The community.

Charlie scoffed at the word, even though she knew Anna had been right. They weren’t doing any favors to themselves, sequestering themselves away while they tried to deal with the loss of Sam. Luke’s next words made Charlie snort, mentioning that he was a little closed off. There weren’t enough adjectives to describe the lengths he would go to in order to be left alone, keep his peace. She took another drink of beer when she realized Luke was staring at her.

“What?”

She would look back on this moment and realize how easy it was for her to take those few steps towards him. She knew she would try to convince herself that was simply because she was drunk and wanted to be near someone… while that wasn’t completely untrue, it wasn’t the whole truth. Charlie could barely breathe, for there was no space between them now. She had to crane her neck up to look him in the eyes. “I can cause you a whole lotta trouble, if you like.” Her gaze roamed over his face hungrily, the same as he had done minutes prior. 

The hand that held her bottle turned slightly, now letting her fingers rest against his chest. 

But they were interrupted, something that she should have been thankful for. In that moment, she wished they’d never picked Jake up from the breeder.

“Hi, baby,” Charlie cooed, lowering as she balanced on the balls of her feet in order to pet the dog. “You’re such a good boy. I love you so — hey!” He was off to get more water, making the second male to leave her without warning. 

She groaned as she stood, looking in confusion at Luke and the butter. “Lard? Oh!” She slapped gently at his hands and raised a finger to poke at his arm. “Don’t you dare put that butter in there, Luke McCormick. Swear to god, I’ll fuck you up if you even think about it.” With another glare, Charlie moved quickly towards the lard then pulled open a drawer to grab the biscuit cutter. “You gotta use lard instead of butter. It’s the secret.” 

Of course, Charlie didn’t remember that she’d went to do the same thing when they’d started mixing. “I don’t wanna wait for the butter to cool anyway. If it’s meltin’ that quick, it ain’t worth shit.” She checked him with a hip gently, fighting a smile as she began to mix the lard in. “Fuck you talkin’ about, a fuckin’ mold.”

She worked quickly, careful not to overwork the dough, before spreading it out and placing the cutter into it over and over. Rolled it again, rinse, wash, and repeat until it totaled 10 large biscuits. “You know, if I weren’t drunk, I’d use a cast iron.” She shooed Luke away from the over before opening the door and feeling the heat rush into her face. 

“‘I know plenty’,” she mocked in a deepened voice before her tone returned to normal, “’part from what lards for in biscuits. Imagine.” The woman closed the door, grabbing the hand-towel on the handle and ridding her hands of any leftover biscuit particles. It was quickly tossed to the side and she stood there, eyes raking over Luke from head to toe, back to head again. 

It only took half a second for her hand to hook her finger around the neck of his beer in a mirror to his previous actions. The alcohol had very clearly lifted any inhibitions she would have had sober as she took a few steps forward, not wanting to try and pull a man so much bigger than her anywhere. “You better mind yourself,” Charlie continued quietly, her eyes moving between his eyes and mouth.