The flight was uneventful. She read some, but she just could not get into the book. Jocelyn seemed to be in danger of rape every second on the stagecoach, but somehow instead of feeling for her, Cass was annoyed with her stupidity. She was spanked by the stagecoach driver three pages in. For picking up a rattle snake. She tossed her Kindle down with a flourish. “Yeah right, it’s Montana in the 1800s and she picked up a rattle snake… she doesn’t need a spanking, she needs a bullet in the frontal lobe,” she whispered to her husband.
He leaned close to her, “Harsh coming from a girl who got her first spanking by wandering away from me on a bear watch.”
She was irked. “Not the same AT ALL. I was overcome with the magnificence of my surroundings and I took two steps away from you.” Killian raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s true,” she insisted. “It's not like I picked up baby bear and tried to hand feed it huckleberries.”
He stretched out as much as the airplane seat would let him, which was to say, a very little. “That's true, ‘course you misbehaved before you’d gathered a single berry…”
“I believe you are missing the point of my anecdote, Mr. Nelson.”
She dozed a little bit with her head on Killian's shoulder. He was reading a scientific journal. She could relax since there were no secluded hallways on a plane in the air. She wondered if there was some sort of mile high club for spankos. Better not mention that, she thought. She drank a soda and tried to get comfortable, which was basically impossible. She felt for her lanky husband. He was much taller than she was and if she couldn't get settled, he certainly couldn’t. Of course, he hadn't been spanked with a wooden spoon and a hard hand a few hours previously.
She read a bit more, there was nothing else to do, but she was decidedly underwhelmed. When the “cowboy”” husband arrived, he ended up insisting on spanking the bride he had literally just met in front of the stage coach driver. Ugh. Of course the cowboy turned out to actually be Lord Ruttington. Which somehow made the whole thing okay. Even with all the internal flutterings she was experiencing at the thought of being caught while being spanked, she couldn't imagine her husband taking advice from another man while she was naked over his knee. She also knew damn well that if anyone got cropped (did stagecoach drivers even have crops?) two belts at once, and switched for several hours, they would not be feeling frisky at the end of it. The “wedding night” continued in that vein. Jocelyn had had the right idea by running away from Lord Ruttington/the masked bandit/brutal douchebag. Unfortunately she still ended up with him and seemed happy about it. Cass put her Kindle down. She rocked in her seat enjoying the slight sensation of pressure on her still warm skin.
The Small Airport Hub-bub
They landed in Anchorage and disembarked. They took a shuttle from the main airport to a smaller hub that small planes flew out of. Cass looked around the small bare bones deserted terminal. Killian was grinning, nothing good could come from this, she thought. Or maybe it totally could. They set their bags onto some chairs and sat briefly. Cass was on red alert. There was a ticket window, which had a woman behind it busily playing a game on her phone. No other passengers yet. “I’ll be back in a second,” said Killian and he sauntered off. Cass knew he was scoping out a place with a bit of privacy, and she fervently hoped sound dampening abilities. She was nervous, and thinking that this was a terrible idea. There was no denying the wetness between her legs. Her pantiless state made her even more aware of it. She perched on the edge of her chair and flipped open her lap top, she would contain her nerves by writing a blog post.
