“What? What do you mean?”
His sister’s brow wrinkled. “I feel like that’s a fairly self-explanatory question.”
Niko sat with it and the truth was, he didn’t know jack shit about her. He wanted to, but she just seemed very private, and he didn’t want her to clam up.
Frankie took a deep breath and then exhaled. “We lost our dad suddenly when we were very young. You’re a twin. Your twin has autism. Our mom had serious issues with depression and alcohol our entire childhood. How much of that do you think affects the wayyouare as an adult? The wayyoubehave. The wayyoureact to situations.Yourrelationships with people.”
He was quiet, wondering why he hadn’t thought of that. How far was his head up his own ass that he’d actually made her behavior about him?
“If you’re having trouble, I can pull up TMZ and remind you.”
“So funny.” Lucy hopped off his lap as he stood. He walked over and kissed Frankie on the top of the head. “Thanks, Sis.”
“No, thank you. Ineverthought you’d be asking me for advice on girls. This is actually a big day for me. Now I can officially say that I have successfully played Cupid to both my brothers.”
“Well, we don’t know if it’s successful yet.”
She gave him a look that said they both knew it would be. He was glad she had faith in him, because for the very first time in his life, he wasn’t so sure.
“I have now completed my best sister in the world Bingo card,” she declared victoriously.
“You don’t need a Bingo card to tell you that you are the best sister in the world.”
“See, there’s that charm.” Frankie pointed up at him. “This is why I never thought I’d have to help you with women.”
He never thought he’d need advice when it came to women, but with Tiana, he was starting to expect the unexpected.
20
Tiana stoodat the stove stirring and then lifted the wooden spoon to her lips, and there was the sharply sweet burst of tomato followed by the slightly tangy notes of garlic, onion, chili, and pepper flakes. Her nerves were popping nearly as much as the water that held the noodles she was cooking in the large silver pot on the back burner. She’d never made spicy marinara sauce before. She hoped the recipe that she got offline was close to what it was supposed to be.
Once the oil was shimmering in the skillet, she lowered the marinara to a simmer, then placed the chicken cutlets that she’d put through her breading station and added a final touch of Parmesan with panko breadcrumbs, onion powder, garlic powder, and dried parsley. After they were totally covered, she used tongs and dipped them each into the oil for three minutes on each side before placing them on a sheet pan with a roasting rack on it. She poured sauce over the top of them and then poured marinara sauce and then mozzarella cheese.
She placed them into the oven and closed the door. Her attention turned next to the pot, she removed the noodles that were in the boiling water and pulled the pot off the stove. Shedrained the water, plopped them into the strainer, and rinsed them off under the cold tap water, drained, blanched, and sat in a neat nest, ready for plating. She flicked a glance at the clock. Ten minutes to go before the chicken would be done.
She thought Niko would be home by now, his self-defense class ended over thirty minutes ago. Maybe he was avoiding coming home because of her. If he was, she wouldn’t blame him. She’d leave and go home, she just wanted to make dinner for him first.
In the calm before the final rush, she wiped down the counters and then, impulsively, grabbed a stack of votive candles from the sideboard. She arranged them in a staggered line down the center of the table. She added cloth napkins, rolled and tied with a strand of kitchen twine she’d found when she was looking for the strainer, and a pair of heavy-bottomed water glasses. For a centerpiece, she used the stump of a rosemary bush, three sprigs clipped and stuffed into a jar with a little tap water, the scent of pine and citrus floating on the air. Last, she grabbed the wine she’d gotten at the store.
She had just finished lighting the candles when the front door opened, and Niko’s voice, low, percussive, and a little out of breath, called out from the entryway. “Something smells good.’
She heard the heavy thunk of his boots on the mat, then the familiar rattle as he hung up his keys. She braced herself, suddenly nervous, her heart knocking on her ribs like a SWAT team on a bust.
Then he appeared from around the corner of the entryway looking like some sort of dark, avenging angel, dressed in a charcoal gray Waves hoodie and dark jeans faded in all the right places. He had a way of making even casual clothes look like he belonged on a runway in Paris during fashion week or on the cover of GQ. Maybe it was his strong jaw and muscular physique that made him look like he was royalty even in a paper bag. Hepaused and did not say a word, just stared at the kitchen, then the dining area, and Tiana watched as his expression morphed from confusion to disbelief and then, finally, to wonder. He looked at the table, the plates, wine glasses, napkins, and candles, then back at her, eyes starting to shine with a light that was almost childlike.
“What is all this?” he asked, his voice soft, as if afraid that saying it too loud would break the spell, as his eyes once again spanned the length of the table.
“This is a two-for-one thank you and apology dinner.”
His eyes met hers once more, and her knees went wobbly. They had a tendency to do that when he looked at her. His eye contact game was potent. She gripped the corner of the counter to keep her balance.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” His voice was deep, raw, and was giving her full-body goosebumps, something no man, or woman had ever achieved before.
“Yes.” She swallowed over the lust clogging her throat. “Yes, I did.”
He took a step toward her. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” She glanced back at the timer. “It will be ready in about five minutes. I mean, if you’re hungry.”
