“It’s a pretty simple machine,” Taylor tells her. “They’re hard to break.”
I watch as she plugs it in and turns it on. Sure enough, some garbled noise spews from the tinny speaker.
Taylor spins the dial and her pretty face lights up when a song emerges from the static. It’s Dean Martin crooning “I’ve Got My Love to Keep Me Warm.” She starts humming along and it’s a sweet, happy sound that makes my serious Meg smile in surprise.
Turning away, I remind myself that I’m not supposed to be noticing how cute Taylor is. I’m here to replace a window and scarf down some chicken.
It hits me that maybe if I do it in that order, I can avoid Taylor altogether.
“I’ll work on the window while you two eat,” I mutter, heading back to the truck for my stuff.
But when I come back in this time, the food is unpacked and Taylor is waving me over.
“Come and eat while it’s warm,” she tells me. “You can do the window when we’re done.”
I want to argue, but it smells so good, and both of them are looking up at me like they’ll be hurt if I don’t sit.
“Fine,” I say, lowering myself to the blanket.
Taylor passes me a plate and I pile it up with chicken, a warm biscuit, and a generous scoop of homestyle coleslaw. Meg is right, Doc Holliday’s is the best.
Meg tugs a cup out of the cardboard carrier andpasses it to Taylor. I get the second one, and she keeps the last one.
“What’s this?” Taylor asks suspiciously.
“Cherry lemonade,” Meg tells her before I can answer. “It’s really good. I promise.”
We both watch as Taylor takes a tiny sip.
“Oh, wow,” she sighs happily before taking a nice long pull.
Meg’s eyes meet mine and I can see that she thinks this is a pretty fun time.
She’s not wrong. It’s sort of nice introducing one of our favorite things to someone who’s never tried it before.
Meg grabs a drumstick and digs in. Her getting messy right away seems to break the ice enough for Taylor to follow suit.
Soon, there’s nothing but the sound of crunching and hums of appreciation accompanying the music on the radio.
I meant to just take a few bites and get to work, but the chicken really hits the spot, and the company isn’t bad either. Taylor practically bubbles over with happiness, and it must be catching because Meg looks just as pleased.
As the eating slows down, the two of them discuss the book Meg is reading, as if they know I’d rather eat and listen than join the conversation. It’s nice to hear them talk. Taylor asks Meg if she has any predictions about the story, and Meg has about a million, eventhough I’m sure she can’t be more than a few chapters in.
“Am I right?” Meg asks before finally stopping to take a breath.
“I won’t spoil it,” Taylor says firmly. “But I’m going to write down all your predictions tonight, and when you finish the book we’ll compare. How’s that?”
“Wow,” Meg says, looking sort of impressed that someone was taking her thoughts so seriously. “That would be cool.”
“Excellent,” Taylor says, grabbing another piece of chicken.
I’m glad I got the big box. I wouldn’t have guessed this city girl would be as good an eater as Meg and me, but she’s holding her own.
“You really never had Doc Holliday’s before?” Meg asks Taylor.
“No,” Taylor says after she swallows. “But you’re going to have to tell me where it is because I definitely want to have it again.”
“Where did you live before you came here?” Meg asks.