CassCooks Blog post
The stuffing conundrum. Okay, so I once spent weeks working out the perfect stuffing recipe. It was not a bad project for a lovelorn girl, comforting, but demanding enough to keep my mind busy. Then I got an email from a certain Alaskan wildlife biologist and everything changed. So, I know how important stuffing is. Love the stuff, in fact. However, there is no way around it—stuffing is evil. It harbors bacteria because it doesn't quickly cook through when nestled in the bosom of our turkey. Take heart, my lovelies- all is not lost. You will make your stuffing, nestle it into a baking dish and then drape chicken wings over the top of it all before you cook it. Wings are cheap—they are also full of fat and collagen so as they cook they render the same richness that being inside your turkey would do. Only this is better since the wings will lend themselves to all of the stuffing, not just the 1/2 cup that you could fit into the cavity AND it won’t have slowly bathed in a not hot enough to destroy salmonella sauna. Win-win. To begin the stuffing, use a small ladle to remove some fat from the pan your turkey is roasting in—do NOT try this with a bulb syringe—wanna know how I know? Turns out boiling liquids will shoot from that contraption like a shark after a skinny dipper, only not as pleasant. It will go everywhere, and if you are lucky enough to be wearing a pair of shoes, you will avoid going to the hospital, but how many pairs of cute clogs have to be sacrificed to this monster? Learn from me, people. You want about one-half cup of fat in the pan—see the exact recipe on the blog. If you want, this can be made days ahead of time—but if it's not days ahead of time and you are up against the wall—have the broth boiling when you add it, it will make it cook much faster. Now—do the chicken wing fandango, I explained above and you are good to go. (Full recipe and technique in index.)
Make Life delicious, Cass
She had just hit “save” when she felt her husband's hand on her shoulder. “Young lady, come with me,” he whispered. She felt butterflies in her stomach and stood up. He took her laptop from her and with his other hand under her elbow led her to a storage room.
“Are we actually going to do this?” she whispered.
“Oh yes we are, darling girl. I told you to buy some food and you didn’t.”
“You said that was my warning,” she playfully protested.
“And then I found this spot and I changed my mind,” he answered. He pressed his back against the door, and tucked her under his left arm. “Put your elbows on the door, honey,” he said. No one could walk in on them, there was some relief in that. Still, she was worried about the noise. “No one is nearby, now is arguing with me a good idea, right now?” Well, the answer to that was a resounding no. So she leaned across him and braced her elbows against the door. He wrapped his arm around her waist and laid her skirt up over her back. He wasted no time in vigorously applying the wooden spoon. It stung and left tiny fireworks in its wake. She shimmied and buckled at the knees. “Now stay still, or it will be worse,” he chided with no sternness in his voice whatsoever. Just as it was beginning to not be fun for Cass, he stopped. How did he always know that? She wondered. He slid his hand between her legs and it took his strong fingers about a minute of tweaking before she came, burying her moans in her own hands. She caught her breath. Turning around, she dropped to her knees, he had somehow already gotten himself unzipped. She pulled him into her mouth sucking hard while his hands gathered up her hair. She swirled her tongue around his cockhead, willing him to come in her mouth. He did and then it was his turn for his knees to buckle in pleasure. “Goddamn, baby” he muttered. “I know,” she responded, smoothing her skirt over her hips. “You were a genius for marrying me!”
They peered around the door as they left, hoping no one was in the hall. They didn't see anyone, but they did see the head of a mop cleaning the floor around the corner at the end of the hall. Had the person operating the mop heard them? Cass gave a sharp intake of breath. With no one else here, they couldn't exactly blend into the crowd. Killian as always kept his cool. He held her hand and confidently walked back out to the main terminal. She was a genius for marrying him.
The flight to Homer, cost more than their flights from Chicago, and it only took forty-five minutes. It wasn't a tiny plane, and Cass was grateful for that since those made her nervous. It seated maybe fifty people. She wondered if her ass was glowing through her dress. She felt like a boss as she walked down the aisle to her seat.
CassCook
s Blog post
Hi friends,
We are home in Slick Trench. The ferry was chilly and beautiful and we saw the largest whale I have ever seen. Such majesty. Hazel met us and we all want to survive so we had Killian drive. Hazel sort of views traffic signs as a general suggestion. We got home to discover Italian sausage with peppers and onions in red sauce and cheesy polenta. Booyah. (Recipe in index.)
Perfect for a chilly November night, washed down with red wine with the fireplace blazing.
I already miss my mom and dad and Jen. It is awesome to be home with Hazel, though. As always, she is moving at 6,000 miles an hour. It is amazing to watch her and Lloyd be cute newlyweds. The new building is underway, and a good thing too since our first wedding will be in early December.
