Free Finally Home by Lois Greiman

here al—” Her voice stopped as she appeared in the kitchen and caught sight of Colt in the apron.
    â€œWhat do you think?” he asked, lifting his arms higher. He’d rolled the sleeves of his corduroy shirt away from his wrists, which were corded with muscle and ridiculously appealing. Emily squelched a sigh.
    â€œI think you missed your calling.”
    â€œI should have been a chef?”
    â€œYou should have been a housewife.”
    He chuckled. The sound, low and fertile, rolled like distant thunder through the kitchen, stopping Emily’s breath for a moment, but when she glanced at Casie, she realized she wasn’t the only one affected. The other woman’s eyes were wide, her lips slightly parted. Emily struggled with her grin and turned away, but Casie found her voice in a moment.
    â€œI thought we were having steak,” she said.
    â€œI thought so, too, but apparently fifty percent of our guests are vegetarian,” Colt said.
    â€œOh no.”
    â€œOh yes,” Emily countered.
    â€œWhat now?”
    â€œColt says he knows his mom’s recipe for egg strata.”
    â€œ Says I know. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Em.”
    â€œOur reputation rides on these guests. You’re only as good as your last satisfied—”
    â€œMan, it’s colder than the ice age out there,” Sophie said and unceremoniously entered the kitchen. Why, Emily wondered, did she always look like she’d just stepped off the pages of Vogue ? “Is the coffee on or should I—” She paused as she glanced around. “What’s going on?”
    â€œShe’s a vegetarian,” Casie said.
    â€œWho? Bliss?”
    â€œGeez!” Emily said. “Everyone’s a comedian. This isn’t funny.”
    Sophie pulled the knit cap off her head and stared at Colt’s frilly apron. “It kind of is.”
    â€œYou don’t like it?” he asked and pirouetted a little.
    For a second not a female breath was drawn as their gazes shifted to lower regions.
    â€œWhat?” he asked, scowling as he noticed their expressions.
    â€œNothing!” Casie said, and clearing her throat, turned away, already blushing.
    Emily managed to refrain from pumping her fist in the air. “Beat up another egg, will you, Colt? Soph, I need some more Parmesan grated,” she said and scowled. “Why didn’t I learn to make my own cheese?”
    â€œBecause you only have two hands,” Colt suggested. “Well, you know, besides our six.”
    For the next ten minutes they worked in concert.
    â€œTell me again why we’re sweating bullets over one guest,” Sophie said. Her hands were covered in flour. A little dusted her hair.
    â€œSo we don’t starve to death over the winter,” Emily said.
    â€œOh.” Sophie made a “makes sense” expression. “Good reson.”
    Ty showed up a few minutes later and set the table as Colt mixed up Lumpkin’s milk. She bleated hopefully from the living room. But true to his gregarious nature, Colt carried her back into the kitchen to feed her. Far be it from him to be out of the action . . . or maybe . . . Emily glanced wistfully toward Casie. Maybe there was something else that brought him back.
    Whatever the case, everyone bumped knees and elbows as they passed the chair where he sat. But Lumpkin didn’t take long to finish a bottle anymore. In a matter of minutes Colt was rising, stowing the lamb under one arm just as a knock sounded at the door.
    Emily let in their guests.
    â€œIt smells terrific in here,” Max said.
    â€œYes, it . . .” Sonata began, but then she caught sight of Lumpkin. “Is that a . . .”
    They all waited.
    â€œI believe it’s a lamb,” Max said.
    â€œIn the house?”
    â€œPretty cold outside for newborns,” Colt said, and settling Lumpkin under his other arm, stuck out his right hand. “Hi. I’m Colt