4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Hermie

Country music played over the hidden speakers in the common areas of the large house, and surprisingly, I didn’t hate it. I was a pop princess, so I’d never heard the songs before—my mother loved seventies and eighties pop—but I didn’t hate the music echoing through the house as I prepared the turkeys for the oven at five in the morning.

I noticed a note on top of the coffee maker, so I stepped over.

I quickly made pancake batter and let it rest on the counter by the massive range. There was a griddle in the middle of the eight-burner stovetop, an orgasmic discovery for any chef!

I had three pounds of bacon in the oven on three baking sheets to save the mess on the stove top, and I was working on slicing potatoes and onions to make three spinach frittatas for the inhabitants of the bunkhouse.

I pulled the bacon from the oven and heaped it onto a plate covered with paper towels, setting it into the warmer under the stove. The aroma of bacon made the kitchen smell so good that my stomach growled.

I ran a stick of butter over the griddle and used a scoop to make medium-sized pancakes.

It was still dark outside, and I’d never felt more peace in my life than I did in that beautiful space. There were blue pendant lights over the island and recessed lights over the rest of the room giving it a warmth that made me happy. The island was blue, but the cabinets were white with frosted glass.

I had never seen such a gorgeous kitchen in my life. It was something out of my daydreams and better stocked than most commercial kitchens I’d been in.

The back door opened and Bare came inside. “I smelled the bacon when I got to the back porch.”

I smirked. It was nice to know Bare was a morning person. I was too. As the day progressed and I grew tired, my anxiety spiked, and I was more prone to meltdowns.

“You want a cup of coffee?”

Bare nodded, so I pulled down one of the large mugs from the hooks under the cabinet and filled it with the bold roast he’d brewed earlier. I moved the sugar bowl and a carton of creamer onto the counter for him, though I didn’t remember him putting anything in his coffee at Miner’s Finer Diner.

I poured a cup for myself and sat at the counter, staring at Bare as he scrolled through his phone at the table. “I’m making breakfast for everyone. Do the folks from the bunk house eat here or do I take it down there?”

Bare chuckled. “They’ll eat wherever you want to serve them. You can also put the food on the counter and give them paper plates and they can eat anywhere they want. It’s whatever you want to do, Hermie.”

From the fridge, Bare collected a gallon of orange juice, ketchup, hot sauce, and a gallon of milk. “Where you want to set up? The girls and guys are trainable, so you show us how you want us, and we’ll know what to do every morning—except Sunday. They’re off on Sunday, so they fend for themselves. Sometimes, they make their own food down there, but that’s only if one of them isn’t too hungover to do it.”

I glanced around and decided the island was the best place to set up because the turkeys were by the large sink. “Okay, let’s set up on the island. After breakfast, I’ll get the turkeys in the ovens and make the pies. I saw canned pumpkin, which is the easiest, but I noticed a lot of apples in the pantry. Do you like apple pie?”

Bare studied me for a moment, his expression puzzled.

“What?” I reached up and touched my nose, hopefully not finding something hanging out of it.

“I hope this doesn’t come out wrong, but you seem more relaxed than last night.”

I’d had a mini meltdown when I was cleaning out the turkeys because I splashed dirty water on the floor, the counter, and myself. Bare came into the kitchen to find me on my hands and knees with a bucket and a scrub brush cleaning up the mess.

I was crying because I was so frustrated, and he made me go shower and finished the cleanup himself. I was shocked and figured he’d fire me, but he hugged me goodnight before he went upstairs. I didn’t know what to make of the man.

“I’m better in the mornings after a good night’s rest. As the day progresses, I have less patience and my uneasiness spikes. I’ll try to keep that under control.”

“Do you get overtired?” His full attention was a bit daunting. Those gorgeous eyes studied me and made my belly flutter.

“Sometimes—I guess I’m kind of like a toddler that way.”

We both laughed and worked together to get breakfast ready to serve. Bare called down to the bunkhouse, and in no time, there was a crowd in the kitchen.

Bare held up his hands, and they all got quiet. “Before we eat, this is Hermie, our new chef. Don’t be jackasses about the food or you won’t be joining us for dinner this afternoon.” He then looked at me. “What time do you want to serve?”

“Uh, is it okay if we eat at three? I’ll make some snacks and bring them down to the bunkhouse so you don’t starve. Will that be okay?” My hands shook at speaking with so many people at once. Thankfully, I wasn’t stuttering yet.

