Page 17 of Love Is a War Song

At some point in the wee hours of the morning I had fallen asleep, because I was once again rudely awoken before my body was ready.

“Why will no one here let me sleep?” I groaned, sitting up with a crick in my neck and sharp pain on my side. I never wanted to sleep on the hard floor of a horse stall ever again.

“We gotta get you back to the house before anyone sees us and assumes the worst.” Lucas’s tired voice was throatier, and god dammit, sexier than his normal voice.

Sleep refused to relinquish my sight back to me, so half of the vision in my right eye was blurry, but it looked like Lucas was blushing and adamantly staring at the ground.

“You might want to fix your nightgown,” Lucas said, clearing the frog from his throat.

The left strap of my slip had fallen down and while there was no nipple visible, there was quite a lot of flesh hanging out for my liking.

“Oops.” I tried to laugh it off. It was not like I came out of the house in the middle of the night to seduce anyone here.

I hadn’t even thought twice about my pajamas.

It was hot, this was the best thing in my suitcase to keep me cool, and I threw it on.

When I left for my walk I forgot I was even wearing it.

I stood up and shook my right leg; it had fallen asleep and the tingles were painful. I limped around looking for my shoes that I had kicked off before sleeping. It was unbelievable. They were still damp.

“What time is it?” I asked Lucas, who was peeking through the window.

“A little before five.”

“You can tell that just by looking at the sky?” This was some Crocodile Dundee shit. I liked it.

“Oh yeah, the ancestors taught us way back when how to tell the hour based on the color of the clouds as they move in the predawn sky.”

I scurried to the window. “Wow, how do I do that? You know what, I think I see what you mean. That dark purple means five?” I asked, looking at the still-dark world that was slowly giving in to the day.

“No.”

“Not purple?” I squinted. “I don’t really see another color.”

“I was joking.” He nudged me with his shoulder and continued, “I’m wearing a watch. We don’t know mumbo jumbo shit. That’s lesson two. You need to be less naive when you’re around the uncles and elders. They’ll razz you to hell.”

“Oh.” I flushed with embarrassment. “I need to get back inside before Lottie is up and around. I guess I’ll see you a little later.”

Lucas nodded at me and watched as I snuck out of the barn. By the time I made it back to the house, it was still dark and quiet. On silent, hurried feet I made it safely to my room right before I heard Lottie’s bedroom door shut and her pitter-patter as she walked in the hall and past my door.

My chest heaved as I tried to gulp down breaths. I quickly changed into a floral blouse and a pair of jeans to go and make breakfast.

Biscuits and gravy was a favorite breakfast dish of mine that I rarely ordered anymore, but since I was here, I thought—fuck it—I’ll eat all the calories I want. I was bound to work it off anyway.

There was no sausage in the fridge, but there was a pound of bacon so I fried that up easily. The Better Homes and Gardens cookbook had a biscuit recipe and I did my best to follow along. I popped them in the oven to bake.

I dumped the bacon grease into a bowl and started on the gravy, sprinkling the flour to brown as the recipe said.

It turned brown really fast so I quickly poured in the milk.

I stirred it around with the bacon bits, and the milk started bubbling and frothing.

With the spatula, I tried to stir faster and pop the bigger bubbles, but nothing seemed to help.

Then the worst thing happened. Mixed with the bacon bits were now curdled clods of milk.

It was a disaster. The clock on the stove read six and the guys would be in at any moment.

It was a miracle Lottie hadn’t come to check on me.

I got a new pan out and I tried to pick out the pieces of bacon to start a new batch of gravy.

I went to the fridge, desperate to see if there was anything I could add to the gravy, and I found some lunch meat.

I wasn’t proud of it, but these people didn’t expect much from me.

I grabbed the bologna and started chopping it up to add to the pan.

A foul burning smell came from the stove—the biscuits!

I couldn’t lose them too. I threw open the oven door and mercifully they were fine.

Where was the smell coming from? I stood from my crouched position and looked at the charred pieces of milk-covered bacon on the new pan.

I’d forgotten to turn the burner down—they were completely scorched. Fuck!

I turned the burner off and sank to the floor. I needed a YouTube cooking influencer to show me the ropes.

“Smells like we’re eating charcoal for breakfast.” Lucas’s morning rumble floated to my ears. This was just great.

“Sorry. I’ll fix it. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.” I stood up and headed to the pantry for the peanut butter and bread.

