“This way none of y’all can groan about not getting some of thefresh ones. They’re mixed in. And there’s no fussin’ over getting their eggs done a certain way. It's all scrambled,” she responded. “How’s that bacon coming, Tuck?”
I flipped a few slices on the griddle, the smell of cooking pork and grease making my mouth water. “Coming along.”
“You ain’t killing them, are ya?” She gave me a skeptical side-eye, leaning around my stocky frame to glance at the cooking strips. “If you ruin the bacon, you’re going to have some right ornery men on your hands.”
“It’s already dead,” I responded, pressing a particularly fatty piece into the griddle with the ends of my tongs. The pop and sizzle almost drowned out the low sound of distress that came from behind me, but I turned around, only to find Jackson’s distraught expression.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, working to plate the few strips that were ready.
His eyes glanced toward the meat and then back to my face, another strangled sound leaving his throat. “You’re ruining the bacon.”
“I’m making sure no one gets sick,” I clarified.
“They don’t need to be stiff boards to keep people from getting sick. Those aren’t even edible,” Jackson nearly whined, gesturing toward the plate.
“They are too!” I said a little defensively, somewhat troubled that he didn’t believe I could properly cook something as simple as bacon. Sure, I wasn’t on Tallie’s level of kitchen mastery, but my many early mornings with her had taught me a few things. Just to prove that point, I picked up a slice of bacon and bit into it. There was a satisfying crunch, and saltiness exploded on my tongue.
“See? Perfect bacon.”
“More like dry cardboard.” Jackson winced and made to grab the tongs out of my hands. “I can’t let you ruin the rest of them.”
I lifted my hand up and out of the way of his reach, careful not to turn my body toward the stove, and shook my head. “As foreman, Ican’t have my men getting food poisoning because the new guy wants raw bacon.”
“I wantnormalbacon!” Jackson protested, pressing against me to stretch for the tongs. I shuffled back more, finding myself getting pushed against the island in his effort to reach the utensil. Every muscle inside me stiffened, expecting to be overwhelmed by the sandalwood and bergamot that hadn’t haunted me so viciously till this man arrived. But instead, there was nothing except maybe the sterile undertones of tea tree and soap. The realization struck me still, and a clamp around my heart squeezed with a near painful grip for all new reasons.
My lack of movement caused Jackson to snag the cooking utensil from my hand, and he let out a victorious chuckle, fully unaware of the shift he’d forced inside me as he righted himself.
“Your cologne…” The words were ragged, barely a whisper that could be heard over the continued sounds of the meat cooking.
Jackson blinked a few times, the dimple he’d sported from his triumph sliding away from his face. “Raleigh’s? I’m not wearing it, just like you asked.” His eyes bounced over my face that should have been a mask of indifference, but I knew he could see the cracks.
He lifted his jacket to his nose, testing it for a scent he no longer claimed as his own, while I fought back the sob lodged in my throat. My heart was a tangled mess—the beats I once thought were for the only man I’d ever loved feeling foreign to me now as my wound spilled just a little more.
Grief was so complicated. He’d done exactly what I asked, and that should have made me relieved. I wouldn’t be working alongside someone who smelled like every bittersweet memory I had of my husband. So why did it feel like I’d lost another small piece of him?
“Is it still on me?” he asked, lifting pitiful hazel hues in my direction. “I swear, I showered last night as soon as I got into the bunkhouse, and I didn’t put any on today.”
I shook my head, forcing the lump of emotion back down into the pit of my stomach. “No. It’s gone.” The burning in my throatwouldn’t subside, and I cleared it, hoping to not give away this conflicting swell inside me.
Those eyes so much like one of the old oaks that dotted our land softened around the corners, and his lips tilted into a gentle, knowing smile. It was only half as good with the dimple missing.
When he nodded and snipped the tongs together before motioning toward the stove, it was only then that I remembered how we’d even gotten ourselves into this position. “I swear, I will have you working in the back pastures for a week fixing fences if anyone gets sick.” I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to inject some authority into my still wavering voice.
“Jokes on you, because as I see it, you’ll have to be out there with me making sure I’m doing it right.”
At the eyebrow raise I gave him, he shrugged, and that damn dent in his cheek came out. “It’s my first day.”
I let out a long breath, feeling the corners of my mouth ticking up at his bratty attitude. When we both turned back to resume cooking, Tallie was just finishing plating the last bits of the bacon, and the skillet of eggs on the burner beside the griddle looked fluffy and ready to eat.
“Oh.” She gave a faux startle as she glanced toward us. “Y’all done now? Mind settin’ the table since neither one o’ y’all are actually cookin’?”
Heat flooded my neck and into my cheeks, and I tipped my hat low to hide the tint I knew was surely living on my skin. “Yes’m.”
“Don’t ma’am me, Tucker.” Tallie placed her hands on her hips, but her eyes were sparkling with a light I hadn’t seen in a while as she glanced between the two of us. “Go set the table. Folks’ll be wanderin’ in soon for coffee.”
Sure enough, as Jackson and I were pulling out enough plates and silverware for everyone, Dillon came staggering in looking like he was dead on his feet. Hot on his heels was Granger, perky and bright-eyed as usual. The two were the antithesis of the other first thing in the mornings, and it never failed to tickle me just a little.Once Dillon got his coffee, though, they’d be two regular peas in a pod again.
My closest friend made eye contact with me before swinging his gaze to the sandy blond beside me.