Bare put a hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Hermie. That will be great. At noon, Dirk and Jolly, come up to the house to get whatever snacks are made. You’re all off for the rest of the day, but if you’re not coming to eat with us, do Hermie the courtesy of telling him as you introduce yourselves.”

Bare grabbed a plate and began loading it, leading the line. I stayed out of the way and watched the contents of the plates and bowls to be certain there was enough for everyone.

“Brady Carlisle. Nice to meet you.” A guy not much older than me shook my hand before following Bare to the island.

“I’m Dirk Lyttle.” He shook my hand and went to the coffee pot, grabbing a mug and filling it.

“Craig Sims, and he’s Jolly Rivers. Food smells great.”

“I’m Bridget Carlisle. I run the barn office. If we need water or soda at the barn, I’ll let you know so when you go to the store, you can pick some up.”

“That’s great. Thank you.” I offered a smile.

“And if you haven’t noticed, there’s no chivalry here. I’m Tilda Hammond, the groomer. It’s nice to meet you. It’s great to see someone in the kitchen with a smile for a change.”

She was pretty with long red hair she’d braided to the side. It was a relief to see everyone was friendly, and based on the way they filled their plates, they were starving. The huge, well-stocked pantry suddenly made a lot of sense. It would be a pleasure to have so many mouths to feed.

“Oh, Hermie, Brady and I won’t be here for dinner later. We’re going to our parents’ house to schmooze with the family from out of town... though, I’d rather be here. Mom would skin us alive if we missed it, but if there are any leftovers, I’ll take them to the bunk house if you don’t mind.”

I smiled and nodded. “I’ll package them up for you.”

They all went to the dining room, joining Bare at the table, so I was able to begin the kitchen cleanup by scouring the pots and skillets. Country music continued playing, coupled with the lively chatter at the table. It was the perfect accompaniment to my great mood.

“The frittata was delicious. Do you need some help cleaning up?”

I turned to see the young woman, Tilda, open the dishwasher beside me and place her plate and utensils inside. It was sweet of her to offer, and just as I was about to say I had everything under control, Bare returned to the kitchen to refill his plate.

“Actually, Tilda, that’s a great idea. Let me finish eating, and I’ll help you so Hermie can get to work on the turkeys.” Bare winked at me, and I swooned. He was so kind I wasn’t sure how the hell I ever managed to meet someone like him.

“Did you eat anything, Hermie?” Bare asked as he added another slice of frittata to his plate. I’d been nervous about whether anyone at the ranch would like it, but there were only two slices of one frittata left, so obviously, they weren’t picky.

“I’m fine, really.” I took a sip of my coffee.

“Nonsense. Make a plate and I’ll wash the pans. I would try to help Shayna, but she wanted to play the martyr in hopes of Bare noticing her.” Tilda stuck her tongue out at Bare, who laughed.

“Yeah, she had some wild idea she and I were destined to fall in love. I don’t know where she ever got that notion.”

Tilda giggled. “Ask Bridget. I think she threw gas on Shayna’s crush fantasies, and then Brady jumped on it and said he’d caught you staring at her butt a couple of times. Those two must have tortured each other as kids.”

“Wow! Are they twins? I thought they looked alike.” Brady and Bridget had the same color hair and facial structure. They’d both been polite when they introduced themselves earlier.

I didn’t turn down their offer to help me with the breakfast dishes because I really needed to get to work on the turkeys and pies. Bare sat down at the island and finished his second plate, so I quickly plate the last piece of frittata and some bacon to join him.

“This is great, Hermie. As you can see, we all loved it.” My stomach fluttered again at Bare’s kind words.

“I’m glad. Anything special that you want on the Thanksgiving menu? I was planning to make the basics: turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, candied yams, pies. Anything I’m missing?”

“A Jell-o mold with floating fruit.” I turned to see Jolly carrying a stack of plates and utensils into the kitchen.

“J-J-Jell-o? What flavor and what fruit?” I didn’t know where I’d find some sort of mold, but if the guy wanted floating fruit, I’d give him floating fruit.

“Strawberry Jell-o with banana slices.”

Bare smirked before he glanced at me. “Shayna refused to make it for him. His grandmother made it when he was a kid.”

“You don’t have to make it fancy. I just like the taste.” Jolly put the dishes in the sink for Tilda before returning to the dining room.

“I’ll make it. Anything else?” I opened the drawer where I’d found pens and pads, pulling out one of each to make a list of dishes so I didn’t forget anything.

