Read Online Over the Fence by Melanie Moreland - Free Book Online Page B

“You mentioned once you liked red wine. I thought you’d enjoy a glass with your steak.”
    She seemed surprised. “You remembered that?”
    I wanted to tell her I remembered everything she had ever said. However, I knew better than to be too forthcoming. “Yeah,” was my simple reply.
    For a minute there was silence. I heard her climb another step, allowing her to reach for the glass. I glimpsed the pale skin of her forearm and saw her hand wrap around the glass before disappearing back over the fence. I heard a relieved sigh and I knew she was off the ladder. “Safe now?” I teased as I reached for my plate. “Back on solid ground?”
    “Yeah. Thanks, Nat. I appreciate the wine.”
    I surveyed my heaping plate in anticipation. Then I frowned. “Kourtney?”
    “Hmm?”
    “Why do I have two steaks? One of those was for you.”
    “It’s only one and a half. They’re huge—I’d never be able to eat more than half. Somehow I knew you would have no problem with the added portion.”
    “You don’t eat enough.”
    She snorted. “I eat plenty, Tomcat. Not everyone is a bottomless pit like you.”
    I carried my plate to the table and dug in, closing my eyes as the first bite hit my taste buds. “It isn’t possible to eat enough of this deliciousness.”
    “Enjoy your dinner.”
    “No doubt of that, thank you.” I took another huge bite and ate steadily, enjoying every morsel. Damn it, my girl could cook. I wondered what Kourtney would think if she knew I now thought of her as my girl. I decided to keep that little bit of information to myself for the time being.
    “How’s the wine?”
    “It’s lovely. You chose well.”
    “It’s my favorite,” I stated, without thinking. “My mom used to drink it, too.”
    “Oh.”
    “Otherwise, to be honest, I don’t know much about wine. I know one good red and one good white. She always said I should know that in order to impress a date.”
    “Sounds like a smart woman.”
    I sighed. “I thought so.”
    Kourtney was quiet for a moment. “Is your mom not . . . here . . . anymore?” she asked hesitantly.
    I shut my eyes as the sudden pain seared in my chest. I had to swallow several times before I could answer her, and even then I could only tell her the partial truth.
    “No. I have no family.”
    “Oh, Nathan, I’m sorry.”
    I looked toward the fence. She sounded sad. Almost as if she was crying again, like the day I bought her the lilies.
    Wanting to lighten the moment, I chuckled. “She would have loved you. She was never able to get me to eat vegetables on a regular basis. Or even on an irregular basis.”
    “Why do you eat them for me?”
    I looked down at my almost empty plate, mystified. I had no idea.
    “Maybe because you made them, Chefgirl? Because you share your company and food with me every day—it seems rude not to.” I thought for a second. “Besides, you make them taste real good. She always cooked the living shit out of them. Not sure there was much nutrition value left when she was done.” I sighed as a small reminiscent smile crossed my face. “But man, could she cook a mean pot roast.”
    Kourtney laughed and I was pleased to hear the sound. I didn’t want her sad. I finished my dinner in silence, savoring each mouthful.
    “What about you, Kourtney? You said you cooked for your dad and brother after your mom died. Did they eat their vegetables like good boys?” I teased, in hopes of discovering something about her. “They must have loved having you cook for them. Lucky bastards.”
    Kourtney was quiet for a moment. “They ate what I cooked, but I don’t think they saw it quite like that.”
    I snorted. “How could they not?”
    “I never . . .”
    “Never what?”
    “I never did much right in their eyes. I wasn’t the daughter or the sister they wanted. I never measured up. No matter how well I cooked.”
    The pain in her voice was so prevalent; I turned in the direction of her sad tone, my body itching to find a way