Page 97 of Snowbound Surrender
“Hmm.” Randall stepped closer to the stove, looking over her shoulder at her supper preparations. “It must get hot in the summer, then, without windows.”
Miranda’s shoulders sagged. “I hadn’t thought of that.” She hadn’t considered that she might be even more miserable running a saloon in the summer than she was in the winter.
“Do you need me to help?” Randall asked.
Miranda stirred the beans and corn in the pot and sent him a resigned look. She needed all sorts of help.
Supper was…well,it wasn’t quite what Randall was used to. Miranda had boiled the poor beans and corn within an inch of their lives, overcooked the chicken, and taken the biscuits out before they were completely done. But he’d been raised to be a gentleman and a polite guest, so he said nothing, loaded his plate, and made it his life’s goal to eat everything she put in front of him.
“How is your supply of wood and coal?” he asked to keep his mind off of what was going in his mouth.
Miranda picked at her food with her fork, probably not tasting a morsel as she ate—lucky her. “There’s plenty of wood in the storage room, and more on the porch. Although if this snow continues and forms drifts along the front of the building, we might not be able to reach it.” She glanced up at himsuddenly, worry painting her face. “Do you think we could be trapped inside the saloon?”
Her concern poked at something tender in his heart. He sighed, putting on a look of mock resignation. “We’ll have to hold out until the spring thaw.” He shrugged and sawed through his dry chicken, popping a bite in his mouth. “Better eat this slowly. It’ll have to last for months.”
Miranda relaxed into a guilty laugh. “I suppose we’ll be fine eventually. I’ve never been on my own in dire circumstances like this.” Her lips pinched. She raised a fork full of soggy vegetables to her lips, but put it down without eating.
Randall’s first instinct was to reassure her, to tell her she wasn’t alone, that he was there with her. He even opened his mouth to say as much, but a flash of inspiration stopped him. “It reminds me of the time the merchant vessel I was working on traveled to the Kingdom of Hawaii and I was left behind in a rowboat after a fishing trip.”
Miranda fumbled her fork, her eyes going wide. “You’ve been to the Kingdom of Hawaii?”
Randall’s lips twitched into a smile. “Yes, and I can assure you, it was warmer than this.”
She blinked, then laughed, then pressed a hand to her mouth. A moment later, she pulled her hand away and frowned. “You were stranded in a boat?”
“Not exactly.” Randall shrugged and went back to eating his meal. It grew less palatable as it cooled off. “I was stranded on a small island. There are scads of them out there, you know. For a few hours, I was certain I was going to end up like Robinson Crusoe—only without Friday—doomed to live out the rest of my wretched days alone on an island.”
Miranda arched an eyebrow, spearing a piece of chicken with her fork, decidedly more relaxed than she’d been minutes before. “Are you saying that I’m Friday.”
Randall laughed. “It’s far more likely thatI’mFriday, at the rate we’re going.”
“Yes, well, I did cook.” She put on a superior look, one that made Randall’s heart thunder against his ribs. Once she’d chewed and swallowed, she went on. “How long were you stranded?”
“Only a few hours. Fortunately, one of my fellow crew members noticed I was missing, saw that the boat was gone too, and put two and two together. The captain knew my father, so he wasn’t about to leave me there to make friends with the parrots.”
“What a relief.” Miranda took a bite of her biscuit, made a face, and put it down again. “Where else have your adventures taken you?”
“I’ve been to Mexico,” he answered. And because it was a topic close to the top of his thoughts, he said, “The food there is spicy and delicious.”
“Really? I’ve never had food from Mexico.”
Randall grinned at his memories, willing the doughy biscuit to taste like an empanada. “The señoritas who cooked for us could do things with avocados that would bless your dreams for years to come.”
Miranda shrugged and shook her head. “What’s an avocado?”
It was Randall’s turn to stare at her with wide eyes. “You’ve never had an avocado?”
“Is it a kind of sweet?”
He made a mental note that her mind would go straight to sweets at the mention of something delicious, but shook his head and scooted closer to the table on his seat. “It’s a sort of vegetable.” He paused. “Well, technically, I think it’s a fruit. But it’s savory, with soft flesh that transforms any dish into pure heaven.”
Miranda smiled, hopefully no longer hearing the whistle of the gale that blew against the corner of the saloon or the tinkling of snow and ice hitting the window. “The only exotic thing I’ve ever eaten was a fruit called a mango.”
“Mangos are delicious,” Randall agreed. “In India, they puree them and blend them with milk and spices to make a drink called lassi.”
Miranda’s smile widened, then faltered. “It seems as though you’ve had a great many more exciting experiences than I’ve had.”
Randall shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never inherited a saloon.”
