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He couldn’t drop all of this on her right now. But he intended to do it later, after her ex had gone back to wherever the hell he lived full time. “I know you’re busy tomorrow night. What about the night after that?”
She frowned. “Carol’s likely to be in a mood after David. I don’t want to leave her with a sitter. Could you come for dinner again?”
“If I can switch shifts with the other bartender so I can get away early, then yeah.”
“Okay, let’s leave it at that.”
“Mom,” Carol called, “the cable’s not working.”
Ruth sighed, closing her eyes. “Sorry. Duty calls.”
“Let me. I’m a cable ninja.” He gave her a quick smile. “Back in a second.”
He headed for the living room, trying to yank his unruly imagination back into line. Interruptions and more interruptions. But the fact was, he didn’t mind taking care of Carol’s problems.
He wanted Ruth. More and more, he wanted Ruth. And Carol was obviously part of that deal.
Chapter Eighteen
In the end, Ruth paid Peaches to fix something for dinner the next night. It wasn’t that she didn’t think she could cook something to David’s taste—she just didn’t feel like trying. When she’d explained the situation, Peaches got a slightly determined look.
“It’ll be a challenge. I mean, you want something tasty enough that no one will complain, but not so tasty that you get distracted by the food. Carol should be the center of attention, right?”
Ruth nodded a little grimly. “Ideally, yes. Do you need me to pick up anything from the market?”
Peaches shook her head. “I’m heading over there anyway to pick up some staples. I’m thinking chicken. Nobody gets offended by chicken.”
“Nobody at my house.” At least nobody at her house currently. For all she knew, David might be on a gluten-free vegan diet. In which case, he was going to be hungry.
She’d half hoped Liam might drop by for coffee that morning, but he was probably too busy for that. He had the brewery to tend to plus the night shift at the tavern. His chances of having any time for a break were slim.
All the same, she wished she could see him. If only for a few minutes. Dinner with David loomed ahead of her. And Park City loomed ahead for them both.
Carol slipped in at ten and took her place behind the deli counter without comment. The chain-mail gloves she’d ordered had arrived while she was at Brett’s, and Ruth had left them lying on the counter. Carol’s face lit up when she saw them.
“Those are so cool. Can I run the slicer now?”
Ruth frowned. She’d been thinking about this—a lot. “You can run the slicer when there’s an adult beside you. Me or Peaches or a waitress like Sue. You have to wear the gloves. And you have to show me that you know how to operate the slicer safely before you can even think of doing it on a regular basis. It’s a tool, kiddo, but it’s a dangerous tool. I have to know you’ll be okay.”
Carol gave her a solemn look. “Yes, ma’am. I can do that. When should we start?”
Ruth checked the dining room. She’d been hoping to get back to making some cheese before lunch since things were a little slow. But the fact that things were slow might mean this was the ideal time to show Carol how the slicer worked.
The machine was a manual model, which was the only reason she’d let Carol near it. They spent twenty minutes going through the basics—setting the width of the slices, putting the meat and cheese on the platform, raising the guard. Particularly raising the guard.
Carol watched intently. And when it was her turn to slice, she did it with exaggerated care, wearing her chain-mail gloves. Ruth didn’t kid herself that Carol would always be that careful, but at least she understood why she needed to be.
“Okay, we’ll give this a try. But I’m serious about you wearing the gloves and about you having an adult around. Understand?”
Carol nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure I do it right. I promise.” She watched Ruth clean the machine, particularly the blade. “You probably don’t want me to do that, right?”
