“You didn’t say anything.”
“Seriously, Jordan? Why would I?”
It’s not like Jordan and I are friends. Then again, I have no ideawhatthe hell we are.
“I think you’ve murdered that poor cucumber enough.”
I look down at the mushy, unsalvageable mess I’ve created. Awesome. The pile of pulp looks like a bumpy jellyfish. Not eating that. I dump the entire thing in the trash and start chopping the peeled carrots.
“You sure that’s wise?” he asks, the corners of his mouth wobbling as he tries not to laugh.
“Never question a woman in her kitchen while she’s holding a knife.”
I make a grand show of taking my time, meticulously slicing the carrot into thin coins.
“Duly noted.” He steals a circle of carrot and pops it into his mouth. “Steaks are on the grill. Should be ready in about twenty minutes for well-done. I think. I’m not used to cooking things on a charcoal grill, so they may come out a little charred.”
Another thing that irks me? How Jordan remembers the way Natalie likes her meat prepared, or how he remembers which cabinet the bowls and plates are kept, or where Natalie keeps the bag of charcoal briquettes and lighter fluid. He shows up on her doorstep after years of apparently being a ghost—his words, not mine—and he just seems to fit, whereas I still feel like a stranger.
It’s an irrational thought, and one I refuse to dwell on or give credence to. I guess I’m just tired of feeling like I don’t belonganywhere. Like everything in my life is transient with no permanency. North Carolina was beautiful, and I loved living there, but it never truly felt like home. Nowhere has, not even Natalie’s house. Growing up here was more like a prison. I was constantly having to look over my shoulder and walk on tenterhooks because of my sister.
Other than Natalie, I also never made any personal connections with anyone that would tie me down here. I had no friends. I was invisible. At least in North Carolina, I had Harper, Mason, and Bennett and their circle of friends. They accepted me into their close-knit fold. For the first time in my life, I felt like I was part of a real family.
The carrots get scraped into the large bowl on top of the lettuce, red onion, and grape tomatoes.
Jordan hip bumps me.
“Put me to work.”
I hip bump him back. “I’m almost done.”
He hops onto the counter space beside me, his long legs dangling and almost touching the floor. His nearness and the smell of his cologne set my nerve endings into overdrive.
“There’s a bottle of red stashed in the upper cabinet to your left, if you want that with dinner,” I offer.
He shifts and crosses his legs at the ankle, getting comfortable on his perch. “Thanks, but I don’t drink anymore. I’ll open it up if you and Natalie want some.”
After adding the light vinaigrette I made from scratch, I toss the salad with a fork and a spoon. I may hate the idea of food, but I’m a damn good cook. My homemade country-style steak with brown gravy and caramelized onions is to die for.
“Natalie can’t have any alcohol with her meds. Sweet tea is fine. There’s a pitcher in the fridge.”
He hops down to retrieve it. “Go ahead and ask me. I can see it written all over your gorgeous face.”
I blush at his compliment. He keeps saying stuff like that, and I’m at a loss on how to respond.
“Ask what?” I feign.
Adding ice to three glasses, he pours tea in each. “You knowwhat.”
Covering the salad bowl with plastic wrap, I pick it up to carry it outside to the patio, knowing Natalie will want to eat out there.
“None of my business,” I reply.
Those four words have been said a lot over the past couple of days.
He follows me out, holding the iced teas between his hands like a pyramid stack on a pool table.
“I’d like it to be your business. I want you to know everything about me. You know, sooner or later, I’m going to bust through those walls you keep erecting.”
