Page 118 of Tasting Fire
Way presented his charcuterie board, pretty damn elegant, if Cash was being honest. Riley was all about a fresh tropical fruit salad, studded with cardamom and mint.
And Shep pushed forward a basket of flaky rolls. Of them all, he was the one with the most patience for the precision needed for baking. Another mystery as to why his mom, as an engineer, couldn’t seem to crack the baking code.
“You might as well uncover it,” Maggie said, staring bullet holes into Cash’s foil-wrapped platter.
He did, revealing more foil-wrapped items.
Maggie grinned. “It’s just corn. Early in the season, but still. That’s not cheating. It’s…it’s underwhelming, honestly.” Then she grabbed one and put it on her plate. And when she parted the foil, she contemplated what was inside. “You made bacon-wrapped grilled sweet corn.”
“And you can thank me later.” And she would, because he’d sampled one earlier, and that corn was pretty freaking awesome.
Dishes were passed and plates were filled. But rather than a massive chow-down, they ate slowly. Cash liked to approach the meal the way Shep had eaten his food as a kid, one dish, one flavor at a time.
The salty tang of prosciutto. The parmesan and gouda in the mac. The tender crunch of cabbage under a carbonara sauce. As always, everything was topnotch.
“Mr. Kingston,” Emmy said from beside Cash, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hankered for your homegrown tomatoes over the years.”
“I think you should probably call me Ross now.” His dad laughed. “And you probably shouldn’t have admitted that about the tomatoes.”
“They’ll be on your doorstep all summer,” Cash whispered to Emmy. “But way better than anything my mom might send.”
“What did you say?” his mom asked from the other end of the table.
“Just told her between you and dad, she might never have to cook for herself again.”
By the look of sharp suspicion in his mother’s eyes, she hadn’t bought a word of his bullshit.
When everyone had a chance at a taste test for all of the offerings, the debate about a winner started. Riley’s fruit salad was delicious, but had it needed a little something to up its oomph factor? Based on Way’s cooking abilities, his charcuterie tray had been a slight copout.
“Cash shouldn’t even be in the running,” Maggie pointed out.
“And we haven’t eaten Emmy’s cheesecakes yet,” Shep said.
“Oh, I didn’t come to compete.”
“If you eat, you compete,” Maggie told her. “Which means it’s time to break out the cheesecakes!”
His mom hopped up and got them from the kitchen. She pulled off the top with a flair as if she was presenting her own cooking and then she blinked at the array of mini cheesecakes—each one different, with swirls of frosting, candied fruit, and even one with carrot shavings on top. “Wow. I didn’t realize you were such a talented baker, Emmy.”
“Oh…well…I’m…they…” Emmy blew out a breath. “My mom and Kris helped. A lot.”
“Still. Maybe we could get together and you could teach me to make something like this.”
If Emmy hadn’t tasted failure before now, she was about to get a whole mouthful of it.
“Any time. But before anyone—”
“Shhhtht,” Way mouthed around something. That’s what grabbing for the rainbow sprinkled cheesecake and digging in would get a guy.
“—takes a bite,” Emmy continued, “I need to warn you there’s something in the center of each. You might want to eat around it.”
“Like a King Cake,” Riley said and reached for one with a dollop of chocolate on top.
“The one in the middle is for Cash.”
Aw, she’d baked a special cheesecake just for him. Maybe he could save it and they’d allocate that creamy topping for a more personal potluck. His expression must’ve given him away because Emmy elbowed him.
“Stop whatever you’re thinking. Your family is in the room.”
