In Shining Whatever (Three Magic Words Trilogy #2)(57)

Fancy and Theron had been attracted to each other from the night he'd stopped her for what he supposed was drunk driving, and carted her off to jail. They'd fought it tooth, nail, hair, and eyeball and then found themselves trapped in a cabin during an ice storm. It didn't end happily-ever-after then, either. They continued to declare they were unsuited for each other, even after she moved back to Florida.

"Just like I am doing right now. If this were a romance novel, the plot would be pretty blasted similar," she mumbled, as she put three cups of rice and six cups of water into a pan and set it on the stove. "She didn't have a history with Theron and she sure didn't ruin her life by pining after him for years."

"Who are you talking to?" Hart asked from the doorway.

"Myself," she said. "Try it sometime. You'll be amazed at what good company it is."

He handed her a bowl brimming with fish fillets. "How you planning on cooking those?"

"Until they're done," she said.

"Good. I hate raw fish. Sushi is not my thing," he said.

"Go sit on the porch and get out of my hair," she said. Cooking in a hot house, looking at his sexy lips, and him standing there made too much heat in one room.

"With pleasure," he said.

A movement on the door caught his eye when he sat down in his old rusty chair. He looked down to see a cockroach the size of a small mouse, crawling through a gap in the screen. If something that big could get inside, then a mosquito would have no problems at all.

"Y'all got any tools in this place? Screen has come unfastened. Won't keep out a roach, much less a 'skeeter," he yelled.

She didn't answer but slid a wooden box out the door in a few seconds. Two one-pound coffee cans were filled with used nails and screws of every description and size. There was a hammer, two screwdrivers, several pieces of screen wire, pliers, and even a crank operated drill. He set about killing the roach and fixing the screen. Then on the off chance there were other loose places, he made a careful study all around the porch, repairing as he went. The smell of frying fish wafted out the door as he worked, and his stomach growled loudly.

"How long until dinner?" he hollered.

"It'll be ready when it gets ready. You don't rush anything on a wood stove," she yelled back.

He remembered a creaky step leading up to the porch and carried his box of tools down to the culprit, repaired it, and checked each piece of wood the whole way up to the top. Maybe it would prevent Kate from falling and breaking her arm or leg.

By the time he reached the top, the aroma coming from the cooking really had his stomach grumbling. If she didn't hurry up and get it ready, he might change his mind about sushi. Or they might have to fish again in the afternoon, because he ate dinner and supper all in one meal.

Nutria didn't sound too bad, either. Did a person grill it or dig a pit and turn it on a skewer? He had plenty of time to do either.

Kate knew the fish recipe from memory but had to do some major substitutions. There was no fresh garlic, so she used garlic powder. There was plenty of pepper sauce, red wine vinegar, and soy sauce, thanks to Minnette. And the family always kept flour and cornmeal in the house. She'd never tell Hart, but various family members were always bringing their sleeping bags and coming to the place to fish. Maw Maw came at least twice a year, but they'd made her promise not to come alone anymore since the time she took a tumble down the stairs.

Kate added salt and pepper to the hot pepper sauce and poured the sauce over the fillets. Usually she'd let it marinate all night, but she didn't think Hart would wait that long. She let it soak up the sauce only as long as it took the grease to get hot in the iron skillet. When that time came, she rolled the fish in a mixture of equal parts flour and cornmeal and started frying the fillets hot and fast.

Hart had done a good job when he cut the fish up. The pieces cooked fast and uniformly. While they fried, she stirred up ajar of strawberry jam, half a cup of red wine vinegar, a tablespoon of soy sauce, and two tablespoons of horseradish into a small sauce pan, and set it on top of the stove to boil.

The rice was dry by the time she took the last of the fish from the grease. The beans were hot, and the sauce had hit a boil. So dinner and supper were both ready. As soon as the firewood burned out, the house could begin to cool down. She set a dented aluminum kettle full of water on the stove and a saucepan filled with cornmeal, sugar, and a little water.

"Hey, you want to take the card table out to the far corner of the porch? It'll be a little cooler there than in here," she said from the screen door.

He was too hungry to argue. He carried the table out and went back to help her carry the food. He met her toting out a pan of beans, and their arms brushed. Neither the heat in the house nor the boiling-hot beans could match what ignited between them. But they kept going without saying a word.

He set up the chairs, the metal one for him and the wooden one he'd repaired for her, and went back inside to help carry an enormous platter of fried fish. She had a pan of rice in one hand and a smaller one of a scrumptious-smelling stuff that he thought might be dessert.

They set the food in the middle of the table, and she took the chair nearest to the screen, hoping for a breeze.

She bowed her head. "You say grace"

He was reaching for a piece of fish, but he laid the fork down and bowed his head to give a short prayer of thanksgiving for the food.