A Temporary Courtship. Jenna Mindel

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СКАЧАТЬ calm enough despite the flush of red that tipped his ears.

      “We all do. In fact, you can prepare morels any way you’d normally cook or sauté other mushrooms. Personally, I like to bread mine. It’s no problem if you prefer not to stick around.”

      Bree looked back at Ed.

      The old guy wasn’t appeased by Darren’s offer to leave. “Now look here—”

      “I’d like to know how you cook them,” Bree quickly interrupted.

      Others agreed. Situation diffused.

      Bree relaxed as the tension eased and Ed nodded for Darren to continue. As if he was somehow in charge.

      Darren had been beyond patient when they’d run late because there were so many mushrooms to find and pick. No one had wanted to leave. Including Bree. Who’d have guessed she’d enjoy roaming the woods so much? She didn’t even care that her shoes were dirty or her pants filthy from wiping her fingers on them.

      Darren showed that same patience now in the face of Ed’s belligerence as he emptied his morels into a bowl in the sink. “Cleaning is easy. Just soak them in salt water, swish them around a bit, and then rinse and drain like so. Get as much water off as you can. Then you’re ready to cook.”

      Bree watched as he laid the washed mushrooms out on paper towels. And the questions started to fly.

      “Can you dry them for storing?”

      “Yes.”

      “How?”

      “String them up to air-dry or use the lowest setting on a dehydrator. I’ve seen them laid out on an old window screen in the sun to dry.”

      That got their class buzzing with chatter.

      “What about freezing?” another asked.

      “Freeze after drying, or freeze after sautéing. If you freeze after picking, don’t wash them. If they’re wet you’ll ruin them.”

      Bree nearly laughed at Darren’s clipped answers. He looked like a man who wanted out of there. His earlier patience had worn thin. She watched as he quickly melted a huge glob of butter in a frying pan before dredging the mushrooms in a flour mixture. He threw the coated morels in the pan.

      The group murmured likes and dislikes while the intoxicating smell of melted butter and sizzling mushrooms teased Bree’s senses. Her stomach grumbled in response.

      “Not good for my diet,” one of the ladies said.

      Several agreed. But Bree didn’t care. Those things looked and smelled delicious.

      “What’s that mixture you use?” Ed sounded almost polite. Not quite, but still.

      Darren took his time answering, turning the morels over in the pan. “Flour, salt and pepper. Seasoned salt works, too.”

      Bree scanned their group huddled around the island waiting as Darren ladled those butter-fried mushrooms onto a paper towel–lined plate.

      He lifted the plate to share. “Be careful. They’re hot.”

      In this batch, there were enough mushrooms for everyone to try a couple. Bree waited till the end before she took her two. The anticipation was worth it. She closed her eyes while savoring the buttery, mild mushroom taste.

      “Well?” He tipped his head. Did he really want to know what she thought?

      Bree soaked his interest up like a sponge. “Firm texture and subtle flavor. These are really good.”

      Darren smiled. Big and broad like his shoulders.

      And Bree was momentarily stunned. At a loss for words, all because of one smile from one interesting, burly man sharing a moment, an actual connection with her—over cooked mushrooms!

      She popped the last morel into her mouth and mumbled, “I’ve got to run.”

      * * *

      Class wrapped up quickly after Bree scurried out. She reminded him of his sisters who’d up and bolt when they’d suddenly remember they left their curling irons plugged in somewhere. But surely that couldn’t be it. Bree’s hair was straight and shiny. Would that thick mass of mink-colored tresses be soft or coarse to the touch?

      He scowled. Not the kind of thoughts he should have.

      “What? Did you find some grease that we missed?” Stella and a couple other women had helped him clean up in minutes.

      “No. No. It’s nothing.” He gave them a nod. “Thank you, ladies. Next week, same time and place.”

      “See you then.” Stella walked away and then turned back. “You did a great job today, Darren. Thank you.”

      Warmth filled him, mixed with shame at spurning her concern this past year. “You’re welcome. Good to see you again, Stel.”

      “And you, as well.” She winked and left with her small entourage of elderly friends.

      Darren could count on her for good buzz on his class. Maybe this time around, his regional boss would see that he was ready to deal with anyone. Even the Bay Willows crowd.

      When he climbed into the van, he blew out his breath. Not bad. His first wild edibles class was done, along with today’s shift. And he hadn’t run into any problems or his ex. All that stressing over nothing. He’d have to face her one of these days, but not today.

      Starting the engine, he checked his rearview mirror, caught a glimpse of a pink-and-green-striped bag on one of the seats and groaned. His day wasn’t over yet. He’d have to return that purse to the owner.

      He reached back and grabbed it. Hesitating only a moment, he looked inside. Rifling through a woman’s purse was not something he relished, but after digging around lipstick tubes and travel packs of tissues, he found a wallet. As he opened that, a driver’s license with a picture of Stella greeted him.

      At least he knew where she lived. He’d been there many times, with and without Raleigh. He used to stop in to fix a thing or two around Stella’s cottage. Who took care of that now? Tony? He doubted that. Tony wasn’t exactly a fix-it kind of guy. He’d call a repair man with the excuse that he had more money than time.

      Tony knew all about money. From the world of high finance and investments, his best friend had spoken Raleigh’s language far better than Darren ever had. The sting of their betrayal still lingered. It wasn’t easy to lose his bride and best man in one day—one horrible day that had changed everything.

      He pulled into the small driveway of Stella’s cottage with the screened-in porch and looked around. No cars were parked nearby other than Stella’s little black Buick. He stepped onto the porch. Crisp white wicker furniture with brightly colored cushions had been casually arranged. A vase stuffed with tall, fake flowers stood sentinel on the glass-topped side table.

      And this was only the porch.

      He finally knocked on the door.

      “Darren, СКАЧАТЬ