Beau was digging the quart jar of creole seasoning out of the cabinet where they’d hid it from folks.
Sam had to beam at him when he turned around, and Beau grinned, coming to peck a kiss on his lips. “How’s that sausage?”
“Not quite ready.” He stirred again, breathing in deep, feeling just like he was finally okay again. “Smells right though. The chicken’s next.”
“Good deal.” Beau bumped hips with him, then moved to open the jar. “We got all that good stock too.”
“We do, and the veg from Boudin’s tastes better than from anywhere else. I don’t know what the hell he does to them peppers, but it’s good.”
“Yeah. I know. I miss this shit when we’re not here, huh?”
Sam nodded, thinking how hard it had been on the road. Before. For a while. “I hear you. I—I’m pretty sure I want to be done riding. I’ll have your back, pull your rope, for sure, but…I’m not in love with it no more.”
He’d said it, he knew, but this was saying it calm, saying it without having fury.
“I know.” Beau gave him this look, this incredibly tender, understanding flash of eyes, and he wanted to just bawl from it. Beau saw him, knew what he really thought…
“Good. We’ll still go together. You need me there, I know. I need to be there for you too.” No one pulled Beau’s rope right but him.
“I need you right beside me, Poot. I need to know I got you to tell me what to do or not talk when I need quiet.”
Sam nodded. “You got it. I made my mistakes. No more. We’re together, balls to bones.”
He wasn’t a dumb man. He learned from his errors.
“I’m glad.” Beau nodded at the Dutch oven. “Time to get that out and put in the chicken.”
“You got it, Boug.” He scooped the sausage out and plopped in the chicken, listening to the sizzle. They would turn the heat down some to do the veg, then deglaze the pot and toss all the stuff back in with the stock and the rice. The shrimp would go in last for just a few minutes.
Yum.
“You want I should make some coleslaw while we’re cooking? It’ll go good.”
Sam nodded and offered Beau a smile. “I reckon it will, ‘cause I do love me some slaw.”
“Do up some cabbage while I make the dressing then?”
Sam grabbed the head of cabbage out of the fridge, and he hummed whille he shredded, loving bing right here, right now, cooking with Beau. He popped some Brown N Serve rolls in, too. If they were gonna carb it, he was going all the way.
“You want to spend the break traveling, Poot? We could go to the Bahamas, Hawaii…”
Sam thought about it for half a second before he shook his head. “No. No, I want to be home. Have a tree. Christmas with the dogs.”
“Okay. I like that too. Those puppies will be getting big and ready to go to homes.”
Sam tried not to deny that immediately. Of course there was no way they could keep them all.
But they’d keep some. Puppies were a pain in the ass, but they were proof there was a God that loved them.
“You think Granny will cook them lagniappe cookies for us?”
Beau’s eyes lit up. “And pralines. Lawd yes.”
“Good deal.” Sam did a little dance, surprised when not much hurt in the doing.
Beau grabbed Beau, and they started dancing, just cha cha cha across the old hard wood floor. They had plenty of time while shit broke down in the pot, and they ended up slow dancing, swaying together there in the kitchen, both of them singing softly.
“Mmm…You do make me happy.” His phone started ringing, and he frowned. “You think I should ought to get it, Beau?”
