He clicked off the call and slid out of the truck. Making his way to the other side, he carefully grabbed the handles to the plastic bags with one hand. Mitzi was in the window. There always seemed to be dishes for her to wash. He wished he could have bought her a dishwasher, or at least helped out. Even one-handed, he could scrub a plate … maybe. But she’d probably roast him with a look for trying.
Snowflake came bounding out of the tree line with Billy right behind her. She wore a red towel around her neck like a superhero, and Billy had a green one. The image was so nostalgic that for a second, he thought he’d gone back in time and tripped into one of his younger brothers.
“Off to save the world?” he asked.
Billy nodded. “We have five minutes before the bomb goes off.”
Snowflake snorted, telling him the imaginary bad guys would never succeed on her watch.
He grinned and held out his arm. “Don’t stand there—go get ’em.”
They sprang into action, bolting for the barn where the bad guys were hiding. Forest chuckled. Man, he missed those days.
Knocking lightly on the door with his fist full of grocery bags, he glanced up at Mitzi. She opened the wood door. “Hurry up, you’re letting all the cold air in,” she admonished him.
“I’m a one-armed man and there’s two doors,” he complained, but with a note in his voice that told her he was teasing.
She smiled. “You seem to be doing all right for a one-armed man.” She noted the bags he carried and moved some of Billy’s coloring sheets to the side of the table so he could set them down.
He did, and then he promptly grabbed several and headed for the fridge. His hands started to sweat with worry. This was the gamble part of his visit, and he could soon be back on the road, bouncing his way down the path.
He unloaded several items without looking at her.
She appeared at his side, close enough that he could smell the pine candle that burned at the hardware store and something clean and fresh. Her shampoo? “What’s this?” she asked.
“Reindeer food.” He held up an apple and then put it on the shelf in the fridge. His mom always kept their apples in there so they bit into a cold piece of fruit in the summer. Maybe he should leave them on the counter? It wasn’t like it was hot outside. “There’s some celery, lettuce, broccoli.” And more, but he wasn’t going to continue to list the items. She could go through herself after her left. “I have a few bags of oats and hay pellets in the truck. I’ll get those to the barn.” He shoved himself deeper into the fridge so he wouldn’t have to smell her anymore. She was tempting.
“And this is all for Snowflake?” she asked from somewhere behind him.
“Yep.” He finished filling the bins. The fridge was half the size of the one on the ranch. And it was old—1965 if it was a day. A horrible avocado-green color that had only gotten worse with age. They just didn’t make ’em like they used to, he mused.
“Chicken-fried steak?” Mitzi held up the package she’d pulled out of a bag on the counter. Her eyebrow arched in disbelief.
Forest didn’t have to work too hard to muster up some chagrin. “Well, see, I’ve been camping for almost a year, and you have this really nice kitchen space. I was hoping I could make a dinner or two here while we worked.”
She snorted. “Nice try. Nice kitchen space? It’s old and worn out and you know it.”
“No. More like worn in. Think of how many kids have come to this fridge for an after-school glass of milk.” He tugged on the handle and pointed to the half gallon he’d stowed. He would bring a gallon next time if she let this slide, but he’d figured that he’d have better luck getting a smaller one in on the first try.
“My guess would be over a thousand. That thing has been around since Fred Flintstone.”
Forest grinned—and not because he was getting away with filling up her fridge and half a cupboard, but because she was cute when she wasn’t worried. He took the package of steaks from her. There were four—which meant she could take one to work for lunch tomorrow. “So do you have a pan for this, or should I start a fire in the yard and find a stick to roast it with?”
She rolled her eyes. “I’d like to see that. But since you only have one arm, you can use my oven.”
“Thanks.” This time, the smile was for the win. His chest warmed knowing he’d taken care of a meal for Mitzi and Billy. He liked that feeling—of being a provider. It felt like … well, like what he was meant to do. On top of that, Mitzi was in a good mood. She had an easy way about her, and about having him there, that he enjoyed.
He tried to open the package with one hand and ended up fumbling it. It landed on the yellow linoleum with a thud.
Mitzi laughed. “You’re one-armed and all thumbs.”
He chuckled and shrugged. “A little help?”
She sighed, a long-suffering sound. “Men!”
He grinned. “I’ll put the potatoes on.” He managed to wash them and get them in a pan that Mitzi handed him without being asked. “I like mine with the peels on.”
“We’re in Idaho. I think we have to eat the whole potato,” she replied.
