Roasted (The Cass Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  It was magnificent, and terrifying. Killian caught up with her and whispered a groan, "Oh no, Fuck, fuck, fuck. I thought you three would stay by the shore..." The notion that her super hero/he man/guide was as afraid as she was, was disconcerting at best. If he was scared, she most certainly should be. She thought it wise to stay silent. Besides which she wasn't sure she could make any sort of recognizable sound with her heart pounding under her collarbones. Killian grasped her arm and moved in front of her. "Stay behind me." No argument there. He pulled his gun up to his shoulder and trained it on the large bear. "Don't worry, I've got a clean shot, "he whispered to her. Cass was horrified.

  "That's it, mama, other way, go on now, back by the shore," he murmured, eye pressed into the scope. His finger remained on the trigger, as he slowly backed away, pressing Cass behind him unto the other path. Suddenly the bear turned and with her fat cubs in tow, waddled back towards the coast line. Cass was close enough to feel Killian relax. She realized that she had misjudged him. He was not afraid. He had been honest earlier; he didn't want to shoot the bear. He would have, but he didn't want to. He gestured with his head and she followed him up back towards the road. He paused in a spot where the path widened and as she stepped beside him as he shifted his gun to his left shoulder. She was stunned when he swung his right hand and smacked her bottom, hard. Before her lips could form any words he had delivered two more stinging spanks.

  She about jumped out of her skin. "Holy hell, who do you think you are?"

  "I am the guy who was afraid you'd bleed out before I could get you to a hospital after being mauled by a mother bear. She could have been on you in five seconds. A bear is faster than a racehorse." He jerked his head. "Back to the jeep. If you can't do as I ask, you can stay in the god-damned house." He was furious. She was furious. She was also unbelievably aroused. She knew that he had no right to spank her. She knew that she should shove him into the woods and immediately return to the lower forty-eight. She also knew she would do no such thing. He had jerked her door open and something about this gentlemanly action added to her confusion. She was also suddenly remorseful. She didn't know what she was doing out here; she had had no real inkling of how dangerous wilderness could be.

  "I'm sorry," she stammered.

  He was openly baffled. "Did you think I told you to stay by me just to be mean? "

  "No. I just didn't think it through. Would you really have shot that bear?"

  He seemed further perplexed by her question. "If she charged, I wouldn't have had a choice."

  "What would have happened to the cubs?" she asked, the enormity of her mistake suddenly dawning on her.

  "I would call my brother—he's a ranger up here. They might be big enough to be on their own or there are cub rescue places." He turned to her suddenly. "You didn't think I'd kill the mother and abandon the cubs?"

  "No, I didn't think that. How did you know they were on the shore earlier?" she answered altogether too hurriedly.

  "I went out and looked before you were awake, of course."

  Oh. She expected him to be embarrassed and apologize for spanking her. He did no such thing. This was all new to her and she could not begin to put her thoughts in order. She did know that she did not want the day to end. "Could you show me around some more if I promise not to do anything stupid?"

  He grinned at her. "We'll head to the dock. You can do limited damage from a boat."

  "I don't know; I might inadvertently summon a killer whale or something." The tension was gone. She felt light as a soap bubble. A very, very turned on soap bubble. Stephen had swatted her as foreplay, when she had gotten drunk enough to ask him to. The whole thing had left her ashamed, and Steph had used it to humiliate her more than once. The irony was he had no problem claiming her work as his while shaming her lack of true feminist sensibilities. It was so complicated. Maybe she should just become a nun. She was trying to imagine what she'd do with her crazy curly hair under one of those old fashioned wimples when she realized that Killian was speaking to her, she had to ask him to repeat himself.

  "I said, orcas don't attack people."

  "That's only because I haven't gone swimming here."

  His laugh was golden, the fresh salty air blew unto them from his open window and when he said, "I won't let anything hurt you," she knew it to be true. Inexplicably, with a tingling back side, she had never felt more at ease.

