“Perfect.” Jazzy paused, recognizing that thiswas the firepit Roan and his wife had used in their videos. Once upon a time, Claire had sat here with him sipping beers. That made her feel weird. She stared into the fire, the camaraderie they shared morphing into awkwardness.
“Time to check on the cookies,” he said.
“But it’s too early.” She showed him her phone with the timer app she’d set. “It’s only been seven minutes and the recipe instructions say ten to twelve.”
“The recipe isn’t for campfire cooking. We don’t have as much control over the heat as we do in an oven. It may take much longer or shorter than what the recipe recommends. In campfire baking, you have to keep a closer eye on the product.”
“Gotcha.”
“You want to try taking the lid off with the lifter?”
“Why don’t you demonstrate this first time and let me watch how a master does it. Then I can try my hand at it tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he said easily and with languid movements, stretched from the chair to the firepit.
Donning a glove, he lifted the Dutch oven from the fire and set it on the brick border surrounding the pit. The embers on the lid glowed red in the darkness. Another coyote howl echoed across the ranch and sent goose bump shivers up Jazzy’s arms.
Cautiously, Roan raised the lid with the lifting tool, smoothly settling the cover to one side without missing a beat. Even from where she was sitting, Jazzy could feel the heat radiating off the Dutch oven.
“Want to peek?” Roan asked.
Nodding, she moved to crouch beside him and peered into the Dutch oven. The dough was melting and spreading in the pan, but it still looked raw on top. “Needs more time.”
“I agree.” He reversed the process he’d used to remove the Dutch oven from the coals, settling it back down again, then took his seat next to her.
“Another beer?” he asked as she polished off the first one.
“No. I need to drive home.”
“I have two guest rooms,” he said. “You’re welcome to stay the night.”
Oh wow. Did that invitation have some hidden meaning?
“I have to check on my cat. Sabrina is pretty self-sufficient, but if I don’t give her enough attention, she’ll get revenge-y and poop in my house shoes.”
“Can’t have that, can we?” he chuckled.
“No sirree. I just got out my Christmas slippers.”
“Christmas slippers?”
“I have slippers for every major holiday,” Jazzy explained. “Bunny for Easter, Uncle Sam for Fourth of July, witches for Halloween, turkeys for Thanksgiving, and Santa slippers for Christmas.”
“No kidding?” He looked amused.
“I adore holidays.”
“You’re a kid at heart.”
“Why do you think I work on the Pediatric Ward?” she asked.
“I thought it might be because you were sickly as a kid.” He paused. “Or so my mom told me.”
“That too. I had crazy bad asthma or so the doctors thought until they discovered the real cause and the nurses helped me so much,” Jazzy said. “I wanted to give back to the profession that did so much for me.”
“Admirable. Do you like nursing?”
“Loveit. I mean it’s really rough when I lose a patient, but thankfully that’s very rare.”