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“What the hell happened?” I all but shout at her.
This moment is all too similar to the night I met her. Only this time, gray smoke pours out her front and back door, and she’s fully dressed. Unfortunately, I’m emotionally involved. Well, emotionally pissed off.
She jumps at the sound of my voice.
“Geez, could you warn a girl or something? For someone so large, you are freakishly silent when coming and going.”
She puts down the sheet pan, pulls her hair free of the messy knot it’s in and redoes it. Her hair is always so golden and so shiny. Too often, I’ve thought about running my fingers through it, but it looks like a mess right now.
“I’m not sure how you didn’t hear me come running through the door when I’m wearing boots.”
At this, she looks me over from head to toe, but her gaze is slow. I don’t think she’s looking at me, and then it occurs to me that she’s remembering. Her cheeks flush pink. Yeah, I understand better than she does. I actually saw her naked, except for the tiny underwear, and I can’t forget that either.
Not that I want to.
Clearing her throat, she looks away from me and moves to the sink to wash her hands. “Why are you wearing boots?”
“Why am I wearing boots? I was working in the barn when I heard the alarm. The better question is, what happened? Are you hurt?”
When I look around her kitchen, it’s like a bomb went off with how much stuff she has everywhere. There are bowls, mixing utensils, ingredients like flour and sugar, and a bowl of chopped apples. Clearly, she was trying to fry something as there’s a mess all over the countertops, and don’t get me started on the black smoke residue along the back of the range wall or the pot on the stove with the large fire blanket thrown over it.
“No, not hurt. Embarrassed, maybe.”
I walk to the sink and grab her arms to look at them and her hands. She yanks them free and glares at me.
“Do you mind?” she asks, spinning around and going to the living room, where she picks up three plants and takes them outside.
“Yes, I mind!”
“Well, while you’re over there not minding your own business, maybe make yourself useful and move the plants,” she orders me.
As the smoke clears from my head, I realize she’s trying to save her plants from the polluted air. I move to the one with the chirper, pocketing it so she can’t see it, and grab the plant. This is a perfect opportunity to take it home and replace the battery. It also reminds me why I was coming here in the first place.
“I was trying to make some apple fritters with some apples I bought, but the oil got too hot,” she says as she brushes by me, not looking at me, and picking up two more plants. “I didn’t realize the oil could just burst into flames.”
Bought? What?
“Didn’t you see the smoke? That’s the sign it’s too hot.”
“Thanks for the obvious lecture, but no. I was turned around and chopping the apples. I wasn’t paying attention, and I should have been.”
“Where did you buy apples? You can have all the apples you want from my trees. If you wander up, I think there are even a few left on your side.”
“I bought them from you,” she says, like I’m the dumbest person ever.
I recoil at this. I don’t want to take her money. They’re just apples.
“When?”
“Yesterday. I didn’t see you, but Cole was there. I bought them from him.”
Seems like Cole and I are going to have another little chat. I pick up one of her larger plants and take it to the porch and set it down so it can get a few moments of the afternoon sun. She brings out another, and after she sets it down, I embrace her arm to get her attention.
“Goldie, your money’s no good to me. Just pick what you want. Always.”
“I support my friends. I don’t take from them.”
Hearing her use the word friend has the anger in me calming, and she sees the change as the tension in her face relaxes too.
