“First of all, that wasn’t totally my fault. And second, I’ve never burned a quesadilla.”
“You seem pretty sure of yourself. Go for it.”
I’d show her I could succeed at something, even if it was only heating up two tortillas with some cheese between them. Determined to prove myself, I scoured the fridge for possible ingredients. I hadn’t had to fend for myself at the station. They had cooks to take care of feeding the masses. But before that I’d been pretty good at managing on my own. I grabbed the eggs, cheese, some sausage left over from breakfast, and the tortillas.
Zina rose from the table, the puppy sound asleep in her arms. “I’m going to go put him in the basket and wash up. Try not to catch the place on fire while I’m gone, okay?”
“Very funny.” I let my gaze linger on her retreating behind. When she disappeared from view, I pulled the cutting board outof the cabinet and chopped up half of a green pepper I’d found in the fridge. Next, I dropped a pat of butter into a skillet and sautéed the peppers, then got to work on the eggs. By the time Zina came back I was just putting the finishing touches on two sausage, egg, and pepper quesadillas.
“Wow, the smoke alarm didn’t even go off.” She smiled as I slid a plate in front of her.
“One gourmet quesadilla. Can I get you anything else?” I’d already poured the remains of the orange juice into two glasses and cut up whatever fruit Gramps hadn’t eaten yet into a quick fruit salad.
“This actually looks really good. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” I took a seat next to her and let my gaze linger on her as she took the first bite. Her shoulders didn’t seem as tense and she didn’t look like she wanted to kill me anymore.
“Mmm. This is good. Maybe you’re not such a failure in the kitchen after all.”
“One bad experience and I’m going to have to live that down the rest of my life, aren’t I?”
“Your ‘bad experience’ was burning mac and cheese.” Zina held a triangle of quesadilla up to her mouth. “That’s pretty hard to overcome.”
I shook my head. “I had to rescue Barbie from my nieces.”
“So you admit you get easily distracted by women?” She swallowed the bite in her mouth and took a sip of juice.
“Not all women.” I couldn’t help but notice the way her throat moved as she swallowed. I’d had my lips on that same spot. Was it just a few hours ago? Thinking about how it had felt to lie next to Zina in the big bed upstairs made me shift in my seat. This thing between us, whatever it was, seemed to flip-flop back and forth between frustration and desire. I didn’t know which feeling was sitting closer to the surface with her tonight.
“Hmm. I suppose Barbie is one of a kind. Good thing she’s not here tonight. This is really good.”
I smiled at the compliment. “So do you have any specialties?”
“What, like in the kitchen?” The tilt of her head, the way she glanced over at me, told me she was flirting. Maybe desire was winning and I’d convince her to stay over again tonight.
“Sure. In the kitchen . . . or feel free to name any talents you might have in other rooms of the house as well.”
“Other rooms?” She grinned back at me. “Like I’m great at starting a load of laundry?”
“Not what I meant.” I watched as she took a particularly large bite. Melted cheese oozed from where it sandwiched between the tortillas.
“Oh, I know what you meant. I just don’t like to play into your conversation traps.” She hitched a brow as I wondered what she meant by that.
“My conversation traps? Say more.” Leaning back against the chair, I crossed my arms over my chest. Zina’s mind was an interesting playground. She didn’t respond the way I expected her to most of the time. It was refreshing and if I were being completely honest with myself, which I rarely was, it was also a bit intimidating.
“You know . . . where you send some flirty bullshit my way and expect me to volley it back to you.”
“Oh.” Wasn’t I charming? I’d always thought so. Most women seemed to like the banter, the flirty foreplay. Maybe it wasn’t me that was the problem. Maybe it was Zina.
“It’s okay.” She set her elbows on the table. “I kind of like it.”
“You like what? The flirty bullshit?”
“Bullshit, bullshit,” Shiner Bock piped up.
Zina laughed. “No. The quesadilla.”
Damn. I should have seen that burn coming. Ready for a complete change of subject, I tried to get to know her a little better. “So you grew up in Ido?”
