves, but she didn’t seem like she was on the edge of anything and sometimes it was good to let complicated emotions just exist. I learned that the hard way, complete with life-changing injuries and mandatory therapy.
“Oh. Shoot. It just occurred to me that we probably need to add the spices to the dry ingredients, but then we have to divide the wet ingredients, and that doesn’t work.”
“Hey, we’ll just make two whole whatever they are called of cookies.” I came around the island then. She was on that edge I had worried about just a few minutes ago.
“Batches. They’re called batches,” she said. “I should have thought of that.”
“That’s what I’m here for. You’re the looks and the brawn and I’m the brain. Clearly.” I tried for levity. I’d noticed that if she wasn’t too far gone, I could make her laugh and bring her back.
“Yes, clearly. The well-trained marine is definitely the brains of the situation.” She had snorted when she said that. Adorable.
