He blinked rapidly as he took in Tiller’s height.
“You’re really tall,” he blurted. “Oh god. Sorry. That’s…”
Rude? I thought. Adorable? Endearing?
“It’s fine,” Tiller said with a smile. “And true.”
Tiller was six foot four which wasn’t all that tall compared to some of the other guys on his team, but with his broad shoulders, he looked even taller than he was.
“I’ll bet everyone asks you if you play basketball,” the shopkeeper said with a blush.
I nudged Tiller and pointed to a bottle of the smoked paprika Pim had mentioned. It was just out of my reach on a higher shelf.
Tiller chuckled again and reached for it before handing it to me. “Not usually. But it comes in handy when I have to grab things for this guy.” He thumbed over his shoulder at me. “He’s five seven on a good day.”
I punched him on the shoulder before turning to grab a basket by the door. Even though we’d only been in the store for ten seconds, I could tell I was going to want to try tons of things in there.
Tiller wandered over to the counter to continue chatting with Truman while I browsed. The left side of the store was mostly spices. Some were being sold under the Honeyed Lemon brand, and some were obviously imported.
“Oh, shit,” I breathed, reaching for a packet in front of me. “You have amchur powder.”
Truman leaned to the side so he could see me around Tiller’s wide shoulders. “Oh! Yes, and if you like that, you should try the anardana, too. Get the one from Hotz, it has a more nuanced flavor than mine. I haven’t been able to get it quite right yet.”
As I filled my basket with little bits and pieces of interest, I listened with one ear to Tiller’s polite questions about Aster Valley. Truman was soft-spoken but seemed to be a native Aster Vallian. Or whatever they were called.
“Nina Humphrey, down at the Crooked Bar Ranch, does horse-drawn sleigh rides if that’s something you might like,” Truman said, wringing his hands. “And then there’s… um… well, there’s a little ice-skating rink set up behind the Sip and Save, but it’s not really big enough to do much actual skating on. You’re better off going to the ice arena in Steamboat, honestly.”
“I’m not much for ice-skating,” Tiller admitted. “But the sleigh ride sounds nice. What about the ski lift? Does that still run at all?”
Truman’s jaw set, and his hands almost turned white from how tightly they gripped each other. “The ski slopes are shut down.”
“No, I know. I read about it,” Tiller said, without noticing Truman’s reaction. “I was wondering if the lift ran for like… seeing the views from up there or taking hikes down the mountain or anything.”
Truman shook his head. “Afraid not. Not for a long time now.”
Tiller apparently wasn’t done with his interrogation. “Have any of the development companies thought about starting it back up again? Is that something the residents would even want?”
Truman opened his mouth to respond but then closed it. He tilted his head in thought. “Well… I don’t know. At first it was like the place was cursed or something. No one would even consider it. But it’s been almost twenty years now…” He glanced up at Tiller. “Wow, wouldn’t that be great? Put the old history behind us and move forward again? I guess if… if it meant jobs and stuff, the residents would probably be all for it. But it would depend on the developer and the kind of people it brought to town.”
Tiller nodded and turned to me. “Find anything good?”
When he saw my full basket, he laughed and reached out his hand to take it from me. My stomach did a little swoop every time that smile was directed at me, and I had to force myself to pay attention to what he was saying. “Go grab another one, and Truman can start ringing these up.”
When I got up to the counter with the rest of my selections, I asked Truman about where he sourced his spices. He blushed again and blinked rapidly at me. “I mean… I grow them? In a greenhouse? Most of them, anyway.”
“How do you manage that while you have the shop, too?” I asked. “Do you have a partner?”
“Oh, goodness no. Not… a partner, like that. The shop is closed Monday through Wednesday during the planting and harvesting weeks, and then I bring work here for some of the processing and packaging,” he said, stretching his arm out toward a long wooden worktable that spanned almost the entire width of the back of the shop. There were mortars and pestles on a shelf behind the table and hanging scales at either end of the table as well. Empty glass jars and packaging supplies took up some of the lower shelves. “And I ship all online orders from here. If I have a big supplier order and need time at home to work on it, my friend Chaya comes in to help. And I’ve asked Solo from the diner for help a few times, too. He’s very responsible. Pim and Bill use the same point-of-sale system I do, so it’s easy for him to mind the shop.”
Once he got on a roll talking, he seemed to loosen up a little. When Tiller tried to pay, I pushed him out of the way with my hip and forced my card at Truman with a smile. “I’m sure we’ll be back before we leave. You have an incredible store here.”
His eyes widened. “Oh, well, thank you so much. Are you… Oh, I’m being silly. Of course you’re a cook. I only mean… like… what do you enjoy making?”
Before I could answer, Tiller stepped forward again. “He’s an amazing chef. He makes this lentil soup I can’t get enough of.”
I leaned in and stage-whispered, “It’s kaali daal.”
Truman laughed behind a hand. “Did you…” He rifled through the paper shopping bag where he’d been stashing my items after ringing them up. “Oh good. You grabbed the asafetida. You have to tell me what you think. You should be able to get the lentils at the supermarket around the corner.”
When we finally waved goodbye to the kind shop owner and made our way back onto the street, I was excited to get back to the house and start cooking. I had a million ideas and no clue which one to start with.
“What are you hungry for?” I asked Tiller.
He patted his stomach with his good hand. “Uh, a five-mile run to burn off these pancakes?”
So that’s what we did. Rather, that’s what he did. I, on the other hand, set out all of my new goodies and began sketching out ideas for new recipes with them. I got a few things started and then browsed online for tips about staging food for photographs. Since I was a complete noob going into this cookbook project, I hadn’t realized the chefs had to help develop photo concepts for the book.
And I knew about as much about photo styling as I did about the various species of boa constrictors.
“What’re you working on?” Tiller asked on one of his passes through the kitchen for more ice water and a banana.
“Watching YouTube videos on food photography.”
He stepped up behind me until I could feel the damp warmth coming off his sweaty skin. “You want to take pictures?”
“Definitely not,” I said with a sigh. “But apparently I need to at least have a say in how I want these dishes presented in photos. I’m not sure yet who’s doing the styling and photography, but I don’t want to sound like a yard full of crickets when they ask me what my vision is.”