Page 234 of Spicy Ever After
Now, all the theory and practice and statistics and strategies actually mean something.
I want more of this.
But not tonight.
I’m hungry. Right the hell now.
And it’s all I can do not to just slam my laptop shut and wordlessly end the FaceTime call as soon as Beck takes the steaming tureen of gumbo from the microwave.
But I manage to find my manners and thank Grif and Kennedy for their input and support, say goodnight, and let Beck and Pop do the same.
Then I slam my laptop shut and dive into Beck’s gumbo.
“Holy Baby Jesus!” It's the best chicken and sausage gumbo I’ve ever tasted. Maybe it’s because I’m so hungry. Maybe it’s because I didn't have to wait ages from noticing that I was hungry to actually sating said hunger.
But, no, it’s not just that.
The rich, savory roux is just the right consistency. Dark, but not greasy. The chicken is so tender, it falls apart under my spoon. The andouille is spicy and herby and diced into small chunks that don’t hog the stage.
It’s perfection in a bowl.
I would know because I polish off two of them.
When I get up from the table to help Beck clean the kitchen, I groan. “My butt is sore from sitting here all day!”
Both Olivier men laugh.
I scowl.
“We’ll take a walk after we do the dishes,” Beck promises, swatting me lightly on my behind.
And even though I’m tired, a walk around the farm sounds pretty nice.
A few minutes later, we step outside. The screen door creaks closed behind us. And Beck takes my hand and leads me down the porch steps into the clear, crisp December night.
The sky is inky and sprinkled with stars. I tilt my head back, take in the endlessness, inhale the farm’s earthy aroma, and sigh in contentment.
I really love it here.
We’re a good ways from the house before Beck speaks.
“I think you gave my dad one of the best days he’s had in a long time.”
I snap my gaze back to him. “What are you talking about?”
One side of his mouth tips up and he squeezes my hand. “Asking him to help you with all of that.”
“I-I couldn’t have done it without him,” I blurt honestly.
His smile now is full-grown. “I know. And he knew too. I think he felt useful. Needed.” He tilts his head down, moving a little closer to me. “You couldn’t tell how happy he seemed?”
My brows draw together. “I think your dad is always happy… ish,” I say with a shrug. “I mean, he’s grumpy and gruff, but he’s funny and… he makes me feel welcome.”
Beck lifts a brow. “I think that has everything to do with you and how much he likes having you around… That makes two of us.”
Now I smile up at him. “I like being around. I like being here. It feels…” I hesitate just for a moment and then go for it. “It feels more like home than my actual home.”
Beck raises a hand to my face and drags his thumb down my cheek. His other arm wraps low around my back. “Hattie, with you here, it feels more like home than it has in years.” And then he tugs me to him until our mouths collide.
