Almost

Chapter 59: Brine

Katherine and Ezra stood at the counter, a wooden cutting board and a wide selection of fruit, meat, and cheese between them. Smithwick was curled on back of the couch, eyeing them as they maneuvered around the kitchen. Corliss was out back hunting, enjoying the familiar trees.

"I just don't know that a charcuterie board screams serious business," Ezra said, looking at it suspiciously.

"It doesn't need to say 'serious business,' it needs to say 'friendly favor.' And who doesn't love a charcuterie board?"

"I just think—"

"You're just mad that it involved no cooking, and you can't show off," Katherine rebuked him, half joking as she fanned perfectly cut triangles of cheese around a bowl of almonds.

"I don't need to cook to show off, Katiebird," Ezra reminded her, his eyes narrowing as the corners of his mouth turned up and he pulled his knife away from a summer sausage.

"Then why did you want to make homemade biscuits? Those don't say serious, either."

Ezra's smile was on full effect now while his eyes took on a devilish gleam. "You're getting your bite back. Someone must be feeling better."

"Someone needs to remember who he's talking to," Katherine answered, picking up a grape and popping it in her mouth. "And put the pickles in that bowl far away from the crackers I like so they don't drip pickle juice everywhere. I can't believe I let you talk me into getting them."

Ezra moved behind her and put his hands on her waist, turning her away from her fussing.

"Admit my biscuits are delicious," he said, his voice in a comically low growl.

She shrugged, folding her arms to resist the temptation to reach out to him. "They're okay."

"Okay?"

He stepped closer to her, her folded arms the only barrier.

"Okay," she said again as she held her ground, leaning back against the counter and looking up at him over her glasses. "A lot of work for something that's just as good in a can."

Katherine knew that would land, and Ezra's face immediately betrayed that she was right as he scoffed.

"You are going to pay for that," he purred.

She saw where his eyes drifted, and her face turned to stone. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh," his voice barely glided against her cheek as he reached behind her. "I would."

And he pulled out a tiny pickle, speared on a toothpick, and held it right under her nose.

"Bleh!" she screamed as she tried to dodge away from him. But his other hand was around her waist, holding her still.

"Smell the pickle," he called, his face impish and incorrigible. "Say my biscuits are the best or I'll—"

He started to tickle her side and she squealed, nearly squirming right into the pungent preserved cucumber. "Keep your devil brine to yourself!" she yelled. "If you drip that on me, so help me . . ."

Ezra laughed, putting the pickle in his mouth. "There, I saved you from the horrid pickle," he said, throwing the toothpick into the trashcan across the kitchen. "Now admit my biscuits are better than a can!"

Just then, the doorbell chimed, and Katherine ducked out of his grasp and away from his pickle breath.

"We are not done with this conversation," he called after her, picking up the charcuterie board and taking it to the kitchen table.