Cass:But it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with how badly I’m wanting potatoes.
Red:Great, I’ll make you dinner tomorrow
Cass:Can’t, I’m at the bar. Feel free to drop off a baked potato, though. Just don’t come in with it on your dick or something.
Red:I’ll save that idea for another day.
Red:Sunday? For dinner… not dick potato. Unless you change your mind and want it served like that.
Cass:Dinner, sure. Dick potato, NO.
Potatoes, I can do. Potatoes are easy. Nearly impossible to fuck up. Work for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Pair well with nearly everything.
That’s my in.
“You know this is absolutely insane, right?” Denny peers over my shoulder as I’m hunched over the quartz island, peeling what may be my thousandth potato. You could tell me I’ve peeled and diced that many, and I would believe it. I’ve lost count, but my hands hurt and there’s so much potato starch built up under my nails I could likely starch a couple pairs of blue jeans.
“Shut up, it’s sweet.” Cecily walks past to get to the coffeemaker, flicking the back of Denny’s head on the way.Yup, she was a good addition to the family.It’s like she was reading my mind with that move.
“Thank you,Filly.” I smile at her. “And fuck you, Denny. I told her I’d make dinner, and she texted me last night to say bring potatoes or die. Also, there may have been some texts over the last few days aboutotherthings involving them. So I’m making the damn potatoes.”
“Christ, you two are into some fucked up shit.” Denny cocks an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin with potatoes in the bedroom. Then again, I also wouldn’t bang a girl on her ex-boyfriend’s car for revenge.”
“You absolutely would,” Austin retorts, without looking up from his magazine.
“Okay.” Denny shrugs his shoulders with a devilish grin. “You’re not wrong. But this other kinky stuff? Not for me.”
“You’re setting the bar too high, too early, Red. Driving over thirty kilometres multiple times per week to bring her candy and food, after spending fourteen hours on horseback. Now you’re making her this gourmet meal.” Jackson plunks down into his chair with a loud exhale. “You’re screwing all of us. Next guy with a pregnant wife around here is going to have ahardtime keeping up.”
Denny makes a discreet whipping noise, dodging Cecily by slipping around to the other side of the island with a chuckle.
The peeler lands in the kitchen sink with a clang, and everybody’s eyes are on me. I can sense it—they’re waiting anxiously to see if I’ll fly off the handle. But I’m not even mad. Today, the snide comments hurt, but tell me I’m doing somethingright.
“That’s the difference, man.” I rinse the potato starch from my hands. “She’s not my wife. Not my girlfriend. Hell, until a couple of weeks ago, she wouldn’t even say we were friends. If she wanted to, she could cut me out entirely. She could leave me off the goddamn birth certificate. The only way I’d get to be involved at all is by fighting with her in court. Making four different potato dishes in an effort to keep her happy isway fucking easier.”
Well, I ruined the mood in a different way. And now, instead of looking at me with contempt, they’re staring at me like I’m something to feel sad for.Great.I massage my temple and lean against the counter. The surface is cool, and the chill permeating through my shirt helps ease my somersaulting stomach.
“You don’t genuinely think she would do that… do you?” Cecily asks.
Austin, Jackson, and Denny sit there watching me in silent horror. To be fair, we talk every day but we never reallytalk. I definitely haven’t said anything to them about this shit, even though it’s been weighing on me for weeks.
“How the fuck should I know? I’ve known her practically my entire life, but I don’tknowher. Not well enough to know what she’ll do if I screw this up. So, yeah, I offered her dinner and she agreed. I’m gonna do a good job—definitely not going to take it for granted. That’s all there is to it, and you guys can make fun of me all you want about it.”
I don’t know if Cecily is kicking Austin under the table or if she’s done some serious witchcraft on him recently, but he clears his throat and speaks up before anybody else. “You’re doing a good job, man. She’s going to see that. Don’t let these assholes convince you otherwise.”
Beryl, the ranch’s main kitchen employee—and pseudo mother to us all—strolls into the kitchen and immediately gets to work helping me. Thank God because I can barely feel my fingertips and I’m not even halfway through.
Before long, it’s only Beryl, Cecily, and me standing around the huge island, quietly peeling, slicing, and dicing potatoes. Normally, my day off wouldn’t be spent in the kitchen with the ladies. Shooting guns, drinkingbeer, rodeoing, 4X4ing my shitty pick-up, or catching up on sleep are how I tend to enjoy my free time. With all of that bound to change in a few months, I’m thinking of today as a practice round. To determine if I can survive a work week without doing anything to blow off steam.
Standing with our shoulders nearly touching, Beryl holds a potato in one hand and slices perfect thin wafers for the scalloped potatoes. Something I would’ve absolutely fucked up, if left to do it alone. I watch intently—feels like this is a skill I should master. If this dinner works, I’ll cook potatoes every day for the rest of time. Doubt Beryl will want to be my permanent slicer.
“You better bring this girl by sometime, honey. She must be pretty special for you to do all of this.” Beryl missed my entire speech earlier, and I’m not giving it again.
“No, no. Thebabyis very demanding. That’s who this is all for.”
Cecily chuckles. “Nothing at all to do with having a crush on the pretty blonde, eh?”
“Nope, because I’m not risking fucking this up by thinking with thewrong head. We’re only friends, nothing more.”
