He raises a brow and nods. “Beck and call?”
“Yeah,” I admit weakly.
“And let me guess, you’d assume she does so naked?”
I shrug.
“Take off your clothes then.”
I choke and go into a coughing fit. “Excuse me?” I ask breathlessly.
“I’m pretty capable of cooking for myself. You’d be surprised to know that I actually enjoy doing it.”
“Hm.”
What? Did Easton Ciccone really just share something about himself with me?
The question rolls around in my head, and I have to stop myself from getting excited. Surely the moment he realizes that he’s let me in, even if it’s the tiniest little detail, he’ll close right back up.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Arloe.”
“I bet. So, what do your neighbors think you do?” I blurt out. “It’s just kind of strange, you living in such a residential neighborhood that’s probably filled with old people and children.”
Easton removes the meat from the container and drops it in the now sizzling pan with butter, garlic, and seasoning. “There’s an older couple that lives next door, Doris and Allen, really nice people.” His tone is sarcastic and playful.
“You know what I mean. I took you for a high-rise, apartment-living type of guy. I mean with your lifestyle, the obnoxious-ass car, the crime,” I whisper that last word.
“My neighbors know that I’m a businessman. Now, how do you like your steak?”
“Medium rare, please.”
Easton uses his head to let me know he heard me and continues cooking. I watch him as he works, and soon the kitchen is flooded with the aroma of his meal. It smells delicious, almost as good as it looks. A moment later, he starts on the asparagus and potatoes, cleaning them with a vegetable wash then adding them to the pan with the steaks. He sprinkles salt into the pan then removes it from the stove and places it into the oven.
He’s working on a sauce made of herbs, oil, vinegar, and a splash of lemon juice.
“So, a boy or a girl?” I quiz and down the last of my drink.
He pauses for a beat to glances at me, confusion lining his features.
“I saw your kid’s tag blanket on the couch. I didn’t know you were a father.” I lean forward and rest my elbows on the island.
He continues chopping the parsley. “I’m not.”
I frown but straighten my face right away.
“It belongs to my niece, August. It was left here the last time she was over.”
I smile at the light in his eyes when he says his niece’s name. Another thing he’s shared without even realizing he has.
“Do you get her often?” I continue to question him, hoping that maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll keep sharing things.
“Only when her dad needs to handle business that she can’t be around for.” He scoops the chopped herbs into his palm and drops them into a bowl before adding the rest of his ingredients.
He actually seems a little disappointed when he speaks, like he hates that that is the only time he gets to spend time with her. It warms my heart yet confuses me at the same time. He’s so different than what he’s saying to me now.
He’s aggressive, dangerous, and dominating.
He’s not the type of man to be soft over children, or older neighbors named Doris and Allen. He hurts people, aims to control women, and God knows what else. But somehow, I know there’s more under his exterior, more to his story, a side I’m sure no one ever sees.