Make life delicious, Cass
Because they had upcoming weddings, they had a very tight construction plan for the new building on the lodge’s grounds. It was a reasonable plan, in fact, a very good plan. Unfortunately, nothing had gone according to it. The outside of the new building was to have been completed by mid October. It was now Mid November and the roof was not on yet. This is a problem in chilly damp Alaska. Short daylight hours meant that they had generators running at all hours to provide light and warmth for the construction workers. Enormous blue tarps covered the framework. Killian could not look at this without becoming livid. He was annoyed with his brother Torsten for how behind the project was and Torsten thought Killian had no business jumping in and being critical mid stream. Cass had never known them to disagree and it made everyone uncomfortable.
“Look, what do you think I could have done?” Torsten yelled in exasperation.
“You have to watch these people every minute, can’t give them an inch,” Killian responded. Cass smiled to herself. Six months in Chicago and her husband believed he was an expert on the lazy underbelly of humanity. The situation was made worse since the restaurant grade appliances had been delivered and were stored in the dining room of the main lodge. To get in or out you needed to press yourself against a wall and inch your way out. The morning after they had arrived home, no one showed up to work on the roof. Killian was on the phone demanding to know when people would arrive. He was furiously leaving the fifth message in as many minutes, when he flipped off his phone and said to Cass, “Fuck it, I know where that idiot is—he’s watching cartoons at his mother's house. Why the hell did Torsten hire him?”
Cass didn't dare mention that it was the only roofing company anywhere near their town and it was owned by one of the Nelson cousins. “I’m going to go find the dickhead.” Killian stalked to his jeep and stormed away. Cass had flipped open her laptop to begin her post about gravy when the doorbell at the gate rang. Cass used the intercom, the voice on the other end said, “Marble company delivery.” The truck was full of the beautiful marble counters for the bars and the baking island of the new kitchen. It was gorgeous and had cost a fortune, and they had nowhere to put it.
She tried to explain the problem to the truck driver, but he didn't seem to see the humor in the situation. “Sorry, lady. I’ve got other deliveries to make. If you don't take it now, you’ll be charged an extra delivery fee.”
“Oh, okay—like how much?”
“To deliver here?” he looked around his environs in the middle of exactly nowhere. “$750.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She was certain that Killian would not appreciate an additional $750 on top of what was already a ridiculously expensive expansion of the family business. She led him to one of the guest cabins, which was already filled to bursting with plumbing supplies, the hardwood floor in pieces and stacks of drywall. The driver and a man who had apparently been hiding in the passenger seat used a dolly to carry the impossibly heavy slabs of marble to the “Staging” cabin. She braced herself for her husband’s fury when he returned. It wasn't that he was angry with her, but this whole situation was making him crazy. He had mixed feelings (at best) about altering his father's original vision for the family business, and every obstacle seemed to make him more upset. She decided to make lunch, figuring a livid Killian with a full stomach was less dangerous than a hungry one.
CassCooks Blog Post - Wild Rice and Wild Roofers
We take a break from our series on Thanksgiving because sometimes even the holiday cook needs succor and soothing. And people roofing a building in the cold, sure as hell do... To wit—Chicken and wild rice soup (see recipe index.)
This is a snap to make if you live somewhere where you can get one of those rotisserie chickens in your supermarket. They are everywhere—except here. Woe is me. (See recipe for how to perfectly poach chicken breasts.)
The soup is rich and warming and—it doesn't keep well, but it’s a nice soup to have up your sleeve as the weather turns. Here in Slick Trench it’s barely fifty degrees most days. We continue with the project to build a new lodge that will allow us to host larger weddings (which you can watch on The White Gown Network beginning in January.) You will not believe how beautiful the new wedding hall will be. You all need to come visit us and see it!
Keep lunch delicious—Cass
Her soup was at a nice low simmer, thick and richly fragrant when Killian's jeep arrived, followed immediately by his brother’s truck. The yelling penetrated the thick walls of the building. Cass had never heard them light into each other like this. Killian was calling his brother irresponsible and stupid. Torsten was pointing out that Killian had not been there and needed to shut the fuck up.
