I’m guessing it’s part of why he’s stayed gone all this time.
Turning back to my Crock-Pot, I sigh. I should call out for pizza. Or maybe confess to my cousins that I screwed up our dinner and offer to treat us to a nice meal at Trillium. They have that big table in back that could hold all of us.
But when I pick up the phone, that’s not who I call.
“Luke?” I keep my voice low, peeking out at my cousins collected in my dining room. “I could really use your help.”
Chapter 11
Luke
“Let me get this straight.” I throw back the lid on my grill, checking the thick hunk of meat I’m preparing. With the phone to my ear, I harass Hazel. “You are desperately, hungrily, urgently begging for my pork.” When she doesn’t reply, I keep going. “You want my pork reeeeeal bad.”
Hazel lets out that soft little huff I adore. “I knew you’d be a jerk about this.”
“Jerk pork is totally different,” I quip as I probe the meat. This might be one of my finest preparations of discounted pork shoulder. “Jerk is a Jamaican style of cooking. My specialty is a hot-honey pork with a tropical twist.”
“God, that sounds good.” There’s a bright bark of laughter in the background, probably Hazel’s family. “I’ll do whatever you want, Luke. I’ll pay you back for the meat and do anything you ask?—”
“Anything, huh?” I let the words linger suggestively. “Say it nice and sexy for me.”
“Say what, exactly?” She sounds like she’s speaking through gritted teeth.
“Say, ‘Please give me your piping hot pork.’”
“Luke—”
“Say, ‘I want your meat so bad, Luke.’” This is fun.
“Dammit.” She’s cute when she’s annoyed.
“I rubbed it reeeeal good with spices.” I put a little extra growl in my voice. “Smoked it low and slow for hours.” I’m almost turning myself on now. “Slid in my meat probe just now and it’s so fucking hot on the inside.”
“For God’s sake, Luke.” She sounds deliciously breathless. “You’re incorrigible.”
Chuckling, I transfer the meat to a platter. “Did I mention it’s bone-in?”
There’s that sweet huff again. “Fine. You want me to beg for your meat? I want it. I need it. I’m so unbelievably starved for your meat that I can’t stop touching myself while I—what’s that?” There’s some muffled chatter in a voice that’s not hers. Then Hazel again, not talking to me.
“It’s in the cupboard beside the fridge.” She sounds flustered. “Kaleb, no—that one over there.”
I laugh to myself as I carry the meat to my kitchen. I already mixed up the guava and apricot juice with melted butter and honey. All that’s left to do is shred the pork and braise it a bit with the sauce.
Her cousin must’ve left the room because Hazel’s back on the line now. “So you’ll do it?”
“Slip you my hot, juicy pork?” I laugh when she makes an exasperated sound. “Yeah, gimme about thirty minutes. My pork needs to rest.”
“You’re such a boy,” she huffs. “I get it, I wore out your penis last week. Ha ha. This is why I’m glad we’re having girls. They won’t turn everything into a joke about genitals.”
“That wasn’t a joke. Pork needs to rest before slicing or shredding, or you risk losing all the juices. Hey—that was a good one.” I grin at her growl of frustration. “I’ll be there in forty minutes. And don’t think I’ve forgotten you just promised to do absolutely anything I want.”
I hang up before she can make more irritated noises, which is too bad. But hey, I’ll get to see her in person now. Has she already broken the news about the pregnancy? She didn’t mention it just now on the phone, though she asked me to join them for dinner. Probably just being polite, since I’m providing the food.
It takes me a bit to finish the dish and bundle it up in my Crock-Pot. I grab the big bowl of slaw I made to go with it, along with some sesame buns I bought at Weirdoughs. In thirty-eight minutes, I’m standing on Hazel’s front porch with three bags of food and a touch of hero complex. Is it wrong to love coming to her rescue? It isn’t too often that a guy with a big black mark on his record gets to be the white knight.
I don’t get a chance to ring the bell. The door flies open, blasting my face with a warm gust of air.
“Hey.” Noah Spencer-King gives me a dead-eyed look. “Didn’t know you were friends with my cousin.”
