Love Under Two Jessops (13 page)

Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a box of matches. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled out one stick, and struck it against the textured strip on the side of the box.

The match flared to life, burning well, the stillness of the late afternoon air a real blessing. It felt to him as if Mother Nature held her breath.
Why, it’s as if God Himself is on my side
.

He watched the match for another moment, and then dropped it into the grass. It continued to burn, the tiny flame licking the brown strands with its tiny, orange-yellow tongue. Then with a small
whoosh
, the gasoline-soaked grass burst into flame. The flame grew, became energized, as if it understood the task with which it had been charged.

Content, he set a slow pace, step by step, heading back to the road and his truck—and because he could, he dropped lit matches along the way.

* * * *

They had to make a stop at the grocery store, and since everything was so close in Lusty, the firemen followed Chloe to her house first. She parked her little car—
I really am either going to have to replace it or just leave it parked
—and then hopped into their truck. Moments later, she was inside the grocery.

“I thought I’d make cheese enchiladas for supper.” She put her hands on a cart and began to make her way through the small but well-stocked store.

“Great. We both love cheese enchiladas.” Andrew rubbed his hands together. “Especially if they’re not made with that disgusting-looking fat-free cheese they sell these days. What meat did you have in mind to serve with them?”

Meat
? Chloe had thought to serve a salad with the enchiladas, and yes, she had been planning on buying the fat-free cheese. It wasn’t all
that
disgusting.

“Um…I wasn’t going to put meat in the enchiladas. Just cheese.”

“Great, then we’ll have steak to go with them,” Grant said. “Do you have an outdoor grill?”

He picked up her hand and kissed it while Andrew ran his hand down her back. Chloe loved the way they did that, and the way the shivers their touch caused licked her everywhere.

“We could go and pick out three really good steaks, and we’ll grill them, too.” Grant’s expression matched his eager tone.

When they showed her this side of them—the excited, little-boy side of them—how could she resist them? “As a matter of fact, I do have an outdoor grill.” Gas fueled, she’d used it a total of two times since the Kendalls had delivered it and set it up the same weekend she’d moved into the house. “But do we really need meat? Enchiladas and salad make a good-sized meal. Besides, does steak really go with enchiladas?”

“Yes, we need meat. And Chloe-doe, you’ve lived in Texas all your life. You know that steak goes with
everything
.” Andrew’s smile really got to her and Chloe realized that she was in big trouble. Obviously, tonight was not going to be one of those nights when she stuck to her healthy eating resolution.

“Steak
and
enchiladas? That’s going to be kind of rich, don’t you think?” She could at least
try
to interject a bit of reason into what was shaping up to be a gargantuan feast of cholesterol on a plate.

“Yeah,” Grant sighed. “It’s going to be
great
.”

She recalled how much the men had eaten Sunday—at both breakfast and lunch—and figured they just needed a lot more fuel than she did. Her mother used to say that she’d been blessed with an “energy efficient” body.

She reached for a package of tortillas. Sliding a surreptitious look over at the men who’d wandered off toward the meat counter, she sighed and shook her head. She very nearly chose the fat-free cheese—she was getting used to it, and really, would they notice if they didn’t see the package?—but instead opted for the “lite” cheese instead. Neither of them had said anything about not selecting the lower fat option. She was ready for them if they did say something.

Out by the stream a little while ago they had made it clear in no uncertain terms that they would “take care of her” as they saw fit. She would do no less. They wanted to stand for her and slay her dragons? Then they would have to put up with her watching their diets. Mentally flipping through the rest of the contents of her fridge and cupboards, Chloe added a few more items to her shopping cart.

There may be steak
and
enchiladas on the table tonight, tempting her into gastronomic sin. But there’d be a salad there, too, so she could at least eat
something
healthy.

In a ridiculously small amount of time they were back at her house, starting in on making dinner. Chloe couldn’t say that she’d ever had the opportunity to share the kitchen with a couple of men before. She guessed her amazement showed. Grant chuckled at her then ran his finger gently down her nose.

“Most firemen know how to cook,” he said. “In some firehouses—especially in more urban areas—a man can be on duty for more than an eight-hour shift. There’s almost always a kitchen in a firehouse, too. It’s part of the tradition.”

“The duty roster would stipulate who’d be on cooking duty, and who’d be on cleanup. We’re used to pitching in,” Andrew said. “There’re even cooking competitions pitting station house against station house in the larger cities. Usually such events are used to raise money.”

“I like the part about chipping in to clean up.”

“It never made any sense to me for things to be any other way. When we were small, Mom was a stay-at-home mom, sure, but the dads still had to pitch in and help out around the house,” Andrew said.

“There were a lot of us.” Grant gave her a sideways look out of the corner of his eye. There was more than a little bit of heat in that look. “Jessops tend to have large families—just so you know.”

“From what I’ve been able to tell, the trait isn’t limited to Jessops. Kendalls and Benedicts tend to have large families, too.”

Andrew grinned. “Yeah. Some have wondered if there was something in the water that causes this phenomenon.”

“I don’t think the drinking water has anything to do with it.” Chloe was pretty darn certain that the name of the town truly said it all.

They worked together to prepare the meal, their movements choreographed as if they’d done this together a dozen times before. Chloe’s eyes did bug out when she finally got a look at the size of the steaks the men had chosen.

“Did y’all know that the recommended portion of meat for any one meal is three ounces?”

“Recommended by whom?” Andrew asked.

“Three ounces?” Grant made a face. “How the hell do you measure a cut of meat
that
small?”

