“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”
I grin. “There are real napkins on the table. I’m pretty sure the food will be of high quality too.”
“Yeah, I need to be honest with you, Birdy. When I went over to my neighbor, Micah, to borrow an iron, his wife, Lauren, shoved these napkins into my hands. She said they’d impress you, even though they’re basically fabric rectangles.”
I laugh. “Well, Lauren was right. I’m impressed.”
“Good. Now eat.”
I take a bite, and it’s amazing. The salmon is perfectly cooked, and the vegetables have that slightly caramelized sweetness that only happens when someone actually knows what they’re doing.
“Did you cook a lot in the military?” I ask.
“No. Learned after.” He cuts into his salmon. “Lots of time up here. Had to do something with it.”
“So you took cooking lessons?”
“Yeah, lots of good stuff on YouTube,” he says.
I smile. “Really? The man who chases bears off his property learned to cook from YouTube?”
He shrugs. “Of course.”
“You’re not what I expected, Jude.”
He looks up at that. “What did you expect?”
“Someone scarier,” I say. “You seemed very intimidating when you were looming over me while I was on the ground.”
“You were in shock. Everything seems intimidating when you’re in shock.”
“You’re still pretty intimidating. Just less than I thought. I mean, you’re sweet and all, but really big and tall and—”
I stop myself because I sound like a blabbering idiot.
“Good to know,” he says with a wink.
We fall into an easy rhythm after that. We spend the rest of dinner talking and refilling the wine, and I keep waiting for it to get awkward, for one of those silences that stretch too long and make you desperately search for something to say. But it doesn’t happen. We talk about Timber Peak Valley, about the seasons up here, and about the way the mountain looks in winter when thesnow comes in properly and everything goes completely quiet. He asks about my family, and I tell him about my parents, three hundred miles away, who call every Sunday without fail and still treat me like I might need reminding to wear a coat.
“They sound like good people,” he says.
“They’re the best,” I say. “Embarrassing and wonderful in equal measure.”
“And you moved away anyway.”
“I needed to find my own thing.” I turn my wine glass slowly in my hands. “Still working on that part.”
“You’ve got time,” he says.
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Birdy, you’ve got time.”
He says it like it’s not even up for debate.
“You know, the only time I feel like I’m actually on some sort of right track is when I’m talking about plants. Nell calls me an encyclopedia. She asks me questions she already knows the answer to, I think, just to watch me go on a tangent about seedling care or growing cycles.” I shake my head and smile. “I don’t know if that counts as a calling or just a party trick.”
Jude is quiet for a moment. “What happens when you explain something to someone who doesn’t know it yet?”