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It wouldn’t surprise any of them if they knew more about my background.
I am protective. Overprotective. To a fault. I will always, always, defend someone who is vulnerable, sometimes before I ask enough—or any—questions.
Just then, Bruce, the owner and chef at Perks and Rec arrives with our food. He sets a wide, deep ceramic bowl in front of me, full of savory rice, Andouille sausage, and shrimp.
The jambalaya here is perfect comfort food, filling and warming me up after hockey practice and a long day at work. I always look forward to meals here at Bruce’s.
And yet, as I take my first bite, I find myself thinking about the leftover shepherd's pie from last night that my stalker brought over.
“I need to find out who’s bringing you all that food,” Bruce says.
I sit up straighter. Did I mention the shepherd’s pie out loud?
“What? You do?” I stammer.
“She’s cutting into my bottom line.”
Oh. I chuckle. “She’s not. We cooked at home a lot even before she came along.”
Brewser lived in his one-hundred-and-three-year-old house with three wives, six kids, and five dogs over the years—not all at the same time, of course—but for the past eight years he’s been there on his own. When I first came to town, I lived here above the coffee shop in the apartment full of hand-me-down furniture from all over the community, with floral patterns everywhere and the infamous couch where someone’s husband passed away.
But after about four months, Brewser offered me the second floor of his house in exchange for my help keeping the place up and running. That includes minor repairs, sometimes major repairs, lawn care, half the groceries, and other bills. In exchange, I live there rent-free. And he makes dinner every other night.
It’s a good deal for both of us, not to mention the companionship. The seventy-nine-year-old retired physician, who has lived all of his life, except for those years spent in college and medical school, here in Rebel, Louisiana, is a funny, interesting, intelligent man whom I have grown very fond of.
And he’s a pretty damn good cook.
Plus, it’s really nice to come home after a long day to have food ready and someone across the table to chat with while I eat.
“Brewser said the chicken and noodles were pretty fucking good,” Bruce says.
I grin. “Do you even make chicken and noodles here?”
“It’s not on the menu, but of course I could make it.”
“If it’s not on the menu, she’s not really your competition.”
He points a beefy finger at me. “The next time you have a craving for chicken and noodles, you come in here and tell me.”
I just nod. I decide not to tell him that I didn’t realize I craved chicken and noodles until I tasted this woman’s.
He moves off, and Patty, never wanting to forget the thread of a piece of gossip, asks, “What else have you gotten? There’s no way that thong is the first extra thing she’s given you. You’ve been getting extra stuff all along, haven’t you?”
Beckett leans in, “Have you? Have you been holding out? You’ve been making us think this woman has been bothering you, hoping you get sick so she can stroke your head and feed you soup when all along, you’ve been getting casseroles and sexy stuff?”
I can’t help it. I laugh. “Careful,” I tell him. “You’re making it sound like if I was getting casseroles and sexy stuff I would win hands-down.”
He puts his burger down and pins me with a serious stare. “Have you? Have you gotten lasagna and body wash?”
I can’t deny that this is kind of fun.
“No, this whole thing about sending you stuff to keep at your house for when she spends the night is all your girl,” I tell him.
Apparently Beckett now has this girl’s favorite toothpaste, some hair ties, and a bag of her favorite coffee in addition to the panties and the body wash. She has been putting together a little collection of things she will need when she stays at Beckett’s house.
“However, I did get a jar of chocolate sauce. And I actually thought it was to go with the brownies until I read the note,” I admit. That was the first extra gift.
“You get dessert too?” Alex asks.
