Page 13 of Hutch (Minnesota Raptors #2)
“Why don’t you wrangle the guys and go get beer and soda.” Jenny is looking at me when she suggests this. “I think Daisy and I can handle the kitchen.”
“We can do that.” He salutes Jenny and collects the other four guys and they head out the door.
“Thanks.”
“You don’t look up to feeding the masses.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “We got this if you want to go to bed.”
“No, I need to eat too. Just please don’t let them crank up the music until I go upstairs. I already have a nasty headache and loud music will only make it worse.”
“I can do that. If they want entertainment, they can go to the basement and play pool or air hockey.”
It takes the guys about an hour to come back.
We were all making bets on how long they’d be gone simply because the only thing they know how to buy in a supermarket is beer.
Actual groceries? Cara came in with fifty-five minutes.
She won an immunity agreement when it came to cleaning up the kitchen.
Since I’m cooking, I get out of clean up duty.
We decided the boys could do that. They just don’t know it.
When the bags are finally put away, I send everyone out of the kitchen except for myself and Jenny.
She’s the only one who I don’t think will cut herself with a knife.
I set her to chopping vegetables while I put on the hamburger and cut up the chicken into small chunks.
A lot of people use strips, but I prefer chunks.
Once everything is seasoned, I put together my taco spice mix for the sauce.
The chicken gets tossed in a portion of it while I set the rest aside to make the sauce for the hamburger. I put both meats on to cook.
Next comes the guacamole, which is easy, and then I put together the pico de gallo and put it in the fridge to soak. The longer it’s in there the better it’ll taste. I prefer to make it the day before and let it sit overnight, but an hour or so in the fridge will do.
“Jenny, you ever blistered tortillas before?”
“No, what is that?”
“You get a pan scorching hot and put the tortilla in it, letting it crisp a little on both sides. If the stove was gas, I’d just put it down on the open flame, but since it’s an electric range, we’re working with what we have.”
“I know how to do that!” Collin hustles into the kitchen. “That’s how my abuela always made them. She had me doing it at five.”
“Then here you go.” Jenny shoves several packages of the soft tortillas at him. “I don’t want to set the smoke alarms off.”
“Might want to turn them off while we do this. It can get smokey.”
She makes a face and yells downstairs for Dylan to come turn them off.
“Don’t forget to turn them back on,” I tell her.
Once they’re busy, I turn back to the meat. I put a colander in the sink and pour the hamburger into it so it can drain the grease. The chicken goes onto a plate with a paper towel to soak up excess grease there.
“Hutch, can you shred the cheese please?” I’m tired and having to sit here and do all that is more than my mental state can handle.
“I can do that.” He looks unsure of the grater I place in his hands.
Laughing, I show him how to use it.
“This is harder than it looks,” he murmurs.
“Yup, and you have to do that for all of them.”
He shrugs and sets about grating everything and I put the hamburger back in a degreased pan with some chunky tomato sauce. I add in my spices and the veggies. Soon, the entire kitchen smells like a Mexican restaurant.
It’s not long before everything is ready and Jenny and Cara help me set it out buffet style on the dining room table. It’s not a half bad spread. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven’t really eaten in several days.
“What’s this?” Collin holds up a bowl of a slightly orangish color sauce.
“Spicy ranch sauce. I use it for the chicken tacos.”
TJ leans down and sniffs it warily. “Smells good.”
I make a noncommittal noise while the boys grab paper plates and prepare to dive in, but Hutch stops them.
“Nope. Daisy and Jenny get first dibs. They cooked it all. Don’t be greedy assholes.” He hands us each a paper plate.
“Thank you,” I mumble and make myself a taco salad with the beef taco mixture. I’m not a chicken fan, but since the guys need to eat healthy, it was a compromise.
“That’s all you want?” Hutch asks incredulously.
“Yes. My stomach is smaller than yours.”
He eyeballs my plate and makes two hard shell tacos and places them on my plate. “You might get hungry later.”
Not likely, but I don’t argue with him. He’s being really nice and he and the boys paid for the groceries.
“I’m going upstairs now. Y’all enjoy the food and clean up before you leave. Hutch, I’ll see you and Collin in class tomorrow.”
I don’t have the mental fortitude to deal with him tonight. My head is pounding, I’m hungry, and I still have a paper to work on before I can go to bed.
He looks disappointed, but he doesn’t try to convince me to hang out down here or to let him hang out with me.
For which I’m grateful.
“This shit is good!” Collin is stuffing his face as I go by him toward the door that leads to the attic.
At least one of us is happy.
I wave at everybody and go back to my solitude.