Faster We Burn

had to go to three grocery stores and finally found a fresh one in an organic market. It was tiny, but it would do for my purposes, and it didn’t need to be thawed.
    I plunked it on the counter and pulled out a bag of potatoes.
    “You’re cooking me an apology turkey?” Stryker said, waiting in the doorway, as if he was nervous to come in his own apartment.
    I slammed down a can of cranberry sauce. “Yup.”
    “This is so weird,” Ric muttered.
    “You can stay if you want,” I said, giving her a dripping sweet smile. “The more the merrier.”
    “Yeah, I’ll pass,” Ric said, edging down the stairs. “You, um, have a good time.”
    “Are you sure?” I said, pulling out an acorn squash. “Well, see you at Band.” I smiled as wide as I could and slammed the squash down, making her jump. She gave Stryker a look and scurried away.
    “Aw, shame she couldn’t stay,” I said, pulling out some rolls. “I wasn’t sure if you liked this kind or this kind.” I pulled out another bag. “So I got both.”
    “Katie, what are you doing?” He finally came all the way inside.
    “I’m making up for the shitty reception you got at my house. You wanted a perfect Thanksgiving, so I’m giving you a perfect fucking Thanksgiving. Now, could you be a gentleman and go get the rest of the bags from the car? Please and thank you.”

 
     
    Chapter Twelve
     
     
    Stryker
     
    I stumbled out to her car and found the trunk absolutely bursting with anything and everything you could make a Thanksgiving with. I grabbed some more of the bags and hauled them back up the stairs. It took a while because my balance wasn’t at its finest.
    When I opened the door and saw her, I was almost relieved. I thought she’d see me with Ric and that would be it. She’d yell and scream at me, call me an asshole and never want to speak to me again.
    But, no. Katherine Ann Hallman had found a way to surprise me again.
    It took me two more trips to get everything upstairs. Katie set it all out on my counter, and then when she ran out of room, she lined the boxes and cans up on the coffee table.
    It was enough food to feed at least twelve people, but she also had other things. Placemats shaped like leaves and red, orange and yellow plates and even a paper fold-out turkey.
    She didn’t say a word as she rooted around in my drawers and found the apron I’d put on when I’d sent her that funny picture.
    “Give me a hand?” She turned her back and held out the strings so I could tie them behind her back.
    I tied a bow and moved away from her as quick as I could, resisting the urge to wrap my hands around her waist and pull her body toward me.
    She stepped around me and went to my television, going for the instant movies. She did some searching and selected one that turned out to be Charlie Brown .
    “Sit. Watch. Enjoy,” she commanded, pointing to the couch. I did as I was told and she pulled out a very old and stained cookbook, flipping the pages until she found the right one. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye while I watched the Peanuts gang’s antics.
    I knew there was no way she could singlehandedly make all that food, but I kept my mouth shut. To be honest, I was a little terrified of her at the moment.
    “Oh, I almost forgot,” she said, picking up one of the bags and rooting through it. “Here. Make some paper turkeys.” She threw a box of markers, some scissors, glue and construction paper at me. The fact that she was pretending not to be pissed at me told me that she was, she was just trying to hide it.
    “What?” I said, looking at the supplies.
    “Haven’t you ever made a paper turkey?”
    I shook my head.
    “Not in school or anything?”
    “Nope.”
    She glanced at the mountain of yet-to-be-peeled potatoes and reluctantly sat down next to me.
    “Okay, so you trace your hand like this.” She traced her hand on an orange piece of construction paper. “Then you cut it out and do a few more and then you make a body and a head with the brown and glue it together. Presto, hand turkey.”
    She handed me the marker and I saw that the design I’d drawn on her hand this afternoon was still there. I’d expected her to wash it off.
    “Okay, I need to get back to work. I expect at least two decent hand turkeys by the time I come and check on you again.”
    When she tried to get up, I took her arm to stop her.
    “Why are you doing this for me? You don’t care that I was getting drunk with Ric?”
    She