She reached up and flipped off the flame underneath the gravy. “You really should have the most authentic poutine when you try it for the first time, but this will have to do.”
“I think it’s incredible already,” Tarr said. “My mouth is watering.”
She looked up at him, expecting to find his gaze locked on the beef gravy she had made. Instead, he watched her, and warmth started in Briar’s stomach and spread up into her face.
“We’ll go sit down at the table,” she said. “I’ve got everything set.” She’d been back at the mansion cutting French fries, frying them, and decorating the table for his birthday for the past hour.
“Oh-my-lanta.” Surprise flowed in every syllable Tarr spoke. “Briar, you didn’t have to do all this.”
“I know,” she said. “But it’s your birthday, Tarr.”
“I’m thirty-three,” he said. “Not five.”
“I think birthdays should be even more celebrated as an adult,” she said. “Because you made it through another year, and that’s an amazing accomplishment.” She picked up the pan of gravy and turned with it to the island, where she had already laid out a trivet. She put the pan there and then reached for the big metal pail she’d bought in the gardening aisle at the grocery store.
Thegardeningaisle.
“One of my favorite shops is in a little town called Drumheller,” she said. “It’s a couple of hours from Calgary, and you drive out through all these hoodoos and amazing land formations, and it’s this tiny hole-in-the-wall place.” She dumped the fries unceremoniously into the metal bucket. “They serve their poutine like this, and it’s family-style—you just go all in.”
She cut open the bag of cheese curds and sprinkled them over the fries, using her fingers to nudge a few out of the way so the cheese got all the way down into the pail.
She glanced over to the dining room table when she realized that Tarr had not responded. He stood there, staring at the blue cloth she’d spread over Tuck and Bobbie Jo’s table. Her helium balloon display had been delivered mere moments after she’d returned from her farm chores.
The bouquet lifted into the air from the center of the table, and she’d ordered tan, white, and navy blue regular balloons, some that hadHappy Birthdayprinted all over them in a fun, cartoony font.
Then she’d added two mylar balloons in the shape of threes, since he was thirty-three years old today, and one galloping horse who wore a navy-and-white bandana and tied the entire thing together. All the strings attached to a balloon weight with white confetti spilling out the top.
Next to that, Briar had managed to wrap her grocery-store gift and set it on the table, along with two plates, two forks, and a big roll of paper towels.
“Do you want to watch the magic?” she asked.
Tarr turned toward her, a semi-blank look on his face, as if he’d forgotten she was there. He stepped closer and stood on the opposite side of the island from her, with the big metal bucket of almost-finished poutine between them.
“So, it’s fries,” she said. “And you want them to be crispy, though I kind of like it when the gravy softens them up.” She smiled, her nerves on high alert. She loved poutine, and she loved Canada, and for some reason, she wanted Tarr to as well. “And then there’s cheese curds. The fries start to melt them a little bit, but the gravy is the real magic.”
She lifted the pan, gripping it tight due to the weight. “And then you pour the gravy in.” She did that, the chunks of shredded beef falling with the brown gravy, and she swirled and twirled it over all the fries and cheese curds.
Steam lifted up and painted her soul with a smile. It showed on her face as she quickly scraped out the last drops of gravy and turned to set the pan in the sink. When she faced Tarr again, she gestured to the pail. “And then you eat.”
“It’s like meat and potatoes and gravy all in one thing,” he said.
“Right. It’s incredible.” She reached for the handle and lifted the bucket. “You can’t grab the bucket by the sides, because it’ll be hot.”
“Does everyone serve their poutine in a bucket?” Tarr followed her over to the table, where Briar hefted the poutine pail in the center and then went around to the far side of the table, with the windows at her back.
“I just told you,” she said. “This is how they do it at my favorite place in Drumheller.”
“Oh, right. I heard that.”
She nodded to his chair, and he sat down hastily, as if he’d forgotten how to do some things.
“You’re acting weird,” she said.
“No one’s celebrated my birthday like this in ten years,” he said, and he pinned her with that dark-eyed gaze that left her feeling naked and vulnerable, like he could see more than she wanted him to.
“Birthdays are a big deal to me,” she said simply.
“I’m making a note of that,” Tarr said. “You said yours was in March?”
