Page 15 of Love Triangle
“Yup, he doesn’t like living in the town so he’s way out here. Lucky grump somehow ended up next to the prettiest lady in the county. Can’t believe it.”
“Just in the county? It’s not a very big county.” I raise my eyebrow and put my hand on my hip playfully.
“Well, if I told you that you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on would you have believed me? Even though it’s absolutely true?” Trig is standing only a few inches away from me now, close enough for the heat from his body to take away the last remaining chill of the morning.
“I suppose I wouldn’t have.” I lean just a little closer.
“Well then you see why I started small. I’ll start off with you believing you’re the prettiest lady in the county, then pretty soon you’ll know as well as I do that no star in space could outshine you.”
“You went from the world to all of space.”
“I told you, moving up.”
Trig steps back from me and I feel the loss of his presence like an ache. Pulling a basket off the backseat of his bicycle with an “Oof,” he holds it in front of him with both hands.
“Alright, I’m starving. Where are we headed?”
“Come on back this way!” I lead him around the side of the house and through the tall, wood gate.
As we walk through my large backyard, he’s pretty quiet. I can tell by his wide grin and sparkling eyes that he’s enjoying all the sights around him. I haven’t had much time to work back here since it was chilly when I moved in, and I haven’t even been here very long, but I’ve started planting early season crops and flowers which means there's a lot of dirt back here. Still, he looks fascinated. When we get to the tree line and start on the path toward the clearing, he finally speaks.
“I have a garden, too, but it’s not as big as yours looks like it’s going to be. Last year things didn’t turn out so great. I got a few tomatoes and some sad carrots. This year I’m going to do better though, I’m determined.” He lifts his chin and I have to giggle. Something tells me this guy has a lot of first-garden-flop type experiences, but also that he doesn’t give up. I do like a positive attitude.
“Well, we’ll see if mine turn out alright or not. I’m mostly trying for peppers this year since they've been so dang expensive at the store lately. If I succeed, I promise to make you some salsa.” This is a test. If he doesn’t love salsa there’s no way we can be together. I just love it so much.
“Ooh! I can’t wait to try your salsa. I have to warn you, though, I’m a bit of a salsa snob. It’s my favorite and I’m rather picky.” He tugs the lapel of his jacket with his free hand and shakes his head in a faux snobby manner that makes me snort. Test passed, I guess.
“Oh really? Well, I’ll try to be up to your standards then.” I tease, smiling back at him as we enter the clearing.
Earlier, I laid out a blanket for us and set out the champagne and orange juice in a bucket of ice next to the glasses. A mimosa can’t hurt today when my nerves are jangling like this. Trig sets the basket down next to the ice bucket and then takes my forearm, helping me sit down before he joins me. What a sweetie.
“Alright, let’s see what you got,” I say on a laugh as I rub my hands together.
“Ah, an impatient one,” he says as he opens the basket.
“A hungry one is more like it.”
“That I can relate to.”
First, he pulls out some plates and silverware, setting them between us. Next, he pulls out a package of chips, followed by a small mason jar of what appears to be homemade salsa.
“Are you kidding me?” I ask, my jaw dropping wide open.
“I told you, I’m a salsa snob. I make it just how I like it. You can try it now, too, tell me what you think.” He winks at me, and I can’t help but squeak out a laugh.
Next, he pulls out classic turkey sandwiches on a lovely bread that had to have been freshly baked, a zesty pasta salad with lots of fun veggies, and chocolate cake.
“I didn’t bring pie, I figured that’s your domain.”
“I appreciate it.” I laugh. I don’t wait around, just dive right into the chips and salsa. It’s fantastic. “Oh my goodness. You have a right to be stuck up. Where did you learn this?”
Ruffling his hair, he looks down shyly. “It’s not like I made the recipe up, I don’t know. Salsa is a cultural thing I’m not even a part of. Really, I’m just mixing ingredients that have been traditionally used together. I just kind of got lucky with the specific distribution of-“
“Okay, I get it, Trig.” I cut him off before he can continue to babble. I know a nervous babbler when I encounter one. “Did you make any of the rest of this?”
Taking a bite of the pasta salad, my eyes go wide. The veggies are so crisp and fresh, the pasta perfectly tender but not mushy. Everything about it is wonderful.
“All of it, yeah.” His face turns pink as he rubs the back of his neck.
