Chapter 12
12
W hy had she pushed Ry Blackwood away?
Frustration filled Emerson as an image of the tall, broad-shouldered, sexy ex-serviceman filled her mind. Thoughts of the kisses they'd shared made her yearn for things she still didn't quite understand— but now knew she wanted.
No. She'd done the right thing, shutting him down, telling him it would be a waste of his time and hers. A man like Ry would never want to permanently be with someone bland and unexciting like her. He needed someone adventurous. Gorgeous. A woman who could offer him much more than dull Emerson Frost ever could. In cooking terms, he needed cayenne pepper— spicy, peppery, and pungent. She was vanilla. Plain, boring vanilla.
Besides, Emerson liked her life the way it was. She'd found her comfort zone and didn't want to stray far from it. Ry Blackwood would have pushed her way out of it. No, knock her the length of a football field. In the end of their time together, he would have grown weary of her. Or worse, been apathetic toward her. She couldn't have taken that look in his eyes. One of boredom or irritation. It was better to not start anything with him.
Yet what she wouldn't give for just one more kiss from him.
She would be seeing him tonight at Harper's. The group text had informed her that Ry was doing the cooking tonight, experimenting on them. Having tasted some of what he'd created, she knew the others were in store for a memorable meal.
He had texted her yesterday. A single line that told her he was preparing barbeque with an Asian twist, and she could plan the dessert accordingly. She'd merely replied with a thumbs up emoji, not wanting to start any kind of conversation with him.
It would be hard to see him again. She knew she couldn't shove him into a corner as she had all the other men she'd met at school or work and go about her business. A part of her would always yearn after Ry Blackwood.
And what might have been. Even if only for a short while.
Harper had asked her how things went with Ry, and Emerson had said she'd tasted his food, and he was an excellent cook. When her friend asked about the rest of the night, she'd shrugged and said there was nothing to report. She'd sampled his dishes and provided her opinion on them. She read the disappointment in Harper's eyes, but her friend hadn't forced further conversation.
How was she supposed to go to Wednesday nights from now on and be around Ry? See him. Smell him. And not want him.
Letting out an exasperated sigh, she glanced at the timer and saw it was about to sound. She switched it and the deep fryer off, lifting the basket and removing the pastries, resting them on paper towels. Emerson had made yakgwa, a Korean honey pastry, wanting her dessert to go well with the meal Ry was preparing for the group. She let the pastries cool while she mixed fresh ginger with honey syrup, pouring the combination into a squeeze bottle to be poured over the yakgwa.
Emerson went to change clothes. She slipped into a sleeveless linen blouse and white capris and then did something she never did.
Painted her toenails.
The bright red made her feel sexy, especially when she slipped her feet into a pair of sandals she'd worn only two other times. It gave her the confidence boost she needed. She brushed her teeth and applied a fresh coat of lipstick before removing her hair tie and brushing her hair. It fell just below her shoulders, thick and dark, and she decided to leave it down tonight.
No, she should put it back up. It would seem as if she were trying too hard to get Ry to notice her. Before she could place it in her usual ponytail, though, the doorbell sounded. Frowning, she set down her brush and went to the door.
Ry stood on her porch.
Emerson's breath caught. She had forgotten how attractive he was in person. He wore a dark navy T-Shirt that showed off his biceps and muscular chest. A pair of jeans that molded to his legs. On his feet were a pair of cowboy boots in rich bourbon.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her tone sharper than she wished for it to sound.
He didn't flinch, though. He merely gave her a sexy, lazy smile, one that had butterflies exploding in her belly and thoughts of his mouth on hers.
"I thought I'd drop by and give you a ride," he drawled.
"That's not necessary. I can drive myself," she said primly. "Thank you anyway."
"Come on, Emerson. You said we could be friends. Friends trade rides to places."
"If they arranged to in advance."
"Sorry I didn't text first and simply stopped by. Please. Go with me. We're going to the same place. Save the environment and some gas. Ride with me. Don't be stuck-up."
Anger flared within her. "I have never been accused of being stuck-up." She relented. "All right. But this time only."
