Page 29 of Boston
“No, ma’am,” he said, really bringing out the cowboy drawl. “Just you.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, but Boston cleared his throat and quickly looked away. He stepped back, suddenly acutely aware of how they stood out in the open and anyone—including her momma—could see them.
He couldn’t actually smell anything, but he said, “Something smells great.”
Cora turned and went back up the steps. “Remember I told you I’m only decent in the kitchen.”
He followed. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
She opened the screen door and then the heavy wooden door that he’d polished on Wednesday night and gestured for him to enter the cabin first.
His idea to have Harry, Belle, Joey, and Adam come help Cora unpack and clean her cabin had achieved several things at the same time. One, she did get to meet some of his very large, loud, boisterous family in a smaller group before she came to cousin night. And two, Boston had been able to see and be inside her house before this date.
“Those pillows look great,” he said, turning back to her. “Did you get a car and go to town?”
“I borrowed Kat’s,” she said. “Aren’t they awesome?”
The cabin had come furnished with furniture that Cora had described as “bland and beige.” She definitely liked more colorthan that, and she’d told him she would zhuzh up the living room with pillows and throw blankets.
She’d done exactly that with the bright pink, orange, and teal pillows that now sat on her couch. The ribbed texture practically begged Boston to touch it, and he moved over and ran his hand along the orange one.
“Oh, they’re so soft,” he said.
Cora smiled her way into the kitchen, where she had spoken true—she was ready to feed him. A slow cooker sat on the counter, along with two plates, utensils, two casserole pans, and a great big bowl in red and white stripes.
Boston glanced over to the corner table that he and Adam had unearthed from Cora’s office boxes. Those now sat in the second bedroom, which she planned to use as a home office. They hadn’t unpacked those, as Cora said they weren’t immediately necessary, and she could do it herself.
Today, a vase of fresh flowers stood there—again with only orange and pink blooms—and two places had been set with napkins and cups.
Boston joined her in the kitchen as she lifted the lid on the slow cooker. “This is pork roast,” she said. “I’ve got barbecue sauce here, and you can make a sandwich out of it if you want, or you can just eat it as is.”
She gestured to the first casserole pan. “These are my grandmother’s cheesy potatoes. Nothing frozen or freeze-dried here.”
Boston smiled at the crisp, browned cornflake crumble on top.
“This is a layered salad,” she said, indicating the second casserole dish. “Also a recipe of my grandmother’s.”
Boston looked at a creamy white topping spread from edge to edge and corner to corner, sealing the salad underneath.Shredded cheese had been sprinkled on top, and Boston had no idea what he’d find when he cut into it.
“And then, don’t laugh at this one,” she said. “It’s kind of a dessert, but you can eat it with your meal. I usually eat it first.”
She put both hands around the girth of the red and white bowl. “It’s Cookie Monster salad.”
“Acookiesalad?” Boston asked. “I think you’ve just sold me on eating salad.”
Cora laughed and reached into the bowl and lifted something out. Pinched between her thumb and forefinger, she now held a miniature chocolate-striped cookie covered in whipped cream. She popped it in her mouth and moaned. “Oh, yeah. I’m definitely eating this first.”
Boston laughed, picked up one of the plates, and started to put roast on it. Cora picked up the squat spatula next to the salad and cut straight down in and over to make a square. She managed to get that out and into a bowl, and Boston saw iceberg lettuce layered with green peas, tomatoes, broccoli and cauliflower florets, and cubed chicken. The white dressing sure seemed like sour cream, and it stuck on the top with the cheese over that.
“There’s croutons too,” she said. “This salad dressing is a little weird, but I think you’ll love it.”
“Is it sour cream?” he asked.
He had told her in one of their nightly texts before he’d gone hunting that he loved sour cream.
“It’s got sour cream, yes, and mayo,” she said. “With a little bit of sugar. It’s amazing.”
She put another square in a second bowl and took the plate that he gave her with roast and potatoes on it. She added more Cookie Monster salad to a second bowl and then took everything over to the table.