“Nah, wait. We can fix this.” Lucas walked to the refrigerator and opened the freezer door and pulled out a frosty gallon Ziploc bag full of green stuff, maybe spinach. He handed it to me.

“What’s that for?” I asked.

“We’re makin’ scrambled eggs with wild onions.” He pulled out the whole carton of eggs from the fridge. “Get a bowl and whisk. Consider this lesson three, we love our wild onions.”

“They kind of look like normal green onions,” I said as I followed his instructions.

Lucas set the eggs down next to me. “Crack all of these and whisk ’em up good.” He took the bag of onions, pulled out a huge handful, and threw them in the sink, turning the faucet on and cranked to the hottest setting.

“Did Lottie pick these?”

“Me.”

“Do you grow these on the property?” I asked, cracking another egg into the bowl.

“I ain’t telling you where I get my wild onions.”

“Why is it a secret?” You would think these were a hidden clue from a National Treasure movie.

“They are getting harder and harder to find every year. This is a traditional herb. Did you keep the bacon grease?”

“It’s in that blue bowl by the sink.”

“Perfect.” He smiled at the bowl as he lifted it, engulfing the edges of the dish with one hand and taking it back to the stove.

Ding!

The egg timer went off. The biscuits were ready.

“Yay! Move over!” Oven mitts ready, I pulled out the steaming tray of biscuits and they looked perfect.

“Not bad.” Lucas looked over my shoulder.

“Was that praise, Lucas? Be careful, a girl could get used to it.” I turned around in time to meet the twinkle in his eyes and my stomach flipped.

I set the baking tray precariously on the stove, pushing the pans of ruined gravy and burnt bacon bits to the back burners.

“Here.” Lucas brushed past me and set a cooling rack on the counter next to the oven. “We need more space to cook the onions and eggs.” He then took the fucked-up pans to the sink. I’d deal with those later.

He brought the now-thawed onions and threw them into the warm bacon grease and started frying them up. He jerked his chin at me and then the pan. I got the message and reached for the spatula.

“Now you can pour in the eggs,” he said, his mouth so close to my ear it sent a shiver straight to my toes.

“Ah shit, somethin’ smells great!” Davey’s loud voice boomed through the house. I felt the lack of Lucas’s heat at my back, knowing instantly he stepped away.

The eggs cooked up in no time and it was a good thing they did, because Lottie walked in followed by Davey and Red.

Her nostrils flared twice and her eyes tracked the entire kitchen.

I saw the mess through her eyes and I shuddered.

There was flour on the floor, dirty dishes covered the entire counter surface, the pans were stacked in the sink, and it smelled like burnt milk and bacon.

But I wanted to focus on the positive—the eggs were fluffy and smelled delicious and the biscuits were the most perfect things I had ever seen. Pillsbury commercials were mediocre compared to these.

“Bon appétit!” I spread my arms out like a thrilled magician. We piled our plates with food and sat down to eat.

I waited to take a bite, excitedly watching everyone else. I had always felt proud of my work on the screen and in the studio, but this was different. The men shoveled the eggs in their mouths.

“Nothin’ on this planet better than eggs and wild onions,” Red mumbled through a full mouth.

“Could use some salt, but otherwise these are good,” Lottie said as she forked another dainty bite into her mouth.

Crap. I knew I forgot something. I didn’t season them. Oh well. I took a bite and the flavor exploded in my mouth. When Lucas threw the onions into the pan, I was worried the flavor would be too strong and overwhelming, but the taste was very mellow and delicate. I loved it.

Next up were the fluffy biscuits. I pulled the top off and slathered butter on the warm inside and took a bite, ready to savor the moment.

Instead, I spit it out and everyone followed.

“Disgusting.” Davey wiped his tongue on his napkin.

“I followed the recipe to a T. I don’t know what happened!” This breakfast was a disaster.

“It tastes like you mixed up the measurements for the salt.” Lucas coughed and chugged his water.

“I put in a tablespoon like it said,” I huffed.

“Teaspoon,” Lottie said.

I put my head in my hands. “I’m sorry, it’s early and I’m still a little tired. I must have misread it.”

“It’s okay, the eggs are great,” Red said encouragingly.

“Thanks.” I didn’t have it in me to admit that the only edible part of this meal was because of Lucas. If it had been up to me, everyone would have been eating PB&Js again.

A hand started patting my back. It made me jump in my seat. When I looked up, I saw Lottie pull her hand away.