Truth or Beard(90)
“See now, since there’s five of us left here—with Ashley back in Chicago, and Roscoe at school—we each have a night of the week where it’s our responsibility to cook, then we fend for ourselves on the weekends.”
Beau, unable to find a fork, gave up his search and pulled three beers out of the wooden chest, setting two down in front of me and Duane before claiming a seat across from us.
“Thank you, Beau.”
“You’re welcome, Jess.”
“Cletus takes a trip to Texas twice a year to spear hunt wild boars, and so once a month he feeds us wild boar sausage,” Duane continued.
“Spear hunt?” I knew my eyes were bulging out of my head. “Wild boar? Aren’t those things huge?”
“Let’s just say, they make a lot of bacon. And sausage.” Cletus indicated to the plate of sausage again, then poked at the smoking coals in the grill with a long grilling fork.
“I can’t believe you spear hunt. Isn’t that terribly dangerous?”
He shrugged. “Well, now. I don’t think it’s respectful to shoot a boar from the comfort of a hiding place and while wielding a firearm. That’s not a fair fight. Nowadays I feel like people are too far from the food they eat. How many people do you know would eat a steak if they had to slit its throat, electrocute it, and watch all the blood drain out.”
“Ugh, Cletus! Really?” Beau made a face. “I was hungry, before you started bringing up slaughter houses.”
“My point is, if I’m going to kill a wild animal, I don’t see why I should make things easy on myself.”
“He does it with a bunch of native Americans fellas, good guys. They all get together and run around the forest in loin cloths,” Duane supplied before tipping his beer back and taking a long pull.
I watched with fascination how his lips wrapped around the bottle, how his throat worked as he swallowed. By the time he took it from his mouth and caught an errant drop with the tip of his tongue, I felt a little dazed. As well, I’d completely forgotten what we were discussing.
When he finished he glanced back at me, but then his brow furrowed in question—likely at my dreamy expression. “Hey, Jess. You okay?”
I nodded, sighed, and wished he’d been licking an errant drop of something off me. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You look a little hot.” This came from Beau and I found him watching us, mischief behind his eyes. So I frowned at him and his teasing. He mimicked my frown, though not quite successfully because his mouth curved into an impish smile immediately after. “Maybe Duane should show you around the house, it might help you cool off.”
“Sitting so close to my sausage likely has you overheated and excited,” Cletus mumbled as he indicated to the grill with his chin.
“As I was saying…” Duane’s tone held a note of exasperation as he swept Beau and Cletus a hard look before turning his attention back to me. “Billy cooks Mondays, Beau is Tuesdays, then Cletus on Wednesday, me on Thursday, and Jethro on Friday.”
“We have a schedule,” Cletus volunteered. “We like our schedules, they keep things orderly.”
“So, who’s filling in for Jethro on Friday?”
“He left casseroles—lots of them—in the deep freezer,” Billy answered in a flat tone.
“Hey, you could make us dinner on Friday. If you want,” Beau suggested.
Duane shook his head before I could answer. “No. Jess and I will make dinner together tomorrow, on my night.”
“That’s cheating,” Billy protested.
“There’s no rules. And are you really going to turn down Jess’s meatloaf?”
Billy didn’t respond to Duane’s question verbally, but instead allowed his icicle eyes and disapproving silence to answer for him.
“Can you come back tomorrow?” Duane turned me in his arms slightly, his voice low and gentle.
“Yeah. I can come tomorrow. No problem. Do you mind if I leave everything here tonight?”
Duane shrugged. “We have plenty of space in the fridge, now Cletus has removed his sausage.”
“Okay,” I nodded, leaned forward, picked up my pie again, and made to stand. “Well then I guess I’ll go—”
A chorus of, “No!” and “What? Where are you going?” and “Put that pie down,” and other protests kept me from going back to the front porch to collect my things.
“You should stay.” Billy gave me a half smile that was completely unexpected, as were his words. “Stay and have dinner with us. Your company would be a welcome change.”
“Yes. Stay. Even if you’re a big eater, there’s plenty of my sausage for you.”