The Commander's Mate by Morganna Williams

appreciate your care for her,” he told the woman formally.
    Both women gaped at him in shock, Isabella recovering first. “I’m sorry, Madge, he doesn’t know how rude he’s being. In Grayson speak, he was being respectful,” she assured the other woman while glaring daggers at her mate.
    “How did I cause offense?” he asked in confusion.
    “Madge, we’ll be over at the corner table. Two number sixes. I can’t wait to get my grease on,” she called over her shoulder as she tugged the large man behind her and pushed him down into a booth. “Grayson, in our culture it is very rude to refer in any way to a woman’s age.”
    “You called yourself middle-aged,” Grayson pointed out.
    “Yes, but I was talking about myself, that’s different. You can’t say it!”
    “This makes no sense, little fire, is she not an old one?” he asked in consternation. Why would it be a problem to point out the age of a person?
    “Stop saying that! She’ll hear you!”
    “I do not understand this. In Ramel it is a great honor to be considered an old one. It means you’ve gained the wisdom and insight of age, which is something that cannot be taught,” Grayson told her, still in his formal speak.
    Isabella sighed, shaking her head. “I guess we’ll chalk this up to more cultural differences like braids and sandals. Like you telling me I can’t wear my hair down or wear sandals in public, I’m telling you not to comment on anyone’s age. Especially a woman’s. Just do it whether you understand or not.”
    Grayson frowned, trying to decide if her speech was disrespectful or defiant.
    She smiled at him from across the table and patted his hand sympathetically. “No disrespect intended, but some things you really need to be aware of if you’re going to be dealing with the general public.”
    He nodded thoughtfully as Madge placed two huge plates in front of them, shooting him another glare for good measure before leaving the table. His little mate had a point; if he was going to be dealing with the earth people, he and his men were going to have to make an effort to understand their ways a little better to prevent causing offense.
    Grayson looked down at the food on their plates. It seemed to be a flat brown crust with thick liquid poured over it and the thick white substance next to it. There were also long, shiny green things and a round bread of some type.
    He stared dubiously at his plate as his little mate made a sound of pleasure in the back of her throat. Grayson watched as she used her knife and fork to cut a large piece of the brown thing and dipped it in the white stuff before shoveling the huge bite into her mouth.
    Eyeing her great pleasure in the food doubtfully, he poked at his own plate with his fork.
    “Quit being such a baby, Grayson. Try something new. It’s chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes with gravy and green beans, served with the best potato roll you’ll ever put in your mouth,” Isabella said with a saucy grin before shoveling another forkful of food in her own. She was charming him with her simple joy in this cuisine.
    Grayson sighed and cut a small piece of the meat, cautiously tasting it. It was surprisingly good. “I am confused by the term chicken fried. Is it cow or chicken?”
    Izzy laughed. “It’s cow. Steak that’s been battered and fried like fried chicken so they call it chicken fried.” She watched him poke around at the food on his plate and decided he needed her help to educate him in the wonders of country cooking in Texas.
    She abandoned her own plate for a minute to build the perfect bite for Grayson, putting a bite of steak on the fork, then swirling it through the potatoes and gravy before holding it up to his lips.
    Grayson hesitated only a moment before opening his mouth for her. Under her watchful eye, he closed his eyes this time and savored the different flavors covering his palate.
    “This is very good,” he told her before digging into his own plate