Where There's Smoke.... Barbara McCauley
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quickly gathered up her things, then headed for the kitchen.
“For God’s sake, Shane, when the hell are you gonna learn how to cook?”
Shane turned the large firehouse oven to 425©, then tossed a box of frozen pepperoni pizza to Matt. “I am cooking,” he said, and grabbed another box. “And at least it’s recognizable. We’ve still got bets going whether that meat you served last week was beef or chicken.”
“Very funny.” Offended, Matt ripped open the box of pizza. “You know damn well it was fish.”
“Fish? Damn, I just lost five bucks.”
“That recipe dates back to my great-grandmother,” Matt said with a scowl. “She prepared that dish every spring to ensure a bountiful harvest.”
“Well, see, that’s where I think you’ve got it wrong,” Shane said cheerfully. “You weren’t supposed to eat it, you were supposed to bury it.”
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