  Chapter 7 - You Can't Find Good Help Anymore

  Killian suggested they get some lunch on the way to the dock, and she readily agreed. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but pizza wasn't it. "Open Bay Pizza" was the closest thing to a restaurant that she had seen in town. It wasn't much, a few empty booths and a very limited menu. The view of the water was indescribable. A sullen girl haltingly approached their table with a glare. Killian greeted her amicably, a greeting which Cass noticed their waitress did not return. They ordered drinks and a "grand feast" pizza. "While you are here, we'll have to get my Mom to make her famous halibut pizza for you," he said stretching himself out to fill up his side of the booth. An entirely different waitress stomped to their table and set their drinks down so hard that they both sloshed unto the table. The girl made no offer of wiping it up and turned on her heel.

  Cass was surprised. "I live in Chicago and I have never been treated so rudely. Chicago!"

  Killian laughed. "I'm not exactly popular here, but it's the only place anywhere near the dock."

  She was about to ask him why he was unpopular at the pizza parlor when a whale breached in the harbor. It was magnificent. She gasped in wonder. "You probably don't even notice that since you are used to it."

  He shook his head. "You never get used to that." He told her about humpback whales and about some of his close calls in the water. It felt like no time at all had gone by before their pizza arrived. It was not the worst pizza she'd ever had. A third waitress appeared and refilled their sodas without making eye contact with either of them. The girls loitered together by the cash register, managing to simultaneously ignore and spy upon them. Cass looked around curiously. Three waitresses and two customers, a far from efficient system. Killian caught her looking around.

  "There are two apartments upstairs, the girls all live up there." Cass understood that he meant that as some sort of explanation, but it didn't exactly clear anything up for her. He served her another slice of pizza and she demurred.

  "I can't. I'll get fatter just thinking about it." She laughed, Killian didn't.

  "Don't be silly; you're not heavy." She was pointing out to him how incorrect he was about this when one of the angry girls, they were all blurring together at this point, strode by and all but tossed their bill unto the table. Cass reached for her purse. Killian was faster. "I appreciate it, but I'll get it." He tucked some cash into the bill sleeve and stood up. Cass followed, intending to ask him if it was really a good idea to piss off the staff of the only restaurant in town. Once outside though she decided not to bring it up. She was taken aback by the sheer variety of boats lining the marina. There were big fishing boats, slightly smaller fishing boats, motor boats and a rack full of kayaks. It was chillier on the water and she couldn't imagine anyone braving that water in a kayak. She had a brief moment of terror that the kind of boating they were going to do would require any sort of outdoorsy skill on her part, or God forbid wriggling into a wet suit. She needn't have worried. Killian led her down to a nice motor boat. He set to work unsnapping the cover and then made sure her lifejacket was snug enough. This brought his hands disconcertingly close to her breasts and she was awkwardly reminded of just how attractive she found this man. He expertly piloted the boat away from the dock and towards the open ocean. She was aware of the beauty of the place surrounding her and seeping into her very pores. She closed her eyes feeling the salt mist on her face.

  "Cassandra." She snapped out of her reverie.

  She looked into his handsome face. "Um hmm."

  For the first time since she had met him, he di
dn't seem entirely at ease. "I didn't hurt you did I?"

  She didn't have to ask him what he was talking about. She could suddenly remember his palm on her flesh. "No," she reassured him. "You startled me. But no, I'm not hurt."

  His confidence returned. "You more than startled me. I was thinking that I wouldn't get to you in time, and then getting you to a hospital might take too long." He shook his head. "It was terrible."

  She should be insulted, and angry and outraged. Instead she took his hand. "I am truly sorry." Cass turned so that she could lean against him without relinquishing her grasp on his fingers.

  "You can't be my girl and scare me like that." It was absurd, they barely knew each other. She was an independent Chicagoan who made her living writing about food on the internet. He ran a wilderness tour company in Alaska. She had no idea what his favorite brand of beer was. She didn't even know what sort of music he listened to. She hadn't told him about Stephen, or her family or that she didn't think she would ever be able to eat a seal. Nevertheless, there it was, the void had been breached. She was his girl.

