4
528 Words
4“Walt, can you put another plate together?”
“Sure. Coming right up.”
Becca turned toward the tall man who had driven her from the airport. He had a thick head of graying hair and light-blue eyes. His jeans and flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves were topped with a white apron. He flipped a blue dish towel over his shoulder and smiled as he moved, a slight hitch in his gait. Then he pushed through a set of swinging double doors and disappeared.
“Walt, he's, well…” Gaby thought for a moment. “He does just about everything around here. And this is Noah.”
Becca faced another tall man, this one smiled at her kindly, as well. He stood by a table, the remnants of what appeared to be cherry cobbler on the plate before him.
“Nice to meet you.” He held out his hand as he approached.
Here was another man in jeans and cowboy boots, but this one was much younger. Mid-thirties, perhaps. A hint of gray highlighted his dark hair, which was squashed down in certain spots from wearing a hat. He wore a black T-shirt and a grey zip-up that bore an Adidas emblem.
“Noah Tanner.” His hand was warm and calloused. He focused directly on Becca. Bright flecks of gold glittered in his eyes.
She couldn't resist the urge to turn her damaged face away. “Becca Quinn.” She pulled her hand from his and looked at the floor.
“Hope you're hungry,” Walt called as he pushed through the kitchen's double doors.
Becca was ushered to the table, where Noah pulled out a chair. Gaby produced utensils wrapped in a cloth napkin. Walt ceremoniously placed before her a massive platter of smoked beef ribs, crispy hand-cut fries, and a thick slab of warm cornbread under a slice of golden yellow butter. Becca was reminded of the everyone-moving-at-the same-time pit stops at a NASCAR race.
“We have three kinds of sauce. Hot, hotter, and hottest.” Walt waited for her decision.
“Just bring all three,” Gaby said as she lugged another chair to the table. “Do you want wine or beer?”
“Let me get that, Gaby.” Noah moved to her side.
“Don't treat me like I'm a weak old woman.” She stared at him.
“No, ma'am. Of course not!” Noah burst out laughing, and Gaby joined him.
Becca stared at her plate for a few moments, then reached for a napkin. She nibbled at the ribs, which were spiced and juicy, then took a bite of the hot cornbread and butter. She almost swooned as she lifted the napkin to her lips and wiped away the crumbs. “That's delicious.”
“Tell Walt.” Gaby nodded as he walked through the kitchen's double doors holding a small basket that held a collection of hot sauces.
“Tell Walt what?” He placed the container on the table.
“You made the bread?” Becca stared up at him.
“Why do you sound so surprised?” He smiled. “It's just cornbread. Not horribly difficult in the bread department. Hell, old cowboys used to make it in cast-iron skillets on the campfire.”
“I don't know any men who can cook.” Her stomach rumbled, and she lifted another rib.
“Well, now you do.” Walt sat and sipped a beer from the bottle.
Becca tucked into the meal and didn't notice Noah watching her intently.
- Writer
