“Perfect. I’m lying on my bed right now, staring at the Crazies.”
“Sounds peaceful.”
“It is.” I sighed. “But I’m bored out of my mind.”
“Enjoy the down time.” Malik advised me. “We’ll be able to sleep well tonight knowing you’re not busting through some asshole’s door.”
I chuckled. “Well, I just wanted to check in. I love you guys.”
“We love you too. Call if you need anything.”
I promised I would, hung up and dumped the phone into my pocket. After a while, the silence was maddening. I pushed from the bed and wandered downstairs and into the kitchen. The fridge was stock full. Someone had taken out beef and I settled for making beef stew with basmati rice and seasonal vegetables. I’d just turned off the stove when someone cleared their throat behind me.
I spun around.
“You must be Tarek Jonas.”
She was pretty, curves in all the right places with sparkling eyes. Taz was a very lucky man.
“You must be Miss Hannah.” I wiped my hands into a towel and extended one to her.
“Just Hannah is fine.” She shook my hand and released it. “Something smells really good.”
I grinned. “Jamaican beef stew.”
“How’d you learn to make it?” Hannah asked while peering into the pot. “Is it ready?”
“It’s ready.” I replied. “And my mother taught me how to make it. Let me get you a plate.”
“If that tastes as good as it smells.” She climbed into one of the highchairs at the island. “I’m keeping you.”
I laughed. After dishing her a plate, I set it in front of her and waited for a verdict. She lifted some food to her lips and moaned. I laughed and nodded. “I have my answer.”
Once she was settled into eating, I poured her a glass of lemonade and set in beside her plate. She waved her fork at me in thanks and I chuckled.
“You didn’t have to do this.” She told me. “But I ain’t mad you did.”
“I know. I was feeling a little bored.” I told her. “Besides, I’m barging into your lives for two weeks. I might as well make myself useful.”
“You’re not barging, believe me. You’re a friend of Taz. He thinks you’re good people. You are more than welcome here.”
“Thank you.”
“So, mom taught you to cook?” Hannah asked. “I didn’t think mothers do that anymore.”
I nodded. “Yeah. She didn’t want us to be burdens to our wives. She has three boys, no daughters. It’s either a blessing or a curse. She insisted on teaching us how to take care of ourselves and how to change a tire. My dad taught us a lot of things but there are certain things only a mom can teach her kids.”
Hannah laughed. “Your mom sounds like a strong woman.”
“She is.”
Hannah tilted her head. “I have to ask—your mom is Jamaican?”
I smiled. “Yes. I was adopted by black parents.”
“Oh! That is cool.”
“I have to agree.” I smiled proudly. “They are the best parents a little orphan boy could ever have.”
