Forever's Embrace (Forever In Luck Series Book 2) (10 page)

Standing,
she made her way off the plane.

CHAPTER
6

They
were deep into the second period of their ice hockey game against Siren, when
Nate smacked Jake with his stick between plays and motioned for him to look to the
stands. Holy hell, she was here. She was here! Jake couldn’t help it, he howled
a cheer of triumph as he skated into position. He was psyched. She’d come! He
looked to the scoreboard, less than two minutes till the end of the period,
then he’d have a ten minute break. Yes!

The
puck dropped and was across the center line with Siren heading for a goal,
before being deflected and taken over by Luck. On the offensive, and working
down into Siren’s zone, Jake played right wing. Taking control of the puck after
Nate slapped it from the point and missed, he feigned left, then right, then
left again, before skating in front of the crease and smacking the puck. SCORE!
Taking accolades from his teammates and spectators alike, he lined up for the
faceoff. Thirty four seconds to go… Soon the buzzer sounded, ending the period.
Finally!

Ripping
off his gloves and helmet as he flew to the boards, he was up and over them in
a flash. Heading up the stands, he clomped his way to her, not giving a care to
the damage he was doing to his blades. Reaching her, he pulled her up and threw
his arms around her, lifting her right off the ground, then kissed her soundly
to the whoops, hollers, and whistles of the surrounding crowd.

Holding
her tight, he looked at her, and couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear. Man,
she beautiful! Speaking softly, he said, “I can’t believe I’m holding you right
now. Thank you for coming.”

“Nice
deke for a right winger, Albrecht,” she responded in amusement.

Jake
nearly fell to his knees. He would die worshiping this woman. She knew hockey!
Holy hell, if football was Kris’s language of love, hockey was his, and she was
speaking his language. Why should he be surprised? This was indicative of her.
“You like hockey, bebis?”

She
giggled, and gave him a quick bow of the head. “Mmmhmm, I’ve got this thing for
a right winger with brown hair and eyes, a five o’clock shadow, lots of big,
strong muscles, and the cutest little behind out there. In fact, I’m saving all
my kisses for him.”

She
was adorable. “I’ll take one of those kisses now, if you don’t mind.”

“Well,
I don’t mind, but Marty might,” she said, with a grin. Her eyes alight with
humor.

What?
Who the hell was Marty? “Marty?” he snapped, as she looked up at him with
devilment in her eyes. She was playing with his head again.

“Yep,”
she said pertly. “Martin Havlat, number twenty-four with the Chicago
Blackhawks. He’s a hottie.” Then she busted out laughing.

The
little trollop. First, she says she likes all of the Bears team, and now that
upstart Havlat. Hah! “Listen up, buttercup, Havlat’s out, as are the Bears. I’m
claiming this territory. Now, give me one of those fantastic kisses of yours,
before I steal one for myself.”

She
nibbled on her bottom lip, then answered, “Alright, just one, then you’ll have
to earn the rest. I want to see some fancy footwork on the ice, mister.”
Running her hands up his chest and behind his neck, she pulled him to her,
laying on him one of those mind numbing, head spinning kisses. Wow! More cheers
from the crowd.

“Hey
Albrecht, save it for later, get your rear in gear. We need you scoring on the
ice, not off it. Now, move it,” one of his teammates yelled.

The
crowd started laughing.

He
didn’t mind. “I love your kisses. Give me thirty minutes, then I’ll be done.
Okay?” he said, setting her down.

“Let’s
go, Romeo,” he heard another of the guys yell.

More
and bigger laughter from the crowd.

She
laughed too, then nodded. “Get going. The guys look like they’re having too
much fun teasing you. They’re dancing around like fairies, blowing kisses, and
acting like lovebirds.”

The
crowd started roaring. “I’m going to kick their asses.” He gave her a quick
peck on the cheek, before turning and clomping his way back down to the ice.
Stopping part way, he turned back to see her standing there watching him. “When
do you go back?” he hollered.

The
crowd roared with laughter, then began chanting, Albrecht, Albrecht,
Albrecht...