  She tried to be flip, as if she was asking an offhand question as she studiously watched the birds on the horizon. "So what happens if I scare you like that again?"

  He seemed absorbed in his steering and she was horrified at the thought that he hadn't heard her, but her momentum was gone, she wouldn't bring it up again. He leaned closer to her, and with a voice as low as smoke said," I will spank you."

  Her breath caught jaggedly. She could laugh it off, as if she thought he was teasing. Instead, she allowed herself to hope that the kind of love she had dreamed about as long as she could remember might, just might, be possible. She was direct. "No other hitting. No name calling."

  His agreement was so fast she thought he must surely be angry at her for even suggesting he would do such a thing. "Absolutely not. I will never let anything harm you, that includes me. Baby girl, I swatted your bottom, but I would cut my own hand off before I would hurt you. "

  "I believe you." She did. He kissed her. She kissed him back.

  She considered peppering him with a thousand questions. "How will this work? Are you always like this with girlfriends? Are you moving to Chicago or what? Am I surrendering everything? When are you going to make love to me?" She decided, for once in her life, to just let the moment unfurl. She leaned against him and he piloted the boat towards home.

  Chapter 8 - The Warning

  She was surprised to discover that the lodge had its own dock. He helped her out and tossed the keys to a younger guy wearing a Slick Trench Outfitters jacket. "Hey, return the boat to the big dock and drive the jeep home."

  She looked at the empty buckets. "Oh no! I didn't get any huckleberries. Not a single one." She did have one good, great actually, picture of the bears scarfing them.

  He laughed. "I'm pretty sure, Hazel has you covered." She did of course. Her kitchen was lined with buckets of them. Cass washed her hands and jumped into jelly making. Hazel offered her a slice of buttered toast slathered with the delicious fruits of their labors. Cass took a small bite and tasted it carefully, checking for mouth feel, acid, sweetness. Perfect. She put the remainder of her toast back unto her plate.

  "I need to stop now, or I won't be able to zip up my jeans."

  Killian rolled his eyes. "Don't be silly, you're perfect and you need your energy up here." He kissed her shoulder blade and announced that he was going to put a new light bulb on the front porch. Cass was delighted, but she remained resolute and ignored the beckoning toast while she typed up a blog post.

  Huckleberry Hound Jelly

  If you are lucky enough to get your hands on some of these elusive berries, seriously—google them and travel to wherever you have to—you will want to preserve them in some jelly. Their robust seeds preclude chutney or jam; so jelly it is. You can do this. It's not alchemy. Run the jars through your dishwasher to get them spotless. Start a water bath to boil—this is a giant lidded pot that has a wire rack inside it to hold jars. In another large pot, combine a quart of berries. You'll have to sort over them to remove tiny bits of stem—not good on toast. Five cups of sugar—do NOT try to reduce this. You are making jelly and that requires sugar. If that offends your sensibilities, accept that you will never capture the elixir of summer. You may need to seek treatment for your dour nature. For everybody else: Stir it up well and add about a cup of water. Boil for about five minutes, wiping down the sides of your pot. Allow to cool to less than flesh searing temperatures and pour through a wire strainer. Press with a spoon to get as much of the syrup out of the solids as you can. Return syrup to the pot over high heat. Once it has been at a rolling boil for about five minutes, dump in one packet of pectin. Immediately ladle the midnight blue liquid into half pint jars, wipe the rims with a clean paper towel, put your lids on and return them to the water bath. A CAVEAT—have a bowl of ice water sitting on the counter. This syrup burns like the lava of Hades, assuming Hades has volcanoes—which I didn't pay any attention to in my one class on ancient Greek myths. Be that as it may, learn from me, people. Be ready to dunk finger tips, forearms and if need be your toes—you all know I am a catastrophe waiting to happen don't you—into an ice slurry. All that being said, TOTALLY WORTH IT.

