Pepper smiled. “No problem. I got this.”

Cayenne moistened her lips and watched carefully as Nonny efficiently peeled an onion. There didn’t seem to be any trick to it, but she was very fast. Cayenne mimicked her movements. There was no need for the knife, and she didn’t cut away most of the onion trying to peel it as Cayenne had done at home.

When Nonny set the peeled onion aside, Cayenne studied her method for mincing the garlic cloves and then copied her.

“You just clean as you go. I keep a bucket handy to use for compost later and a garbage can for anything else.” She gathered up the peels and dumped them. Both women followed suit.

“Now we got to cut up the chicken. Each of us needs three pounds. I take the skin off.” Nonny demonstrated.

Cayenne took a deep breath. Skinning and cutting up a chicken was much more difficult than mincing a clove, but Pepper was already in action, and she was determined. In any case, she was really, really good with a knife. When she managed to cut up the three pounds of chicken fast she was rather proud of herself. Nonny indicated the compost bucket and they all dumped the remains.

“Cut a half pound of the sausage into rounds.”

The girls found that easy enough and obeyed.

“If you were going to add in crawfish or shrimp, you’d do it with the chicken and sausage,” Nonny said. “For today, in the Dutch oven, we’re goin’ to heat two tablespoons of olive oil, add the chicken and sausage, and we’re makin’ our own seasoning. See the little bowls there? The spices are in the middle. I use two tablespoons each of onion powder, garlic powder, dried oregano, dried basil, which I grow and dry myself.”

The two women carefully measured out the spices into their respective bowls.

“Everyone makes seasoning different. I add quite a few, but you don’ like that, or your man doesn’, you just change it up. In this one, we’ll add one tablespoon of dried thyme, one tablespoon each of both black and white pepper and cayenne.”

Cayenne flashed a small grin. “Your recipe seems right for the two of us.”

Pepper laughed. “So true.”

“Add five tablespoons of paprika and three of salt,” Nonny continued. “You want to mix it up really good. We just add seasoning to the chicken and sausage. No, no, Cayenne, not the entire bowl,” Nonny cautioned. “Just a little bit. The rest we store for the future in an airtight container. It will last a couple of months. We put the chicken and sausage in the oven and bake at 350 uncovered for fifteen minutes. It’s best to set a timer. When I was younger and had the boys, they were a mighty distraction. Now I’m old and forgetful, so I always use the timer.”

“That looks like tons of food,” Cayenne said, trying to keep the horror out of her voice. “Do they really eat all that?”

Nonny nodded. “They’re men, and they work all day tryin’ to turn this place into a fortress and they need to keep their strength up. Each of them has bought land nearly all the way to Trap’s compound. They’re goin’ to build homes or add to the ones they bought, so all through the swamp here, Wyatt’s team will have a safe home base. They can have their families here.”

Trap hadn’t mentioned to Cayenne that his team members were all planning to settle in the area. She liked the idea that Pepper and the triplets would be so protected. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she found she was a little relieved that if Trap and she did have a baby, the child would be just as protected.

“So you have to cook for them?” Cayenne asked.

Nonny frowned. “I want to cook for them. I enjoy it, and I enjoy watchin’ them eat whatever I make. I try to have beans or gumbo on the stove for when they come in at odd hours. I like havin’ those boys around. Makes me feel my girls are protected. I got me a good shotgun, but some of these soldiers Whitney sends are a might trained.”

“I like that,” Cayenne said softly. “That you want to cook for them, that it gives you pleasure. I tried to explain how I felt to Trap, but I never know if what I’m feeling is normal. I just have this driving need to make him a home.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with that, girl,” Nonny assured. “You love your man, and you want to do right by him. He do right by you?” Suddenly Nonny’s gaze was piercing, as if she could see right through Cayenne to her very soul.

Cayenne held the older woman’s gaze and slowly nodded her head. “He’s so good to me, sometimes I don’t know what to do with it. He’s kind and funny and so sweet it makes me feel funny inside.”

Pepper and Nonny exchanged a long look, both with raised eyebrows and disbelieving expressions.

“You’re talking about Trap,” Pepper said. “Our Trap?”

Cayenne didn’t like her tone or her words. “Actually he’s my Trap, and yes, he’s always sweet. Well… Not in public. Then he’s cold as ice, but he’s got his reasons and I understand them, so it doesn’t bother me.” Much, she added silently.

“Trap is sweet to you?” Nonny asked.

Cayenne tried not to feel defensive. “He was the first human being to show me any kindness at all. When I was terrified one night, he was so good to me, letting me learn things on my own…” she broke off, blushing. “I don’t know how he had so much control, and he’s a man who needs and prefers control, but he was wonderful to me. And he built me an apartment. When I couldn’t stand wide-open spaces, he didn’t mind my… um… artwork hanging on the bed like drapes. He sees me. He makes me laugh.”

“He sounds wonderful,” Nonny said immediately. “He’s the type of man who finds his woman and gives her the best part of himself. Some men are like that. He doesn’t need or want approval from anyone else, but for you, he gives whatever he’s got inside. He saves that for you. Exclusively.”

Cayenne heard the approval in Nonny’s voice. Trap was exactly like that. He gave himself to her, every single time. He actually took the time to explain himself when she instinctively knew he didn’t ever do that with others. He gave her that look, his eyes going warm and soft, his expression the same, almost tender. He melted her insides every time.

The timer went off, and Nonny went straight into teaching mode. “Now we add the onions and cook for another forty-five minutes. Again, I set the timer. I try to stay around the kitchen or close to it even with the timer going. In this case, while the chicken is cooking, we can start the salad. We’re serving a crabmeat salad tonight with the chicken. That should make the boys happy, and each of us can do exactly what we did with the chicken recipe. We’ll triple it, each of us doing enough for six.”