Read The All You Can Dream Buffet Online
Authors: Barbara O'Neal
The All You Can Dream Buffet (21 page)
Time expanded, stretched, somehow turned upside down. As her chest touched his, as their arms locked around each
other, she closed her eyes and turned her head so that she could press her cheek into his shoulder. His body was both harder and softer than she had expected—a little soft in the middle, very strong in the shoulders and arms, and she let herself really feel that, feel the body of a man against her own body. Her skin rippled faintly, up and down, and she caught another flash of memory, of him turning her away from him so he could take off her shirt and wash her back, protecting her privacy as much as possible. She thought of his hands on her skin and shuddered faintly. He held her closer, making a low sound in his chest.
But it was the scent of him that was her undoing. He smelled of himself, of man and bacon and the sugary essence of cake baking, and it cut through every inhibition she carried, as if it were a magic spell, as if he could change her just by being so close. His hand moved on her back, and Ginny raised her head, not letting him go. He looked down into her face, and she saw that he was not young, that there was loose skin around his jaw, those deep creases beside his eyes. Yet as he bent to kiss her, she could only think he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.
His lips touched hers and her knees literally went weak, buckling her closer to him. It was gentle, his mouth full and exploratory against her own. Only lips. Lips touching, pressing close, releasing, a series of small, then longer kisses. His hands moved on her back, and she found herself arching, wanting to rub her body back and forth across his.
His hands made their way into her hair, and she tipped her head backward into the clasp of his palms. “You smell like peaches,” he said gruffly, and kissed her for real.
For real.
At the touch of his tongue, Ginny’s body burst into flames
and she could see the fire points: blazing nipples burning away her shirt, fire shooting from between her legs, melting her jeans, her fingertips burning away his clothes, searching for his skin, his bare skin, his—
She broke away. “I—uh—” She put her flaming fingers to her blazing mouth. Licking her tongue over her blistered lips, she took a step back, shaking her head. “I’m not that person. I’m sorry.”
“Ginny—”
Shaking her head, she turned away, pulling Willow along. She felt the truth blazing down her spine, and some part of her—the biggest part of her, if she was truthful—wanted him to come after her, put his hands on her again, take away her clothes, and…
Dizzy with desire, she yanked open the car door and let Willow back in. The dog gave a soft whine, looking over her shoulder, but Ginny couldn’t allow herself that last glimpse, lest she turn to salt like Lot’s wife or, worse, a whore flinging herself at him, begging for just one night.
She closed the door and put her head on the steering wheel, breathing deeply to bring her soul back from wherever it had gone. The smell of him lingered on her palms, maybe in her clothes, and she couldn’t stop trembling.
After a minute, she heard his rig fire up and the gears moving. It eased past her, but she didn’t look up until the sound of it had gone so far down the road that she couldn’t hear it anymore.
Only then did she take a deep breath of relief, start the car, and get on the highway herself. After a few miles she even turned on the CD player, realizing that she’d forgotten to pick up the book he promised to lend her.
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: checking in from Missoula, MT
I have had the weirdest twenty-four hours! Detour for a fire, food poisoning, ghostly visitations (not kidding!), help from strangers.
I am posting this from an Internet café in Missoula, Montana, and the place is grimy and filled with kids with backpacks who haven’t bathed, so I’m not going into detail. Just wanted to let you know that my phone is dead and I can’t get on the Internet without it, so don’t worry. I had a nasty case of food poisoning, and I’m a little on the peaked side, so probably won’t get there until morning.
Weird, weird stuff has happened. Good and weird, and weird and not so great, and just plain weird weird. Can’t wait to tell you. Can’t wait to SEE you all!
Will one of you go by the blog and post something? I’ve been trying and trying to get on and I can’t access it. It’s Wordpress—ginnycake and pwd frosting.
Love,
Ginny
FROM: [email protected]
TO: [email protected], [email protected]
SUBJECT: DON’T SPOIL THE SURPRISE!!!
Lavender and Ruby—don’t let Ginny know I got here. I want to surprise her!!!
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: re: checking in from Missoula, MT
Thank goodness you’re okay! It’s not like you to be out of touch.