He grinned, causing her pulse to leap. "Unless I text you and we make plans in advance to go together."
"Maybe," she said, her anger dissipating as she took in his boyish grin.
"Can I help you carry your dessert?"
"It was cooling. I need to put it into a container." She stepped aside. "You might as well come in."
"Thank you," he said graciously as he inhaled deeply. "Hmm. Gotta follow my nose."
He moved across the room and into the kitchen. "You made yakgwas!" he said excitedly.
Emerson followed. "I'm glad you recognized what they were. I wasn't sure how they were supposed to look. I haven't even tried one yet."
His eyes glinted with amusement. "Then you need an official taste tester to see if they pass muster. "May I?"
"Could I stop you?"
"Nope," he said, scooping up one and popping it into his mouth.
He closed his eyes and chewed, his satisfaction obvious.
"Can I serve them tonight?" she asked nervously.
"Absolutely. Your dough is spot on. The pastry is light and just the right color."
She indicated the squeeze bottle. "I also made a gingered honey syrup to go over them."
Ry lifted the bottle and squeezed some onto the pad of his finger. He slipped it inside his mouth. "Oh, yes. Have you tried it?"
Again, he squeezed a dab onto his finger. This time, he held it up to her lips. Their gazes locked, and she opened for him. He slid his finger into her mouth and her lips claimed it. Slowly, he pulled it out, her tongue brushing against it, causing her heart to race.
"It's… good," she managed to get out, watching him lick the finger that had just been in her mouth.
"Yes. Very good."
Emerson wanted to fling herself at him. It took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to do so.
Turning, she pulled out a plastic container. "Let me load them into this, and we can go."
"I'll help."
Ry did so, placing yakgwas into the container, their fingers brushing against one another's several times. With each contact, her head grew lighter.
"Don't faint," she murmured under her breath.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing."
She washed her hands when the last pastry had been placed into the container and then placed the lid atop it, sealing it.
"Don't forget the honey," he reminded, and Emerson picked up the bottle.
She locked up, and they started down the sidewalk, to a black truck she'd never seen before.
"New?" she asked.
"Brand new," he replied. "Got a great deal from a dealership in Boerne. Guy I went to high school with owns it. He was two years ahead of me. Played running back. The truck was used as a demo for people to drive to see if they liked the make and model. It's got a couple of thousand miles on it, but it's the current year. Next year's models will be in soon, which really decreases the value of this one."
"It's nice," she said. "I know you were eager to get something of your own."
"I put a healthy down payment on it. Will have it paid off in only a couple of years."
Ry started the truck and put it into gear. "Ready for more of my barbeque?"
"Definitely," she answered honestly. "I've never eaten such tender barbeque before. Have you met with your dad? Will you be starting work soon?"
"Yes. I'm going to handle all the catering for Harper's events," he told her, clearly excited by this prospect. "Dad and Mom have been run pretty ragged by all the extra business those weddings have brought in. He's pleased to get it, but it's spread him pretty thin."
"Will you also take over meeting with the clients?"
He thought a moment. "We didn't actually talk about that, but it would make sense."
"I meet with them once they have a set date at the venue. I have a tab on The Bake House's website. Ivy set it up for me. I walk them through it, showing them different choices of cakes and discussing the variety of flavors and types of icing. I have them decide on several to try, and we schedule a cake tasting. I'm not sure what Shy does."
"I could present whatever menu he gives me— but I also plan to add to it. My spin on different dishes."
"Oh, Ry, that would be terrific. Brides are always look for something new and creative to set their weddings apart. While I know a lot of them will prefer to go for traditional Texas barbeque, I think you'll have your fair share wanting to try something new and different. Congratulations!"
He shrugged. "Dad doesn't know that I want to offer more than what's on the Blackwood menu. I'm testing some things out on the group tonight to see if any of what I prepared might be good for wedding receptions."
"Anything you prepared for me the other night would work," she told him. "And I can't wait to see what you've brought tonight."
"Some of the same, along with a few other selections."
"Like?" she pressed.
"You'll have to wait and see, Miss… " He paused. "I don't even know your last name, Emerson."