  The blog was still not back to normal. Whichever of the stupid twins had hijacked her blog hadn't reset the comments to moderated. Cass was floored, and more than a bit gleeful about the number of comments defending her and spilling vitriol unto the new content. A dreadful, utterly useless recipe had been posted that morning

  Roasted Vegetables

  Cut a lot of low carb vegetables up. Eggplants, summer squash, celery, leafy greens, bean sprouts. The size of the pieces doesn't matter. Put them in a pan in lots of layers. Cook them at 350 degrees for forth-five minutes.

  Walla!

  CassCookslean

  Since she couldn't post on the site she took a different tactic. She posted a comment

  "Roasting is one of the most traditional cooking methods there is, it has withstood the test of time. Roasting softens tough fibers which allow the internal qualities of the vegetables to shine through. It caramelizes the sugars causing delicious flavors that can't be gotten any other way. Vegetables must be cut to uniform sizes or you will end up with asteroids of uncooked broccoli swimming in a sea of mushy scorched greens. Brussels sprouts yes, bean sprouts—hell to the no! I can guess who told you that size doesn't matter, but in this application it does. Make sure the baking sheets you are using are not too crowded; you want the liquid to evaporate so that the veggies do not stew. You will need a drizzle of oil to ensure browning. Roasting requires a hot oven. It is an intense process. Be generous with kosher salt and cracked pepper. Roasting is a method that allows the ingredients to become their best selves, no red pepper is ever more red peppery then when it has been roasted. There used to be recipes on this site for wasabi peanut sauce, chimichurri sauce and lemon aioli. Any of these would be delicious with your properly roasted vegetables.

  #I am Cass and I know how to cook

  She scrolled up and was delighted to see that there were at least seventy-five disgruntled readers who were demanding to know where their favorite recipes had gone and when the format would return to the one they liked. Cass enjoyed skimming them.

  There seemed to be quite a few from an HN in Alaska, mostly along the lines of, "Bring the REAL Cass back! We want her excellent recipes--You are not CassCooks!" Cass surprised herself by standing up and hugging her internet benefactor. Hazel was clearly delighted with the gesture of affection. She happily patted Cass on the cheek. "I don't know what's going on, sweetie, but it will all work out."

  One of the other guests, Cass had been absolutely correct—she didn't remember the woman's name—walked into the kitchen to collect the lunch Hazel had packed for a fishing expedition. Hazel opened the basket to show its contents, enormous roast beef sandwiches, coleslaw, drinks and fudgy coconut brownies. The woman clearly knew her way around a pic
nic. When Cass admired the brownies, the tourist, was she the one from New Jersey, delightedly offered her one.

  "Thank you, they look delicious, but just looking at those things is making my thighs wobblier." They both laughed and Cass opened the door for the basket laden guest. She had no sooner shut the door then she turned and crashed into Killian's chest. "My God, you can change a light bulb fast! Want to go fishing this afternoon?" Cass hadn't been fishing since she was eight and her girls scout troop had sat on a dock fishing for blue gills, an outing that had ended with Cass knocking over the bucket of caught fish and then slipping on them and falling into the water thereby scaring away all fish in the vicinity. It had been the beginning of the end of her girl scout days. She was in such high spirits that she was willing to try again.

  "We can, but not yet." He had a half grin and a serious glint in his eye, the man was fiendishly handsome, she decided. He reached for her hand. "What did I say about running yourself down like that?"

  "You said you don't like it. You must have ears like a freaking bat."

  He laughed, but his pull on her elbow was insistent. "What am I going to do with you?" His voice was low and with a hint of mischief.

  She couldn't say the words. Her heart was pounding and the tightness in her chest made her feel like she might faint. She had imagined this all of her life. She had tried to make it happen with other men but they had never moved beyond a few swats as foreplay. Shit. This was real.