Page 55 of Mistlefoe
“Don’t worry, I have a backup plan,” I say.
“Oh yeah?” She lifts her face up to mine and our noses brush.
I can’t move, not even to breathe deeper. If I do, I’m going to lean down and taste the lip she’s biting right now.
I swallow hard and my voice sounds alien to me as I speak. “Gramps makes a mean casserole.”
Something bright and lovely flashes in her eyes right before she elbows me in the ribs. “Be serious.”
“Oh, I’m dead serious. It’s to die for.” Like the feeling of her body against mine right now.
“Alright, here we have assorted samples,” a different voice comes from nearby.
Turning away from Sierra feels like the same physical effort it takes to lift up an entire car with my own hands alone, but somehow I manage.
The owner of the catering service stands before us, lowering a tray twice as large as the table. “To the left, we have the savory options. Cheese and bacon dipped pretzels, pigs in a blanket with Italian sausage and flaky pastry, and three different types of mini quiches ranging from vegan to vegetarian and carnivore.”
My stomach grumbles loud enough to echo around the locale. Sierra stuffs her fist against her mouth, probably to stop herself from laughing.
Chuckling, the man continues. “And to the right, we have the sweet samples. Two options of churros, sugar and gingerbread, with hot chocolate. Vegan S’mores with our homemadegingersnap cookies. And finally, a black forest gateau with black cherry compote.”
Sierra offers him a delighted smile. “If everything tastes half as delicious as it looks, this is going to be a success already.”
“Excellent, please enjoy.” He offers us two tiny forks. “I have to prepare for another tasting that is happening any minute now, but please do let me know if you have notes on any of the items.”
“Thank you,” she says.
Before either of them are done with the conversation, I attack the mini quiches. I don’t know what combination of flavors it is that I just put in my mouth, but they hit me with a wave of pleasure and relief that my whole body vibrates with a groan. Sierra stiffens beside me and the caterer chokes.
Fire consumes my face. “Sorry. This is delicious and I’m hungry.”
“Well.” He coughs into his hand. “I’m glad you—” The rest of his sentence dies off as the entrance door bell goes off. “Oh, if you’ll excuse me.”
“Oh my gosh, Conor. I told you to stop that,” Sierra hisses the words in a low tone after he leaves.
“I dare you not to moan once you try these things,” I say back.
Harrumphing, she pinches the twin mini quiche to the one I just gobbled up and gives it a try. She places a hand against her lips as she chews, slowly turning to me. “Oh.”
“See? It’s not my fault. These are damn amazing.” I grab the pig in a blanket and before eating it, say, “Do you think they’ll give us seconds if we ask?”
“If not, you can just eat more of your Gramps’ casserole.”
“I’m starting to change my mind. I don’t know if it’s really that great anymore compared to this.”
She backhands me in the middle of my chest. “Don’t be mean.”
“It’s just my stomach speaking.”
Sierra smiles up at me as she chews, her cheeks rosy and I don’t know if it’s from the amusement, the amazing finger food, or the proximity to me. I hope the latter factors in at least a little.
“Sierra Fernandez? Is that you?”
We both turn to the voice of a stranger, and I feel Sierra take in a sharp breath that paralyzes her. I stay put in the act of taking a loaded piece of pretzel to my guzzler.
A blonde woman stands before us dressed in designer clothes I’m familiar with—expensive and tight. They were the kind of stuff I used to regularly gift to my ex for her birthday or anniversaries. It’s like this woman goes to the same stylist, too, because her makeup, the artificial wave to her hair, and even the waft of perfume scream Nikki-look-alike.
There’s a man next to her too, one of those corporate types who look bored being anywhere but outside of their office. I only know they’re together because he keeps one hand attached to the blonde, while scrolling through his phone with the other one.