“Early
Tuesday,” she answered, yelling so he could hear over the din.

Six
days, he had six days with her. He was so damn happy he was about to burst his
buttons. He nodded, then grabbed his equipment and headed onto the ice to the
cheers and whistles of the crowd. It was time to kick some ass.

*****

Standing
at the kitchen counter, Jules poured thick, rich cream into the food processor.
One of the benefits of being on a dairy farm, she thought. As much fresh whole
milk you wanted, or needed, to create wonderful and delicious things. Turning
the food processor on high, she stepped to the fridge and pulled out the
sausages and eggs. Looking around inside, she found an onion and an apple.
Setting it all on the counter, she washed and quickly sliced several potatoes
super thin, along with the onion, and the apple.

Stopping
the food processor, she pulled out what was now a ball of unsalted butter.
Perfect, she thought. Putting some of it into a large sauté pan, she clarified
it, then poured it off and washed the pan so she could use it to assembled a
beautiful potato galette, complete with some thyme and rosemary for flavor, and
a generous drizzling of clarified butter along the sides and over the top for a
crispy crunchy crust.

Placing
it on the burner, she began humming as she went about cracking eggs. She loved
to cook, always had, and if it would’ve offered the type of financial security
that being a pharmacist had, it would’ve been her chosen profession. After all,
culinary arts could be considered part of the fine arts, which was her most
favorite area of study. Not to mention, cooking was just another form of
chemistry, and all pharmacists were good in chemistry. So, in other words,
cooking was doubly perfect in her book.

She
was so happy. There was no other way to describe what she was feeling. Last
night had been wonderful. After the hockey game, they stopped at Flying Pie
Pizza in Luck, and the Bottle shop on Main, then on to the farm for pizza and
beer by a fire as they watched TV and snuggled on the couch. Later, Jake
crawled into bed with her, and they cuddled for much of the night, before he
left in the early morning hours.

Quickly
turning the sausages, she checked the galette, before stirring the egg mixture
and adding it to a saucepan she’d now coated with fresh butter. The guys would
be in from milking soon, and she hoped they liked what she was making for
breakfast. Linnie and Nate had left early to attend meetings at the VA and
wouldn’t be returning until later that night, so Jules had happily offered to
be the cook for the day. She planned to do it big. Humming, she stirred the
eggs, then began to set the table, and as she did, she started having doubts.
What if they don’t like what I’ve cooked? Her heart began to pound, and she
started to panic. It’s too late to cook something different. What am I going to
do?

The
front door opened and the guys started filing in, heading straight to the wash
room to clean up. She quickly dished up the food and was setting a platter
covered with warmed lussekatter buns on the table when Jake walked in. Smiling
wide when he saw her, he walked over and gave her a quick hug, as they all came
in and sat at the table.

No
one moved, they just sat there staring at the food she’d prepared, and she
wanted to die. Why hadn’t she just made plain old American cuisine? What had
she been thinking? Had she lost her mind? She hoped this wasn’t a trend. She’d
acted irrationally the last time she was here too.

Trying
to swallow the lump in her throat, she said weakly, “The, ah, little dish by
Kris has sweet cream butter in it, if you, ah, prefer it to the salted stick
butter.”

Their
heads lifted, and they all leaned as they peered across the table at the dish.

“You
made…butter?” Kris said incredulously, while blinking at the dish in front of
him.

She
nodded. “Yes, I, ah, needed clarified butter for the potato galette.”

Nik
snapped his head towards her, dropping his eyebrows down low. “You made sweet
butter, and clarified butter…for breakfast?”

Oh
Lord, what had she done? It was just butter for heaven’s sake. “Umm, yes,” she
answered in a whisper, as she looked down at her hands. She wanted to crawl
under the table and hide. They began to dish up, and she wanted to tell them to
stop. “You, ah, don’t need to eat anything you don’t like. It won’t hurt my
feelings,” she offered.

