Page 10 of Talk Turkey To Me
Lily’s eyes went wide, “You’re kidding me.”
“What?”
“You deep fry the turkeys?”
“Yes.” He confirmed and she rolled her eyes.
“Jesus, you’re turning my restaurant into the Beverly Hillbillies.”
“It’s notyourrestaurant.” He reminded her, “And what’s wrong with a deep fried turkey? Not fancy enough for you now that you’ve traveled the world?”
She huffed, “Turkeys should be glazed and baked, the way God intended.”
“Well, the good people of Compass Creek seem to like them fried.”
Myles could hear her muttering under her breath about him ruining her life but since she was chopping carrots like she wished it was his limbs under her knife, he let her be and went back to his own station. He smiled to himself as they worked in silence. There was a tension in the air that felt charged but he couldn’t say that he minded. He was still such an idiot over the girl that just being close to her again made him happy.
He could remember all those nights they’d spent together in this kitchen and maybe he was a sap but he’d always hoped that someday she’d come home and they’d get the chance to be together like this again.
They worked in silence for a long while. Lily chopping. Him making dough for the pie crusts. They moved around one another without speaking but somehow, the kitchen seemed to be getting smaller and hotter by the second.
He slid past her to get more flour, a hand lingering on her hip a second longer than necessary. She brushed by him on her way to get a large bowl for the vegetables and her breasts pressed momentarily against his back. He couldn’t be sure if it was intentional on either of their parts but the outcome was the same either way. He was losing his mind as the need to touch her, really touch her, went from a mild desire in the back of his mind to an urgent need that made his entire body hum with electricity.
“How’d you end up here?”
When her voice broke the silence he was so lost in his own unspeakable thoughts that he completely missed what she’d said, again, “Huh?”
“Jesus Myles. You got glasses. Are you sure you don’t also need a hearing aid?”
“I was focused on what I’m doing.” He growled. “And what is your fixation with my glasses?”
She chose to ignore his question, again, “Here, at The Mont. How did you end up here and get to be named head chef? I can’t figure it out, not when the last time we spoke you were joining up with one of the oilfield crews to be a landman or whatever.”
“It’s been seven years since we last spoke, Lil.” He ignored the slice of pain that came with those words. “A lot can change in that amount of time.”
“Clearly.” She shot a glance at him and motioned around the kitchen with the knife, “So… tell me about it.”
“What do you want to know?”
She sighed as if she’d expected him to just blurt out his life story, “Did you even join that oilfield crew you were so convinced you were destined for?”
“I did. Yeah.” He picked up the rolling pin again, “But it didn’t last long.”
“Fired?” She teased and he glanced up to see her lips curled into a small smile.
He chuckled, “Injured actually. I took a loose shaft to my left leg. Broke it so badly I nearly lost the damn thing.”
“Seriously?”
He glanced up to see her eyebrows were nearly at her hairline, “Yeah. It was bad. I was laid up for months. Had to go through a handful of surgeries. There’s some metal pins in there that’ll set off a security checkpoint and I still have a bit of a limp but it healed.”
Myles lifted the leg of his pants to show her the scars that crossed from his kneecap all the way down to his ankle and she gasped. He knew it still looked bad and he could admit, at least to himself, that he may have wanted a little bit of her sympathy. She put a hand to her mouth and shook her head so he dropped the pants leg back into place.
“I’m such a bitch.” She muttered and his lips twisted upwards.
“Sorry, what?”
“I noticed the limp. Earlier. I noticed and I thought you were trying to do some sort of swagger.” She winced a little and he laughed.