“No, YOU shut the fuck up!” Killian roared. The men circled each other. They were both athletic and strong. A childhood spent sparring with each other meant that a fight between the two of them would not be pretty. Suddenly a tiny woman in jeans and orange crocs catapulted out of one of the cabins. Hazel had heard the whole thing, and those boys might as well have been four and six for the way they froze at her approach. The two large, rangy men froze at their diminutive mother’s approach. Cass could have sworn she heard her husband whisper, “Oh fuck” and his brother mutter, “Way to go, Ace.”
“Now look, you two, I have had it with this fighting. We don't have time for this. We have a lodge to finish.”
“We had a finished lodge,” yelled Killian. Cass had never heard him raise his voice to his mother. The fiery Hazel astonished them all by quietly beginning to cry and turning away from her sons.
“You asshole!” bellowed Torsten, shoving his brother. “Ma! Ma come back here. He didn't mean it.”
Killian wasn't done. “I did mean it. I sure as fuck did! The lodge was fine! It was great, Dad was so proud of it.” His voice had lowered by the end, anger giving way to sorrow. Cass felt his pain and although he never would, she began to cry for both of them. For the father-in-law she had never known, who Killian missed every day of his life.
Hazel had already gathered him into her generous bosom by the time Cass made it outside. For a split second Cass could see them as mother and boy. Hazel put her hands on both sides of his face and fiercely said, “Now you listen to me, Killian Marcus Nelson, I am proud of it too. The only thing I’m prouder of is you three kids.” Cass realized with a thrill that Hazel was counting her as one of her kids. “But, times change. We are adding to the lodge; we aren't taking anything away. You are building on the legacy you were given.”
Killian nodded, his throat to full to speak. Torsten patted his brother on the back and Cass boldly nudged into the hug. Killian had gathered his thoughts. “All right—so Eddie is a stoned moron who couldn't put a roof on his own ass with both hands.”
Hell of a visual, thought Cass. Torsten said, “I just got clearance to take two weeks off from the parks service.” Torsten was a ranger and couldn't take time off until his replacement was near. Killian nodded. Apparently, something was settled, Cass was not sure what.
“All right then,” said Killian, “let’s build us a goddamn roof.”
Cass had learned that there was nothing an Alaskan man couldn't do when he set his mind to it, but a roof seemed
like a tremendous undertaking. Hazel said, “I’ll call some people.” Over lunch the brothers discussed the best way to go about it. The shingles were already at the lodge, as well as nails. Before she had the lunch dishes washed, the boys (as their mother still called them) were welding together pipes to make a scaffold. It was astonishing how fast it all began to come together. Once they were working, the animosity between the brothers faded away. Cass could hear them whistling as they hammered away when she took them cold drinks.
“Babe, where are you shoes?” her husband demanded.
“It’s not that cold out.” She was lying, it was totally that cold out. Putting on her shoes had seemed like too much trouble.
He rolled his eyes at her in a way which if she had dared to him would have gotten her bottom set ablaze. “We’re roofing,” he said, as if that explained anything.
“I know you are. I can see you.”
“Nails, babe. We are dropping nails all over the damn place. Do we even know when your last tetanus shot was?”
“I won't step on anything.”
Killian accepted the coke from her hand and said, “No one ever plans to step on a nail. Do not come out here without your hiking boots on.”
She had bought those boots in the Anchorage airport and they were too small. She hated them, she had planned on buying a different pair. When she had been offered her show, they had returned to Chicago so hiking boots had ceased to be a priority. “You are going to get awfully thirsty waiting for me to put on those boots,” she said with a laugh.
“Whatever, don’t come out here without them on.” Killian leaned forward and kissed her cheek and whispered, “I will make that wooden spoon look like a feather.”
Rare: A BBW Romance (The Cass Chronicles Book 4) Page 4
