staples when they came to the cabin, even for a short time. Sugar, flour, shortening, salt, soda, canned milk, dry pasta, beans and rice, she’d had a list of what she considered the basic necessities.
Even though Keri depended more on frozen entrees, she’d still packed her mom’s staples. Good thing since she had an unexpected guest with a big appetite. Thoughts of him had her dumping a bag of frozen beef stew into the slow cooker for dinner. Lamanto would wake up hungry, and her cooking skills couldn’t compete with her mom’s.
She found a tissue, swiped at her eyes and blew her nose. Exhaustion had to be at the root of the melancholy, exhaustion and a return to the cabin. She’d been determined but wary of coming back. That’s why she hadn’t wanted her dad or brother to witness her return, in case she totally fell apart. She’d hoped it would be emotionally cathartic rather than devastating.
Lamanto had unwittingly eased the return. He’d kept her distracted from the heartache and loss. Not that she ever planned to admit as much to him. Nor did she want anyone to know she planned her own investigation of the accident that had cost her so much.
A glance toward the radio unit had her wondering if she should try to get a message to her dad. Part of her knew it would be the logical thing to do, but a larger part wanted to honor the promise she’d made her stowaway. He’d trusted her enough to go back to bed.
Or had he just trusted the storm would force her to keep her word? Keri supposed she could sneak in there and handcuff his good arm to the bed, but what purpose would it serve? If he hadn’t shot Don, that made him a victim rather than a criminal. Who knew?
Shaking her head, she went to the living, put a fat log on the fire and grabbed a book from another box she’d packed. She loved to read but rarely had time, so curling up on the sofa opposite the fire made perfect sense. What could be better than a good book on a stormy afternoon?
A nap? She answered her own question awhile later as she tried to focus on the storyline but failed. Pulling an afghan over her shoulders, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
When she woke, dusk had fallen. The fire flickered and the cabin smelled like beef stew. Her stomach rumbled as she lifted her arms over her head and stretched the stiffness from her limbs.
“Whatever’s cooking sure smells good.” Lamanto’s sleepy voice shattered the stillness as he made his way from the bedroom.
She tossed aside the afghan and sat up straight, her gaze shifting to him as he moved closer. He still looked pale but more rested. They both had a lot of catching up to do on sleep.
“Stew and it’s probably ready if you’re hungry. I’ll put some biscuits in the oven. It won’t take more than a half-hour.”
“You’re going to whip up some homemade biscuits?” he asked, his tone brighter.
“I’m going to open a can,” she corrected.
“Oh,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “If I had two good arms, I’d whip up some biscuits.”
“You’re a good cook?”
“Not as good as my dad, but I can hold my own in the kitchen.”
“Your dad’s a chef?”
“Only for the family. My mama says she wins the bread and Papa bakes it.”
Keri smiled. She liked the way he said mama and Papa. There was something very old-world respectful and endearing about it.
“Wow,” he said, his gaze settling on her face. “You’re really beautiful when you smile.”
The compliment had her drawing her brows together in a frown. She wanted to chastise him for flirting, yet his words sounded so genuine. The thought brought a blush to her cheeks and warmth to her body. She redirected the conversation.
“Your mother is the bread winner of the family?”
Lamanto nodded but didn’t elaborate. He just kept looking at her, making her feel self-conscious about her wrinkled clothes and wild hair. Rising from the sofa, she smoothed both and asked, “What does she
Even though Keri depended more on frozen entrees, she’d still packed her mom’s staples. Good thing since she had an unexpected guest with a big appetite. Thoughts of him had her dumping a bag of frozen beef stew into the slow cooker for dinner. Lamanto would wake up hungry, and her cooking skills couldn’t compete with her mom’s.
She found a tissue, swiped at her eyes and blew her nose. Exhaustion had to be at the root of the melancholy, exhaustion and a return to the cabin. She’d been determined but wary of coming back. That’s why she hadn’t wanted her dad or brother to witness her return, in case she totally fell apart. She’d hoped it would be emotionally cathartic rather than devastating.
Lamanto had unwittingly eased the return. He’d kept her distracted from the heartache and loss. Not that she ever planned to admit as much to him. Nor did she want anyone to know she planned her own investigation of the accident that had cost her so much.
A glance toward the radio unit had her wondering if she should try to get a message to her dad. Part of her knew it would be the logical thing to do, but a larger part wanted to honor the promise she’d made her stowaway. He’d trusted her enough to go back to bed.
Or had he just trusted the storm would force her to keep her word? Keri supposed she could sneak in there and handcuff his good arm to the bed, but what purpose would it serve? If he hadn’t shot Don, that made him a victim rather than a criminal. Who knew?
Shaking her head, she went to the living, put a fat log on the fire and grabbed a book from another box she’d packed. She loved to read but rarely had time, so curling up on the sofa opposite the fire made perfect sense. What could be better than a good book on a stormy afternoon?
A nap? She answered her own question awhile later as she tried to focus on the storyline but failed. Pulling an afghan over her shoulders, she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.
When she woke, dusk had fallen. The fire flickered and the cabin smelled like beef stew. Her stomach rumbled as she lifted her arms over her head and stretched the stiffness from her limbs.
“Whatever’s cooking sure smells good.” Lamanto’s sleepy voice shattered the stillness as he made his way from the bedroom.
She tossed aside the afghan and sat up straight, her gaze shifting to him as he moved closer. He still looked pale but more rested. They both had a lot of catching up to do on sleep.
“Stew and it’s probably ready if you’re hungry. I’ll put some biscuits in the oven. It won’t take more than a half-hour.”
“You’re going to whip up some homemade biscuits?” he asked, his tone brighter.
“I’m going to open a can,” she corrected.
“Oh,” he replied, flashing her a grin. “If I had two good arms, I’d whip up some biscuits.”
“You’re a good cook?”
“Not as good as my dad, but I can hold my own in the kitchen.”
“Your dad’s a chef?”
“Only for the family. My mama says she wins the bread and Papa bakes it.”
Keri smiled. She liked the way he said mama and Papa. There was something very old-world respectful and endearing about it.
“Wow,” he said, his gaze settling on her face. “You’re really beautiful when you smile.”
The compliment had her drawing her brows together in a frown. She wanted to chastise him for flirting, yet his words sounded so genuine. The thought brought a blush to her cheeks and warmth to her body. She redirected the conversation.
“Your mother is the bread winner of the family?”
Lamanto nodded but didn’t elaborate. He just kept looking at her, making her feel self-conscious about her wrinkled clothes and wild hair. Rising from the sofa, she smoothed both and asked, “What does she
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