If
they’d heard her, she didn’t know. Jake dished her up, as bowls and plates went
around the table. Taking her fork, she quickly tested everything. It tasted
fine to her, thank God. Why were they acting so weird? She better change her
plans for the dinner menu. After taking a few bites, throats were being
cleared, and she heard a strangled scream from Nik.

“STOP!
Don’t eat it,” she said, with alarm. “I should’ve cooked it the way you’re used
to it being cooked.”

“Are
you nuts?” Nik responded, looking at her like she’d lost her mind. “This tastes
so damn good, I plan to lick my plate when I’m done!” Then he grabbed the eggs
and put more on his plate, and they all began passing the dishes around again
in a bid to get more.

She
fell back in her chair with a stuttering breath, her heart pounding like a
jackhammer. She felt like she’d just run a marathon. Her hand trembled as she
reached for her fork. Jake slid his hand over and gave her knee a squeeze.
There was that overwhelming urge to hide in the bend of his neck again, and
darned if she didn’t almost do it.

“Jules,
I agree with Nik, this tastes fantastic,” Karl said, between bites. “Tell us a
little about what we’re eating.”

Setting
her fork down because it felt like it weighed fifty pounds, she explained,
“The, ah, potato galette is French inspired. You need clarified butter in order
to cook it at higher temperatures, in an effort to get a crispy outside and
tender middle without burning it. I added a touch of thyme and rosemary for
flavor and appeal commensurate with the apple and onion. The scrambled eggs are
also French inspired, made with fresh cream and unsalted butter, then flavored
with fresh herbs at the end. The lussekatter are a Swedish pastry, and a
tradition at Christmas time. I stopped by the bakery yesterday before leaving
Chicago, and picked some up. I make them with Kesella. The sausages are
breakfast sausage Linnie bought and I cooked.

After
licking his fork, Nik asked, “How’d you learn to cook like this?”

“The
all girl’s school I attended taught culinary arts, and Nana taught me in the
Swedish tradition. As I enjoy cooking, I’ve taken more cooking classes as time
has allowed. I just haven’t had much need to cook, so I’m a little unsure.”

Reaching
for another lussekatter, Jake’s dad asked, “What’s Kesella?”

“It’s
kind of like a cross between cream cheese, cottage cheese, and yogurt. You
can’t get it in the States because it’s a raw milk product, but I’ve played
around with the pasteurized stuff, and have come up with a near similar
substitute. In Swedish, Kesella stands for curd cream, but it’s more popularly
known as Quark throughout Europe.” Okay, they were all staring openly at her
like she’d sprouted horns and a tail. She needed to shut up, they were the
dairy experts, not her.

Jake
cleared his throat. “You said you stopped at the bakery and picked up the
rolls, then you said you make them with Kesella. So, which is it? Did you get
them at the bakery, or did you make them?”

She
smiled and looked down at her hands. “Both.”

“What?!
I thought you said you used to work there?”

“I
did, when I was in high school. Now, I just go back and help make some of the
more traditional baked goods popular at Christmas and the Midsummer holiday,
when the bakery’s at its busiest.”

Jake
looked at her in stunned disbelief as the rest of them chuckled.

“What?”
she said, looking back at him, “I told you I liked to cook.” Turning away from
her, she watched as his jaw clenched.

Gathering
another bite, he spoke, his words strained, “Linnie told us you were making supper
tonight. Do you have everything you need?”

She
nodded, then realized he couldn’t see her. “I think so. I, ah, was going to
make some traditional Swedish dishes, but I’m...we should just have hamburgers
or something.”

“NO!”
They all said at once, scaring her and making her jump, causing her to lose her
fork in the process. Kris was shaking his head, and Nik, finished up quick
with, “We want Swedish!”

“Okay,”
she answered, feeling uncertain. “You all go back to your cow stuff, and let me
get back to work then. I’ll clean this up.”

None
of them listened. They got up and started clearing the table and loading the
dishwasher. One began washing the pots, while another wiped off the table and
counters. The kitchen was clean within a matter of minutes. Then they all filed
out with the exception of Jake. He simply stood there solemnly looking at her.