“I make a good broccoli-bacon salad, if you’re asking for contributions,” Tilda said from her place at the sink where she was loading the dishes Jolly had brought in.

“Okay.” I made note of her salad and walked into the dining room where the others were still sitting. “Anyone have a favorite dish they want me to make for dinner later?” I rattled off the dishes on my list, including the Jell-o mold and the broccoli salad, and I waited.

“I can make a dish to bring. I offered last year, and Miss High-and-Mighty said she didn’t want outside food being served alongside her cuisine. I didn’t think her cookin’ was all that great.” Dirk’s face showed that he’d been hurt by that comment. I could never do that to anyone.

Holidays—not my own, but some people’s—had a lot of precious memories associated with them. I’d never knowingly tarnish them for any reason.

“I’m happy to have you contribute to the shared meal. Do I have the ingredients you need? I’ll need to go to the store anyway.”

Dirk grinned. “I’ll go to the store for you. Can I look in the pantry?”

I nodded and glanced at the others, seeing Bridget and Brady quietly talking before she lifted her hand. “We won’t be here, but I was planning to make a Texas potato casserole to take to my mother’s. I can make two and contribute one for here, if you want.”

Craig stood from his chair and began collecting coffee mugs and juice glasses from the table. “I’ll go to the store with Dirk. Make us a list.”

The landline rang in the kitchen as I returned to see the island was clean and the dishwasher was running. “You folks are efficient. Tilda, do you need anything for—”

“Hang on a second.” Bare grinned at me. “It’s Lou. Their oven went out. Do you mind five more for dinner?”

I chuckled. “Not at all. Uh, we can put some folks in here at the kitchen table. I’ll set up the stove and island as a buffet. Does that make sense?”

“Yep. Reminds me of the old days when Momma used to feed a houseful. We’ll all pitch in to help ya. I appreciate this, Hermie.”

My face heated at his words. It was nice to hear someone appreciated something I’d done. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard it.

Later that night, I was emptying the dishwasher and enjoying the quiet in the kitchen after an enjoyable gathering. I glanced around the kitchen to see everything else was in its proper place and the leftovers had been taken down to the bunk house.

Everyone was stuffed, and I’d been given many hugs and thank-yous as the guests had left around seven that evening. Bare and I were alone in the house, and my nerves were starting to build.

“Man, Hermie, if I hadn’t already hired you, I’d definitely hire you after a feast like that.” Bare carried the small plates and forks I’d used to serve the pie and cake from the family room.

Anita, Lou’s wife, had brought a cinnamon pear cake she made for her family as a Thanksgiving tradition, and everyone had loved it, including me. She promised to send me the recipe, and I’d thanked her, no stuttering at all.

The kitchen had been busy with so many people pitching in to help, but for once, I didn’t freak out. Everyone was chatting about past Thanksgiving disasters, and I didn’t think I’d ever laughed so hard. The number of people who’d cooked the entrails inside the turkey was astonishing.

We didn’t celebrate holidays in my house when I was growing up because I was a handful who wouldn’t allow my mother to cook without causing problems, as I remembered her saying more than once. Crowds were hard for me back then, so Mom didn’t plan holiday parties. I guess I didn’t have to wonder why she’d packed up and left me behind.

“Whoa, now! What’s that face?” Bare put the small plates in the sink and wiped his hands on a dish towel.

Tears fell down my cheeks at those sad memories. “I-I’m s-sorry.” I reached for a paper towel to dry my eyes.

“Why don’t you go ahead and turn in. I’ll make sure everything’s ready for the morning.” Bare’s large hand gently touched my shoulder. It was very sweet.

“N-No, but th-thanks. I’m almost d-done.” I wiped my eyes and went back to drying the dishes and putting things away.

“I insist, Hermie. You’ve worked hard all day, and you need to rest. I’ll toss you over my shoulder and put you to bed if you don’t do as I ask, and I won’t hate it a bit.”

I stopped drying the water glasses and turned to look at him, seeing a stern expression I wasn’t expecting. His left eyebrow was arched, and he studied me, his eyes not leaving mine.

“I-I need to—”

What I didn’t expect was for Bare to pick me up and flop me over his shoulder. He carried me through the short hallway to the bedroom, and he gently laid me on the bed in my new room.

“You need to sleep, darlin’. I’ll finish up in the kitchen.” He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

Bare left my room and closed the door. He was right. I was exhausted, but I felt horribly guilty for allowing him to do my job. Before I could get up and go back to the kitchen, I fell sound asleep.