Page 57 of A Cowboy's Bride
“There will be plain old pepperoni,” Tansy promised.
She got the dough going, and once it was set aside to rise, the three of them wrangled the pizza oven into position by the fire.
“It's electric,” Tansy explained, setting up an extension cord. “I fully plan to build one that’s woodfired at some point, but it makes no sense to have that where I am now. They don’t approve of open fires in apartments.”
“Your restaurant is really nice,” Jinx offered sincerely.
“Thank you. It’s got a lot of charm,” agreed Tansy. “I like it as well because my sister is either helping me or right next door dealing with the flower shop. Rose is now living with her fiancé instead of with me, though, so the only time I see her is at work.”
“And at your mom and dad’s for dinner every few days. Plus, when you go to visit your sister Fern. Maybe even when you go to visit your Grandma and Grandpa,” Petra added helpfully.
Tansy pressed a hand to her chest. “Yes, those times, too.” She offered a long-suffering sigh and head shake to Jinx. “I'm so hard done by. Everybody loves me. They can't survive without their daily dose of Tansy.”
From the expression on her face, Jinx already had a serious case of hero worship.
Sydney hadn’t shown up by the time they went inside to make the crusts, but it was still early enough Petra wasn't worried. Instead, she joined in with amusement as Tansy tried to teach her and Jinx how to make the crusts get bigger by spinning the dough in the air overhead for a moment.
“I’ll drop it,” Jinx worried.
Tansy shrugged. “Then you drop it. I made tons of dough,” she said soothingly. “Trust me. I've taught all my family to make pizza, and you can't be as bad as my father. The man goes from ten fingers to two whenever it's convenient.”
“Your dad is a kick,” Petra teased.
“My father is an outstanding member of this community with a little bit too much starch in his shorts at times.” Tansy said it with a straight face. “Which is why it's my duty, as his favourite daughter, to ensure he has lots of opportunities to lean toward the light and airy.”
Tansy's father was an outright saint for some of the hijinks he’d tolerated, most instigated by Tansy. “I'm pretty sure somebody told me you put actual starch in his shorts once upon a time.”
Tansy didn’t deny it. “It was a science experiment.”
Jinx looked up from where she was carefully cutting thin slices from a pepperoni stick. “What kind of science experiment?”
“Saturation point of a liquid or something like that.” Tansy waved a hand airily then sent her dough swirling in the air again. “Of course, then I had this huge bucket of starchy water that needed to be used up instead of wasted. I probably didn't need to use his shorts. And using balloons to hold them in position until they dried was just being creative. Arranging them on the front lawn as if invisible people were holding some kind of wild dance was the logical final step. Science, you know.”
Petra leaned around Tansy to firmly inform Jinx of the facts. “Mr. Fields is a saint.”
“Saint Malachi. Hmm.” Tansy noted. She picked up another ball of dough and thrust it at Jinx. “I’ve taught my dad, and I taught my little sister, Fern. Fern was born with a shortened arm on the left side, with differently formed fingers right about here.” She tapped her arm about two inches past the elbow. “She has a prothesis but doesn’t wear it all the time, and I have taught her to throw a mean crust.” She considered. “Honestly, I think her pizza crusts are better than mine. She said she uses mathematical calculations to time her spin. Something about a speed to flight ratio.”
Petra laughed. “Food science and math. Who knew?”
“Right?” Tansy agreed. “To me, cooking is not science. It’s tossing things in the pot and hoping it works.”
Whether she’d been convinced by the stories or not, Jinx took the dough Tansy offered her.
The shrieksof laughter from the kitchen kept growing. Aiden gave his head a final rub with the towel then dragged his fingers through his hair.
In the mirror, his grin shone back huge and bright. It was good to hear Jinx joining in. Mixed with Petra’s hearty laugh, the combination was quickly growing addictive.
Tomorrow would be one week since everything had changed, and High Water had gone from an idea to a reality. One week since Jinx had walked in the door.
One week that he and Petra had been sharing a bed.
All three facts astonished him, but perhaps the fact he’d managed to keep him and Petra on the slow boat instead of diving into full-out fucking might be the most miraculous.
Of course, Petra informing him on Monday evening that her period had started and that no way, no how, were they doing anything sexy had helped.
He’d insisted on cuddling, though. She’d huffed and rolled her eyes, but every night she’d willingly curled up facing him, legs entwined.
Falling asleep staring into Petra’s face was an entirely new level of intimacy he hadn’t expected to be quite so thrilling.
