Dallas couldn’t believe he was still indulging in his sister’s whims at such a grown age. It was fine when she was six years old and asking him to make cakes and pastries to serve at her tea party with her menagerie of toys and stuffed animals. Hell, even now if he was in a more generous mood, he’d make her some sweet corn cakes, if only to get her whining ass out of the kitchen and to leave him be.

But a wedding?

That was going a step too far.

The paring knife came down upon the meat with a weighty chop! as Dallas cut the thin muscle into strips, his arm working evenly in controlled strokes before reaching for the marinade brush. Butter and garlic dripped down the meat into the old metal tray below, evenly spread until the butcher was satisfied. If he glanced outside the kitchen window, he could spot the outline of the barn in the corner where Lucy was no doubt harassing Amos into placing the handmade decorations like so. A scoff left Dallas’ mouth before he could stop it, reverberating in the chamber of his mask before he went back to work.

If his lamb was going to stay, Lucy had a few demands of her own. After all, it was sinful for two partners to cohabit without being married, wasn’t it? And despite what they’d have you believe, the Maldonado’s were somewhat of a religious bunch. So if Dallas wanted to keep his lamb around, he’d marry ‘em.

“Or I could just grab Junior.” Lucy had smiled, that rotten yet pretty face curling into an expression that looked remarkably just like her older brother’s. “You know he’s been wantin’ to test out that new meatsaw. I could let ‘im know he has a new target for practice.”

Dallas was too busy staring at her dirt-encrusted boots to register her threat, flecks of dust already sinking into the wooden floorboards of his kitchen. “Fine,” he finally manage to grit. “Now get the hell outta my kitchen.”

And she did, her dress flouncing as her laugh echoed in the house.

So here he was, making a goddamn dinner for his own wedding while Lucy got to play bridesmaid.

He really outta wrench her hair the next time he sees her.

A timer broke Dallas out of his daze, and he turned to shove his hands into a pair of old mitts without thinking twice. The old oven opened with a creak, heat scorching the exposed upper half of his face as he found purchase on the pan, dragging out buttery and golden bread rolls to rest on a trivet atop the counter. The meat still needed to be grilled, and he had the coals burning bright and hot outside. Needed to get the corn out there too, and that wasn’t even mentioning the potatoes and the—

And then he heard the door creak open.

Dallas didn’t pause in his methodical trajectory, going from sides to entrée with the finesse of a man who had prepared one too many large family dinners in his time.

“What is it?” His voice was brusque as he worked, tossing aside the mitts to throw his hands under the water, rubbing the bar of soap into every inch of skin until he deemed it clean enough to stomach as he turned to glance at who would be pissing him off this time.

Oh, goody. It was his “bride”.

“I’m sure Lucy’s been havin’ a field day with you,” he mutters, his tone brokering for no sympathy as his gloves snapped right back into place. If Lucy wanted to play dress-up, he wasn’t stopping her. But the kitchen didn’t care for who was who, for only one thing mattered: whoever Dallas allowed to cook got to stay to work, and whoever wasn’t got the hell out.

“Stop standin’ there like a goddamn idiot and get to work,” Dallas ordered, nudging a pan of cake batter decorated with raisins and cinnamon because of course he did all the heavy work already. “You think just ‘cause it’s your wedding day you get to get out of helping?”

What he neglected to say was our wedding day, but like hell he was gonna say that out loud.