I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a Sunday dinner so much, but the second the big hand on the dining room clock hits eleven, Gran jumps up.
“It’s almost eight o’clock. I can’t miss my show. We’ll have to clean up afterwards.”
She hustles into the den, Molly on her heels, asking, “Who do you think is going to be eliminated this week?”
“I hope the handsome one makes the top ten,” Gran says, a little too breathlessly.
“I think it’ll be the guy from Boston,” Lia says with an uncharacteristic giggle. “He kind of fell apart last week.”
“Do you know what they’re talking about?” I ask Diane as I stack plates, figuring I’ll do the dishes.
She cranes her head through the doorway so she can see the TV before turning back. “It’s that new reality cooking show, Yes, Chef! Ethel’s obsessed with it.”
Colleen takes the plates from me and heads for the kitchen. “You’re not a fan, I take it?” I ask, following her with an armful of glasses.
“Nope,” my twin says, popping the ending p of the word aggressively.
When I return to the dining room to pick up more dirty dishes, Diane is leaning in the doorway, watching the TV from across the hall. Crossing to stand next to her, I watch as the lineup of contestants is introduced. I give her a kiss on the cheek and then a swat on the bum. “Go on and join them. I’m not threatened by hot chefs, because I know you’re coming home with me.”
She turns, twining her arms around my neck and leaning in to whisper in my ear. “Did you fill up the ice trays before we left the apartment?”
“You know I did,” I whisper. “And have I got plans for you.”
Ready for more of Bedd Fellows Farm?
Up next is Bringing Home the Bacon by Erin Mallon.
Everyone thinks Colleen's the sweetest member of the family, until she falls for a sizzlin' hot chef…
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BRINGING HOME THE BACON
by Erin Mallon
CHAPTER ONE
Colleen
“Colleen Bedd, is that you?” a familiar voice calls out the moment I enter The Quick Lick, the only convenience store in our small farming town.
Ugh. Running into my former best friend every time I need basic necessities is anything but convenient. Especially this morning, when all I want to do is get in, get out and get on the road.
“Ginny, you saw me here on Tuesday afternoon,” I say as I inch my way toward the snack aisle. “And the Friday before that. Why do you always greet me like I’m a weary world traveler home at last?”
I may be weary, but not because I’ve been traveling. I can’t remember the last time I left the county, let alone the country. Ever since my grandad died and we learned how screwed our farm is on the financial front, I’ve been glued to my grandmother’s side. I may as well be one of the soybean stalks planted in the ground at Bedd Family Farm.
But at least they get harvested annually.
Me? My roots are permanent.
Thank god I get a temporary change of scenery today. I can’t get my butt on that bus fast enough. I just need to survive another Ginny encounter first.
Ginny abandons her perch at the cashier stand to follow me past the pretzels and potato chips. “I miss you, girl! That's all I’m trying to say. Come on, gimme the scoop. You used to tell me everything!”
I grab a bag of trail mix and toss it in my basket, some last-minute fuel for the three-hour ride to NYC. “Well, I’m heading into the city today for—”
“The Fork Lick Elementary teacher trip. Right, right.” She sounds bored and doesn’t even take a pause before panting, “How’s Samuel?”
There it is.
She wasn’t actually asking what’s new with me. She wants to know about my brother.
Scratch what I said a moment ago about Ginny being my former best friend. That was too generous. She’s demoted. Ginny Quick shall now forever be known as “The Girl Who Dated My Hot Twin For a Hot Split Second in High School and Has Spent the Better Part of the Last Eight Years Relentlessly Probing Me for Information on Him.”
I realize that title needs some work, but the sentiment is sound.
Damn, this shit is irritating. And insulting too. I’d like to think that having four hot brothers is the least interesting thing about me, yet that seems to be the only aspect of my life anyone ever wants to talk about.
Particularly the ladies.
If it’s not Ginny pining over her unrequited love with Sam, it’s the women at Tiddy’s Bar cackling over how Alex can “make them Udderly Creamy any day” while I struggle not to lose my lunch. In fairness, Udderly Creamy is the name of Alex’s farm, so he brought this inappropriate attention on himself, but the fact remains that he did me no favors as his little sister.
Oh, and my broody brother Ethan? He screws up my social life too. One time in ninth grade, I invited a bunch of girls over to Gran’s house to work on a Shakespeare project, and we got absolutely nothing done. Why, you ask? Because they took one look at my sweaty oldest brother entering the kitchen after working the land with Grandad, and then spent the afternoon launching a fan club instead: Elizabethans for Ethans. That was a dark day in young Colleen’s life.