Chloe grinned. “It’s about the size of a deck of playing cards.”

“Good God Almighty, do you mean to tell me there are folks going around actually counseling other folks to starve themselves to
death
?”

Grant’s outrage seemed genuine. Chloe laughed. “You wouldn’t starve to death eating just three ounces of meat per meal, Grant. You simply have to eat other things like veggies and fruits and whole grains, too.”

“That doesn’t make any sense to me at all. A deck of cards? That can’t be more than just a couple of bites.” He shook his head. “All my life, I’ve understood one thing about food. Meat is good for you. Period.” Grant bent and gave her a quick kiss. Then he headed out the back door, toward the grill.

Chloe held back her snicker. It might be fun to go online and order one of those vegan cook books—get herself armed up with a few recipes and meal plans that contained
no
meat at all.
Sort of like the dinner I was originally planning to serve tonight.

It never hurt for a woman dealing with a crafty man—or two—to have a few aces up her own sleeve, as it were.

Andrew relieved her of the skillet as soon as she’d gotten it out from under the counter. She raised one eyebrow when she realized he intended to do what she’d planned to do—gently and briefly fry up the tortillas to help bring out their flavor and to ensure easier rolling.

Chloe busied herself grating the jack cheese and then set about to prepare the sauce. She was cheating tonight, having bought a jar of mild salsa at the store instead of making her own.

She chopped an onion and set it aside, pleased moments later when Andrew, who’d finished with the tortillas, scooped the onions into the pan.

Grant came inside and set about seasoning the steaks that he’d set out on the kitchen counter. Chloe approved of the use of garlic with a bit of salt. She didn’t care for too much other stuff interfering with the flavor of good Texas beef.
Those steaks look so damn good. It’s going to be hard to eat only a little bit.

As if he could read her thoughts, Grant said, “Actually, baby girl, I have a confession to make about these steaks. Andy and I’d have gotten bigger ones, but these were the largest that Gus had on hand this late in the day.” His slight smile gave him away.

“Good. That means my leftover steak won’t go to waste, then. Y’all will likely fight over my leftovers. I like my meat medium rare,” she said, “well braised on the outside and tender and pink on the inside.”

“Now that’s good to know.” Grant raised both eyebrows suggestively, and then winked.

Chloe liked Grant’s playful side, something she’d never guessed, those first couple of months, that he even had.

It didn’t take long to put together the enchiladas. She set them in a casserole dish as she rolled them, then drizzled the sauce over top. She’d left a bit of cheese aside, and would sprinkle it over top just before they were ready.

She slipped the pan into the oven. She’d intended to toss a salad and then set the table, but Andrew beat her to both tasks.

The enchiladas didn’t take long to bake, and the steaks certainly didn’t take much time to grill. In less than twenty minutes they were sitting down to eat. Outside, the sun had set. Chloe’s house was in the middle of a block, with houses both on either side of her, and behind and in front as well. While there wasn’t any traffic to speak of, there were lights—from neighbors and from the town’s streetlights.

It certainly didn’t get dark the way it did where her sister was living, out at the Benedict II ranch. She didn’t know if she would be able to get used to so much darkness—although Carrie swore it was plenty bright when the moon was out.

She’d set a pitcher of sweet tea on the table to have with dinner. She guessed her lack of sophistication, in that she didn’t have any wine on hand, didn’t bother the men at all. They never even blinked at the beverage of choice. That was good to know, because she wasn’t really much of a drinker, most days. She liked a glass of white wine on occasion, and a beer here or there. But that was about it.

“So, Chloe-doe, you thinking about getting some stuff in here pretty soon, or what?”

“That seems to be the question on everyone’s mind, lately.” Hadn’t Jake mentioned that very thing today? “It’s all right, you know. There’s no secret agenda behind my lack of clutter. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

She figured the only reason people seemed so concerned about her lack of possessions was the consensus that it meant she wasn’t planning on sticking around.

“We never thought you were.” Grant cut into his steak and seemed to savor the first bite. Then he scooped up a generous forkful of enchilada. “God, that’s
good
. Full of cheese just the way I like them.”

There was enough of the old-fashioned girl in Chloe to feel like preening at the compliment.

As they ate, all three of them made what her momma used to call “happy tummy sounds.” Her steak was grilled just right, and she couldn’t hold back her moan as the flavor fairly exploded on her tongue.

“So how come you don’t have much stuff?” Andrew, for all his happy-go-lucky outward appearance, was turning out to be like a stubborn ol’ hound dog with a bone. “Do you have some things still in storage in Divine? We’d be happy to go with you and fetch ’em home.”

How easily he said that. She guessed that for someone who’d grown up in the bosom of this small town, it would be an easy concept.

Home
.

Chloe sighed. “No, I didn’t leave anything there. I don’t have a lot of stuff, is all, never have. I guess I never got into the habit of collecting things. I moved a fair bit, and the less stuff I had, the easier the move.”

She couldn’t explain why she felt a sense of discomfort deep inside. Grant looked like he was about to ask her another question when she was, quite literally, saved by the bell.

Or more specifically by the strains of Jim Morrison belting out “Come on baby light my fire.” In stereo.

“Really? You have the same ring tone programmed into your cell phones, and it’s
that
?”

They both reached for their phones at the same time. Grant answered his. Andrew said, “It’s for anyone calling the hotline to the firehouse. No pun intended.”

“Grant Jessop here. Hey, Artie.” He listened, his brow furrowed. “Okay, yeah, of course we can help. We’ll be there as fast as we can.”