CHAPTER 46
“The secret to rice pudding is adding the sugar at just the right time, and then, adding a little warm milk to the egg before adding the egg to the milk or it will scramble.” Piper read the directions out loud as she stirred. “This better be good,” she murmured, glancing at the clock, “because it’s taking forever.” Ten minutes later, she was still stirring when Nat came into the kitchen. “What’s for supper?” he asked, looking over her shoulder.
“I don’t know because I’m too busy making dessert.”
“Is that what I think it is?!” Nat asked, raising his eyebrows.
“That depends on what you think it is,” Piper said.
“Why don’t we just have that for supper?”
“Because you’d be missing out on several other major food groups.”
“How about pizza? Does that cover the other food groups?”
“Not really.”
“Why not?” he asked, sounding indignant. “There’s tomato for the vegetable group, sausage for the meat group, cheese for the dairy group, and crust for the grain group—it sounds pretty balanced to me.” He opened the fridge and reached for a beer. “And we could have beer just to throw in some additional grain for the base of the pyramid.”
“Beer is in your grain group?”
“Yes—it has oats and barley,” he said as if it should be obvious. “Not to mention what you’re making—rice is a grain and milk is a dairy . . . and, if you add raisins, that’s a fruit. It doesn’t get any more balanced than that.”
She shook her head. “You do know that the food pyramid from our childhood has been completely debunked?”
“It has?” Nat frowned. “And to think, all these years I’ve been making sure I had an abundant supply of grain in my diet.”
“Yeah, and you’re still skinny as a rail,” she said with a hint of envy.
“That’s because I have a great metabolism.”
“I know,” Piper said. “Elias has the same metabolism.”
“Speaking of Elias . . . where is our boy?” Nat said, wrapping his arms around her.
“He went camping with the guys.”
“That’s right! I forgot. How do you know he’s camping with just guys?”
“Because that’s what he said,” Piper said, slipping out of his arms.
“Where’re you going?” he asked, sounding wounded.
“I have to add sugar,” she said, reaching for her measuring cup. “Could you keep stirring?”
Nat picked up the spoon and stirred while Piper measured a third of a cup of sugar and poured it into the hot milk and rice. “Keep stirring,” she said.
“I’m only too happy to stir in your sugar,” he teased with a grin.
“Very funny,” she said, rolling her eyes as she consulted her laptop. She spooned some of the hot milk and rice into the beaten egg and then added it, too.
Nat glanced at her laptop. “I thought you wanted to make the rice pudding from your mom’s cookbook.”
“I did, but I keep forgetting to borrow it from Remy, and now she’s away, so I thought I’d give this recipe a try—it has over three thousand reviews.”
“Is that a lot?”
“It’s a ridiculous amount,” she said, turning the burner off and adding a teaspoon of vanilla, a tablespoon of butter, and a quarter cup of golden raisins.
Nat stepped back, watching as she took over. “Well, anyway, would you like to order a pizza since it’s just the two of us?”
“That’s fine,” Piper said. “The Fourth is next weekend and we really need to start getting ready.”
“It’s next weekend?”
“It is,” Piper said, looking up. “Why?”
“Because the aquarium called and said the female loggerhead we rescued is doing much better and will probably be ready to be released by next weekend.”
“Not on the holiday, though. . . .”
“Well, it’s up to us, but we’ll have her back out here by then. They said they’ll call when she’s ready to be picked up.”
Piper nodded. “All the more reason we need to get this place straightened up—in case I don’t have your help next week.” She held out a spoonful of rice pudding and he tasted it. “Mmm, it’s still hot, though.”
Piper finished the spoonful and nodded. “It is hot!”
“I told you,” he said. “Didn’t you believe me?”
“I believed you,” she said, taking a sip of his beer. “I just wasn’t sure if your idea of hot was the same as mine . . . and I think I burned my tongue.”
“Let me see,” he said, motioning for her to stick out her tongue. “Hmm, it’s a little red. Oh, by the way,” he said, frowning. “I keep meaning to ask you what that sex manual is doing on my bureau.”
“It was on the cookbook shelf.”
“I didn’t know we had a copy.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Don’t you remember the time we drank a whole bottle of Boone’s Farm and I showed it to you . . . and you wanted to try . . .”
Nat’s face lit up and he laughed. “I do remember,” he said, sipping his beer. “Why don’t we go see if we can find that page again?”
“What about pizza? I thought you were hungry.”
“I am hungry. . . .” he murmured, handing her his beer and pulling her toward him.
“I really have a lot to do,” she murmured in protest.
“It can wait,” he whispered. “And I will help you.”
“Yeah, right,” she said skeptically, taking a sip of his beer.
“I will . . . Promise.”
He led her toward the stairs and as she passed the newel post, she reached for it. “I really think we should get started now.”
“I’m already started,” Nat said with a grin.
“I don’t mean that.”
“Elias isn’t here so we should take advantage of the moment.”
“What if he forgot something and comes home?”
“He didn’t forget anything.”
“Where’s Chloe?”
“Asleep on the couch.”
Piper realized she was running out of excuses and reluctantly let go of the post. “You know,” she said, as he led her up the stairs, “if I lie down, I’m going to fall asleep.”
“No, you’re not,” he said, retrieving the book from the top of his bureau.
“Yes, I am.” She lay across the bed and pretended to start snoring.
Nat sat next to her and started to leaf through the pages. “What page was it on? Do you remember?”
“I don’t remember, hon, it was like forty years ago,” she said sleepily.
“Hmm,” Nat said. “Look at this one. . . .”
Piper rolled to her side, wishing she’d left the book on the cookbook shelf, then looked at the page. “Interesting,” she said, smiling and sliding her hand along his thigh. “What’s wrong with the good old missionary position?”
“Nothing’s wrong with it,” Nat said, pretending to study the page.
“You should be happy to be getting any action at all,” she said, sliding her hand up his thigh.
“I am happy,” he said, trying to suppress a grin.
“Well, if you don’t hurry up, I’m going to fall asleep.”
Nat closed the book and tossed it to the floor. “The missionary position it is,” he said, laughing and rolling on top of her.