Playing with Words (Boggy Creek Valley #2) - Kelly Elliott Page 0,28

“Not in this house. If you want to heat something fast, you’ll need to use that.”

Following my gaze, he asked, “What is it? It looks like a mini oven.”

“It’s like a small oven, yes. You can bake, air fry, toast, heat things. It’s a godsend.”

Hudson studied it for a moment before he looked back at what I was mixing in the bowl. “Greer, you don’t have to make all this for me, you know.”

I shrugged one shoulder. “I know. I love to cook, but I never get the chance to make anything for anyone else. Besides, I’m only making a few things. Since you have bread, you can make chicken salad sandwiches.”

At that moment, his stomach growled. “Oh my gosh, we never ate dinner!” I said.

“No worries, I’ve got us covered.”

He opened the freezer and took out a frozen pizza I had forgotten he snuck into the cart. “How about I try out this fancy, oversized toaster oven.”

“It’s not a toaster oven. It can do more than toast. You can even bake a cake in it.”

“Cake?” Hudson asked, his eyes wide. I ignored the way my lower stomach tightened. Lord, the man was adorable when he was kidding around.

“Yep.”

“Shit, I didn’t buy any cake. Why didn’t I at least buy any chocolate? Oh, that’s right, you were micromanaging everything I put in my cart.”

I leaned back against the counter, my mouth dropping open in surprise. “I beg your pardon. I was doing no such thing.”

Hudson let out a bark of laughter. “I tried to add beef jerky, and you took it out.”

I huffed, took the hamburger meat off the stove, and drained the fat before pouring it into a bowl. “’Cause it’s beef jerky! Do you know how processed that stuff is? It’s terrible for you.”

“Do you know how damn good it is, Greer?” He tilted his head as if daring me to say I’d never had jerky before. The corners of his mouth twitched with a hidden smile, and I felt my heart squeeze a bit.

“I’ll have you know, I love jerky. My father and brother have some of their deer meat made into jerky each year. But they do it themselves, so it’s not loaded down with crap. It’s amazing.”

His eyes widened and a look of longing came over his face. “I love deer jerky.”

I smiled and started to make the layers of the lasagna.

“Have you always liked to cook?” Hudson jumped off the counter and walked over to where I was standing. The kitchen was small enough as it was, but to feel him so close did something strange to me. It made me long for something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“For as long as I can remember,” I said. “My grandmother used to pull up a chair from her table and have me stand on it and let me help her. She loved to cook and worked in a restaurant in Boston for years before she met my grandfather.”

“Is your family from Boston?”

“No, Boggy Creek. My grandfather was on his way home after serving in the Army in World War II. He stopped in at a little diner in Boston where my grandmother worked before he made the last leg home to Boggy Creek. His grandfather settled in the valley when he was only twenty. Anyway, even though she loved cooking, my grandmother mainly waited tables. Granddaddy came in and was seated at one of her tables, and he said it was love at first sight. He asked her what she was doing after work, and she replied that she was going to a movie with him. And, as they say, the rest is history. They got married three months later.”

Hudson smiled as he popped a grape into his mouth. “I love that story.”

I nodded and got back to layering the lasagna. “Yeah, they loved each other very much. After my grandmother passed away, my grandfather died about a month later. He told me his heart hurt because he missed her so much. He died of a heart attack.”

A frown appeared between Hudson’s dark eyes. “My grandfather died of a heart attack too. It nearly destroyed my father. They were very close.”

“Are you close with your parents?”

A brightness filled his eyes. “I am. Although, the last few years I haven’t seen them as much as I would like. They live in Boston pretty much full time, except for when they travel for my dad’s job. I don’t think my father will ever give up