All is well with Hannah and me, except she’s turning into a Lakota Indian and will run away from home when she turns sixteen to go on the powwow circuit.
Wish I could be there with all of you.
Valerie
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: re: checking in from Missoula, MT
Ginny! Ghostly visitations??? I cannot wait to hear about that.
We are eagerly awaiting your heralded arrival,
ma cherie.
They are building the dancing stage for Sunday night’s festivities and stringing little tiny white lights, and we’re all praying there will be no rain, only a big full blue moon.
The lavender is astonishing, Ginny-girl. You’re going to have a field day (snort!) shooting it. I keep imagining you up to your ears in it, shooting, shooting, shooting. I was going to snap a pic on my cell phone for you, but that would spoil the stunning surprise of it!
Hurry, hurry, hurry. (But also be careful!)
Love,
Ruby
FROM: [email protected]
SUBJECT: arrival
We have your parking spot swept and ready for you. We can’t wait to see you and Willow, and Coco, the trailer!
Sounds like you found adventure, just as you hoped.
xoxo
Lavender
The Flavor of a Blue Moon
a blog about great food…
A rainy day here at Lavender Honey Farms. We all want to be outside, dancing in the sunshine with the bees and the scent of lavender in the air like the promise of happiness and calm, but we are stuck indoors. Knitting, reading, looking up appropriate goddesses for one another. (It would spoil the surprise to tell you who is who, but check back Monday for a full report on our Blue Moon Festival, also known as Lavender’s birthday.)
This kind of weather always makes me want comfort food. Lots of omnivores think that comfort food and veganism are incompatible terms, but here is a dish you could happily serve to any meat eater, and (shhh!) they’ll never know the difference.
KINDLY SHEPHERD’S PIE
Serves 4 generously
Olive oil, 2 T, plus 1 T
2 ribs celery, 1 monster onion, 2–3 carrots, all diced
5 cloves garlic, smashed, peeled, roughly chopped
1 medium parsnip, diced (optional. Some people don’t like the sweetness of this vegetable, but I really, really do)
1 cup fresh or frozen peas
1 T tomato paste
1 qt. high-quality vegetable broth
1 bottle heavy red wine, such as zinfandel (the deeper the body, the better)
2 T tamari
Splash of Worcestershire sauce (be sure it doesn’t have anchovies)
1 T fresh thyme
1 cup porcini mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
1 cup button mushrooms, cleaned and sliced
2 cups ground-meat substitute, such as Quorn or MorningStar Farms crumbles
4 large red potatoes, peeled and diced (or, for a more rustic dish, leave the skins on)
½ cup margarine
½ cup soy or coconut milk
Salt and pepper to taste
Prepare all vegetables except potatoes and have them ready. In a Dutch oven or heavy, large saucepan, heat 2 T olive oil (or more—this is not a high-fat dish, so using 3–4 T would not be amiss). Add onions, garlic, celery, carrots, parsnip, and cook over medium heat until softened. Add tomato paste and stir into vegetables.
Open the wine. Pour one generous glass for yourself, then pour the rest in the pan.
Add vegetable broth, spices, and tamari, and bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer until liquid is reduced by at least half.
Meanwhile, peel (or don’t) the potatoes, cut into chunks, and cover with water.
Bring to a boil, then slightly lower heat. Simmer until potatoes are tender.
Taste broth, correct seasonings. Add peas and mushrooms, and ground-meat substitute if you are using it, and let simmer on low heat while potatoes cook.
Heat oven to 400 degrees.
When potatoes are tender, drain the water and add margarine. Mash or whip until the potatoes are smooth, then add milk to make a slightly soft mash.
Taste the stew. Liquid should be thick and velvety, with a rich, deep taste. If it needs more flavor, add salt or a little more tamari, or one cube of veggie bouillon. If it is not thick enough, remove some liquid from the pan, stir together with two tablespoons of flour until very smooth, then add back into the stew and let thicken.
When the stew is right, pour it into a 10-inch glass pie pan or cast-iron skillet and top with mashed potatoes until it is covered completely. Using a spoon or fork, make peaks in the potatoes so they will get brown and beautiful in the oven.