“Meat?” Dan’s question made me choke on my tea and I realized that I was leering at him again.
“Excuse me?” I asked after I cleared my throat.
“Meat? Do you eat meat?” He pointed his knife at the cutting board. There were a few cuts of what looked like chicken that had been sliced with precision.
“Yes, I do. I’m trying to cut down on red meat, but I’d never pass up an opportunity for burgers or ribs. I tried going vegan a couple of years ago, and it lasted the entire summer until my family reunion…” A nervous chuckle bubbled past my lips and my voice trailed off when Dan turned around to meet my eye. “My… um… father’s side of the family.” I wasn’t sure why I’d answered his yes-or-no question with a diatribe. If I had to guess, I would say I was nervous. I was still trying to wrap my head around my unexpected inheritance and my even more unexpected attraction to Dan. If I was acting strangely, he didn’t seem to notice or mind because he turned back to his cutting board and the rhythmic chopping resumed.
“Well, technically I’m a vegetarian, but I’ve been known to sneakthe odd piece of poultry or fish.” He turned to me and held up a small piece of the white meat he was chopping before dropping it back onto the cutting board, giving me a small, mischievous smile. “Don’t tell my mum.”
“If I ever meet your mother, your secret’s safe with me.” Our eyes met and his smile faltered momentarily, making me wonder what he was thinking. Before I got the chance to ask, he grabbed the teapot from the counter and refilled my cup.
“So, how long have you worked here… on the farm?” I asked to break the tension in the kitchen—and possibly to stop staring at Dan’s ass while something delicious sizzled in a frying pan.
“About two years.”
“How did you meet my grandparents?”
“It’s actually a funny story,” he called over his shoulder. “One day, I was walking around a large plant nursery in Bennett.”
“Bennett?”
“It’s a really small town about forty-five minutes west of here. Known for its plants.” He turned to look at me; once I nodded, he returned to cooking. “So I’m there walking around, and some random bloke asks me a question about orchids. Now, I didn’t work there, and I could’ve given him the mickey about assuming I did, but I happen to love talking about flowers.” He let out an endearing chuckle and I forced myself to take a sip of my tea and focus on his story.
“So after I got through with him, another person asked me a question about fertilizer, then someone else needed help, and before I knew it, I had a queue of people.”
“So you just posted up in a random garden store and started answering questions?” I smiled and raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“It wasn’t deliberate, mind you, but yeah. Plants, especially flowers, are my first love, and since I left my job in the UK, it had been a while since…” He drifted off and his smile faded. “Anyway, George and Harriet were there. We got to chatting, and your grandfather offered me a job with room and board. He said he ‘had a good feeling about me.’” His impression of my grandfather’s deep timbre gave me chills despite it being so long since I’d heard his voice. “So here I am. I oversee all farm operations, but Ernesto takes care of the animals. I’m mostly a plant guy.”
Did he just say room and board?
“You live here? On the farm?” I don’t know why I was so scandalized by the prospect. It made sense. There was a lot of land. Something about the thought of this man living somewhere in close proximity made me uneasy.
“Yeah,” he answered with a sarcastic laugh. “Makes the commute to work a lot easier.”
“So why did you leave the UK?” I asked to change the subject. A heavy silence hung between us in the kitchen, broken by Dan setting a plate in front of me.
“I just needed a change.” He released a heavy sigh before turning to leave the kitchen, making me wonder if I’d said the wrong thing. “There’s a linen closet, should you need any toiletries.”
“Wait. You didn’t make yourself any food. Aren’t you hungry?”
He shook his head in response. The playful, comfortable mood we’d slipped into disappeared, as if Dan and I had been in a bubble that was suddenly popped.
“You’re leaving?” I spluttered. I didn’t exactly want him to stay—well, not for any reason that made sense—but the idea of being left alone in the house made me nervous, like I was trespassing.
“Yeah.” It was all he said before he pulled the kitchen door closed behind him.
I wasn’t sure if it was because I was starving or if I was just remembering Dan’s sexy dinner shimmy, but this was the best food I’d ever eaten.
Dan had made what would be considered by most to be a simple meal of a grilled cheese-and-chicken sandwich with potato chips. Except that the sandwich was comprised of two thick slices of what tasted like homemade bread, at least three different kinds of cheese that I could taste, and thinly sliced chicken, fried in just the right amount of butter… a lot. I could tell the potato chips were also homemade—meaning that instead of simply opening a bag of potato chips from the store, he had taken an actual potato, sliced it paper-thin, and deep-fried the pieces before sprinkling them with salt. He also made me a fresh pot of that delicious tea.
I was glad Dan wasn’t here to see the way I demolished that sandwich and those chips. My lap was covered in crumbs, and I had melted butter dripping down the front of my dress. The eating noises that I made could only be described as moans. Halfway through my meal, I had to unzip my dress because the tailoring didn’t allow for pleasure eating. This was a three-bites-of-salad-in-between-laughing-at-your-boyfriend’s-terrible-jokes dress. I actually couldn’t remember the last time I enjoyed food like this. I sat for a long time after I was finished, letting my food settle, sipping the best tea I’d ever had, and absentmindedly picking the crumbs off my plate.
I decided that if I ever saw Dan again, I would mention that he was right about the tea.
The house was eerily quiet, and I welcomed it. This was the first moment of peace I’d had since I woke up this morning. As I made my way to the stairs to go to bed, I passed what looked like a small office. I recognized this place, too. This was my grandfather’s study. Just like the kitchen, it seemed tiny compared to my memories. One wall was lined with bookshelves filled with books on farming, medicine, and a myriad of other subjects. On one shelf I found my grandfather’s old chess set. I slid it into my arms and walked over to his large oak desk to set it down. After opening it, I began to pull out the pieces and I was hit with another flashback.
I was sitting on my grandfather’s lap at this desk in front of this exact chess set. My legs were dangling off his large thighs, and I could smell his spicy cologne. Annie was standing on the other side of the desk, peering intently at the chessboard. Our grandfather was giving us a lesson.
