Page 22 of Bernadette
“Okay. We have a couple of minutes, and I’d like to offer you the only spare room this ranch has at this time. The compound is full, so are the campers behind the bunkhouse, but we have a spare room in the main house that you are more than welcome to use until a room comes up empty over at the compound.”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
“You won’t be,” Wyatt said, and leaned in so that only Bernie and Chuck could hear him. “Morgan and I are leaving here later to go on our honeymoon for a few days, and the house will be sitting empty while we’re gone. I would appreciate it if someone will stay to keep an eye on it.”
“If you’re comfortable with that, I can do that.”
“Thank you,” Wyatt said, and took the hand not holding the cane and gave it a gentle squeeze. He stepped back and looked at Alex, and gave him a nod. Ten minutes later the music cut off, and everyone gathered to the sides of the barn as the lead singer began with the introductions. Bernie expected it, but she jerked, and fell back into Chuck at the roar coming from the crowd. She leaned her back into his chest, and felt right about him putting his hands on her shoulders to keep her steady.
Several minutes later, Chuck turned her to face him and grinned. “I’m not trying to be coy, or a bastard, but it’s time for the family to go to the line of food. I’m part of the family,” he grinned. “So are you, because not only are you part of Boswell, but you’re also with me.”
“Okay,” Bernie laughed and tossed her long blonde hair back. “What are you trying to tell me?”
“Let’s go through the line together and I will carry your plate back here. I’ll even hold it for you so you can put what you want on it.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Good, now one question before we go through the line.”
“Which is?”
“Do you want a steak? A slab of roast beef? Prime rib?”
“What?” She interrupted him. “No roasted pork?”
“There’s that, and if you want that, do you want it in a sandwich, or just some on the plate?”
“A pile on the plate with coleslaw if you have it.”
“A woman after my own heart.” Chuck laughed, and because it felt right, he bent down and kissed the tip of her nose. When no one said a word, or yelled at them, they grinned, then it was their turn to go through the line. It turned out that Chuck held both plates, and told Bernie what to put on his, and he held hers out for her choices. As they arrived at the end, they took their meat choices and Bernie was able to grab two beers on their way back to the table. After putting the plates down, Chuck took the beers from her, and held out the chair, not settling in his own until he made sure Bernie had everything she needed.
“This is good,” Bernie said several minutes later with a forkful of pork and coleslaw halfway to her mouth. “There’s just a hint of sauce, and it has a distinctive flavor. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I like it.”
“Apple cider,” Chuck said as he leaned in to whisper. “It marries well with the apples we stuff inside before it’s roasted.”
“Well, it’s good. Do you cook it over apple wood?”
Chuck looked at her in shock, then turned to the men at the table and asked that same question.
“Holy crap,” a man said, then looked over at Bernie with a grin. “Alan, woodworker, Janice.” He clarified as he put his arm around the woman to his left. “Never thought of using apple wood for smoking the pig. We’ll have to go out riding one day and see if we can find any apple orchards that need work done.”
“Why would you do that?” Bernie frowned.
“I wouldn’t use the apple wood in my projects, but if a farmer needs to have some trees trimmed, maybe we can see if he needs some cut down and we can keep the wood for ourselves if we clean up after ourselves.”
“Oh.” Bernie didn’t know what else to say, so she left it at that. They continued eating, and when it came time for seconds, or dessert, Bernie declined. “Sorry, maybe when they have the wedding cake, but nothing for me.” At Chuck’s frown, she shook her head. “It’s not a girly figure thing, it’s a I don’t eat sweets thing.”
“Ah, I understand. There are only certain things I like.”
“Like?” Bernie didn’t really cook, she could, but she didn’t. For some reason she wanted to know more about Chuck the longer she hung around him.
“Cherry pie is my favorite.”
“It is?” Justin asked. “I thought it was apple?”
“No, that’s your favorite. I’ve always been partial to cherry pie.” Chuck grinned and leaned back to stop the woman walking by. “Mom Stuart, what’s my favorite dessert?”
“Cherry pie.” She didn’t bat an eye in her answer and continued on her way.
