“For Holden?” Bradie could not sound more shocked if she tried.
“Well, for both of us,” I say and suddenly feel a little sheepish. I didn’t actually tell him I was making dinner. I went to the store to buy the ingredients for the cookies, for Duke’s tutoring, and the idea struck me there. I love cooking. I haven’t done it since my dad died and I didn’t do it much in the years he was sick either. And to be honest, the impulse to do it now wasn’t so much some kind of romantic gesture for Holden—like Bradie clearly thinks it is judging by her expression—it was more a way of keeping my mind off what Dixie told me.
Holden walks up behind Bradie. Standing there together I can really see the family resemblance. They both have the same light brown hair color and the same full mouth. They both seem to have the same acute sense of smell too because he leans toward the open door and sniffs. “What smells fantastic?”
“I’m making dinner,” I say and turn back to Bradie. “There’s enough for four if you guys want to stay. I mean, you’re already here and it’ll be ready in a minute.”
She looks uncomfortable, like I just asked her an overly personal question or something.
Girlfriend, I just asked you to have dinner with your brother, not give me a kidney. She looks so weirded out by the possibility I’m about to rescind the offer, but then Duke pipes up, “Ma, you wouldn’t have to cook. You hate cooking.”
Bradie looks horrified by her son’s candidness. “I don’t hate it,” she says sternly. “I just am exhausted by the time I get home and so it feels like a chore.”
“It smells so good!” Duke says in one of those longing, singsong voices that only kids can do. Bradie, in no way seems like the type of mom that will give in to that tone, but to my surprise, she relents.
“Fine,” she says and Duke looks as surprised as I am. Bradie turns her blue eyes on me. “It does smell better than the chicken fingers and steamed broccoli I was going to make.”
A look of happiness flickers across Holden’s face, but he turns away before I can completely enjoy it. It was a beautiful thing. “It’s going to be a tight squeeze in here.”
“I was thinking, since it’s such a nice night, we could eat out on the back deck. There’s a big picnic table out there,” I say and no one objects, but Holden does look sheepish.
“I don’t know if I have enough dishes for everyone,” he admits.
“Do you have like one fork, one knife and one plate?” Bradie asks.
“Two of each,” he replies and Bradie laughs.
“You’re hopeless,” she says but she’s smiling, which is awesome. She turns to me. “Are there more plates in the house?”
“Yep. Everything is conveniently piled up on the dining room table until the kitchen is complete,” I say and walk over to the oven to turn it off. Everything should be ready to be plated now.
“I’ll go get them and set the table,” she offers.
“Front door is open,” Holden tells her. “I’m going to wash up real quick.”
Bradie nods and grabs Duke. “Put your backpack down and help me, buddy.”
Duke does what he’s told and the two head out of the Airstream. I grab Holden’s oven mitts and open the oven door. As I place the bubbling meatloaf tin on the stovetop, I realize he’s still standing there staring at me. I look up at him. “What?”
In one wide stride, he’s bridged the space between us and he’s kissing me—hard. I don’t know if it’s the way he’s so confident or the pure passion in the kiss itself but all my worry and fears about what Dixie told me start to feel ridiculous. And all I can think about is how stupid I was to invite Bradie and Duke to dinner because right now I would much rather let the meal grow cold and just have made hot sex with Holden. He pulls away and the look on his ruggedly gorgeous face is intense and it catches me off-guard.
“There’s a fine line between fishing and standing on the shore looking like an idiot,” Holden explains, his already low voice has dropped an octave and has a rough, gravelly quality to it suddenly. “My mom used to say it all the time.”
I want to grin at that because the double entendre of it is smart, but his expression is still so intense—almost dark—that I can’t. Is there something here I’m not getting? He cups the side of my face and kisses me softly, quickly. “I really hope we’re fishing, Win, and I don’t end up looking like an idiot.”
Before I can figure out what that means, he leaves me and disappears into the bathroom. I want to chase him into the bathroom but I still have to get the Brussels sprouts and roasted potatoes out of the oven and make the Braddocks’ special meatloaf gravy to go with the meal. So, I don’t follow and instead let his words echo in my head. I would never make him look like an idiot. He’s the one who might be making me look like one.
18
Holden
The woman of my dreams. That’s what she is. I mean, I was pretty sure of that fact before Winnie volunteered to tutor my nephew so he could stay on the hockey team and spend time with me. And before she invited my sister to stay for dinner and hang out with me, which Bradie actually seems to be enjoying. But any last inkling of uncertainty was erased when I ate this meal. Winnie is an incredible cook. I shamelessly had two helpings of the meatloaf with the decadent gravy and the roast garlic potatoes and bacon-roasted Brussels sprouts. So did Duke and he went so far as to lick his plate.
“Duke!” Bradie chastises.
“Are you kidding? It’s the ultimate compliment.” Winnie laughs and ruffles his hair.
Bradie stands as Winnie does to help her clear the dishes. I start to join them, but Winnie shoos me away. “Sit. Relax. We’ve got this.”