"It's Frost."
He glanced at her— and burst out laughing. She was used to it and let him enjoy the moment.
"Frost. And you frost cakes. Oh, that's too much." He flicked his eyes from the road to her. "But I like it."
They arrived at the Clarks' house, and she brought in her dessert. Ry made one trip and then claimed Holden, who helped him make another three.
"What all did you bring?" Braden asked. "Is this going to be a six-course meal?"
"No," Ry replied. "I brought a little of a lot of things. You people tonight are true guinea pigs."
Ry had them gather around the island as he opened lids to two different slow cookers, three instant pots, and one pressure cooker. He also removed foil from several 9x13 containers.
"I want to tell you what everything is and have you sample small portions of it," he explained. "Then you can fill your plates with what you liked, including some sides. Hopefully, as we eat, you can give me your feedback on what you like and why and what isn't working for you."
He walked them through what he'd brought. They included the items Emerson had tasted Friday night, but Ry had also included new things, such as some interesting side dishes.
"Everything smells heavenly," Finley declared. "I'm going to want recipes, Ry."
"Not a problem. You've all eaten barbeque before. Lots of it. What I've brought tonight is an Asian take on barbeque. Most of it is Korean, since I was stationed in South Korea for three years, but I've also added a little Japanese and Thai into the mix. The biggest difference between Texan and Asian barbeque is in preparation. Here, we throw big slabs of beef, pork, and chicken into smokers and using indirect heat, letting it cook for ten to twelve hours.
"Korean cuisine, as far as barbeque is concerned, utilizes razor-thin cuts of meat or bite-sized pieces. It means cooking time is minimized, but you still get the tender, flavorful tastes. They often eat meat placed on red leaf lettuce, wrapping the lettuce around the meat and turning it into a burrito. Let's try some of the galbi first. These are super-tender beef short ribs."
He spooned up small bites and passed plates around, with Ivy exclaiming, "Oh, I wasn't expecting it to be sweet and savory."
"That's big in Korean barbeque, combining those two flavors." He glanced to Emerson. "I'm even thinking about teaming up with Emerson and getting her to make some plain pastries for me that I could place barbequed meats inside."
"That would rock," Dax said.
She tried not to show her surprise. Actually, it was a great idea.
They sampled bites of spiced chicken thighs, marinated steak and pork, and beef and pork kebabs.
"I don't think I've eaten barbeque this tender," Harper said. "These kebabs are fabulous."
"Do you think something like this might go over with your clients?" asked Ry.
"Yes!" Harper exclaimed. "Blackwood BBQ is always great, but if you could offer even three or four of these dishes, I know they would be a huge hit at weddings."
"I'm going to be taking over the catering end of Blackwood BBQ," Ry announced. "As far as I can tell, looking at the calendar, the events at the winery are the only things Dad is catering right now. Does he have couples do a tasting with him, as Emerson does with cakes?"
Harper shook her head. "No. I merely give them a menu, and they decide which items to offer. Most go with a two-meat plate and two sides. Brisket and pork or brisket and sausage seem to be the biggest crowd pleasers."
"We still need to try some of those things," Holden pointed out.
Ry glanced to where Holden looked. "Oh, the banchan. Sides," he added. "They can really round out a meal."
They sampled sigumchi namul, a seasoned spinach, and bibimbap, which was mixed rice with vegetables. Emerson's favorite was the japchae, a stir-fried glass noodle dish.
"This cucumber salad has a real kick to it," Braden said. "I like that a lot."
"That's the red chili pepper flakes that bring the heat," Ry explained.
By the time the group had sampled everything that Ry had brought, they were chatting enthusiastically, filling their plates with the new dishes.
Emerson stepped close to him. "This group has tried a lot of different foods, thanks to Braden and Finley, but you've added a new dimension to things. I think you're going to make a big splash when you take over the catering of the winery's events."
Ry locked gazes with her. "I'm going to need some help. With Mom and Dad sitting out for their much-deserved rest, it's going to be too much for me to handle." He cleared his throat. "Would you be interested in helping me plate and serve dinners at wedding receptions, Emerson?"