“Shut up. I’ll do this, you get the door.” She nudges me out of the way with her chair, grabbing the lettuce and a tomato from my hands.
“Run over my toes, why don’t you? He hasn’t even knocked yet.” I grab a bag of shredded carrots and cheese and set those on the counter also. Seconds later, Rafe bangs on the door loudly, even the window rattles.
“Lord, he’s about to break down the door,” Mom hisses.
“Coming,” I call out and rush over. When I pull the door open, I get a whiff of his cologne. “Hey, come on in.” My voice is soft and dreamy.
Rafe steps past the threshold and plants a quick, hard kiss on my lips. I sneak a peek over at my mom’s back, but she’s pretending to be busy at the counter and not looking our way.
“I’m happy you could come,” I tell him as I close the door. He’s dressed in dark jeans and another long-sleeved thermal shirt. The shirt hides a lot of his tattoos, but the clingy fabric shows off just how toned his body is.
Without me telling him to, Rafe bends down and unties his boots, placing them in the boot tray like he knew exactly where to put them. “Smells good. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You have perfect timing, it just got done.”
“Mind if I wash up?” he asks.
“No, bathroom is…down the hall,” I finish, but Rafe was already heading in that direction. I guess it wouldn’t be hard to figure out where it would be, since there aren’t many options off the kitchen.
“Down here?” he inquires, pointing in the direction he’s traveling.
“Yep, just down the hall.”
When he returns, the table is set. Mom is in her spot, and I’m already seated. Rafe pulls out the chair on my left and sits. The table seats four, but he makes it feel small. “Hello again,” Mom says cheerily. “Help yourself.”
Rafe looks at the chicken, green beans, and potatoes all on the tray and slowly reaches for the tongs, placing the smallest piece of chicken on his plate and a small portion of the beans and potatoes.
“I promise it tastes better than it looks.” Mom chuckles. She’s right. Other than a little bit of spices, the chicken looks pretty boring, but it’s marinated in honey and Dijon mustard, which gives it great flavor. The veggies were coated in the marinade too before they were baked. It’s quick and simple but turns out great every time.
“It looks good,” Rafe remarks.
I notice he’s a little stiff, but I can’t blame him. I put some salad on my plate, a pile of green beans, and a piece of chicken. Mom waits until I’m done and fills her plate.
“You should try some of the bread.” Mom points at the loaf I put on the table. “Lucy baked it. She could open a bakery.” I know she loves when I bake, but she’s upselling me for Rafe’s benefit.
“You like to bake?” he asks, reaching for the knife next to the loaf while looking at me.
I nod. “I have no interest in opening a bakery,” I tell them both, “but I enjoy it.” Rafe grabs the knife and cuts off a huge slab of bread. “It’s sourdough,” I warn him.
“My favorite.” He gives me a wide smile. “I haven’t had any in months.”
“I haven’t made any in a while myself. I dropped my starter and had to make a new one, which takes a while.”
“Your starter?” He tears into the bread and makes an appreciative groan.
“A starter is like a wet dough that you feed every day, and when you’re ready to make a loaf, you pinch some off the starter and use it as a base for the dough,” I explain.
“What do you feed it?”
“Just flour and water.” I dig into my salad so I won’t keep staring at him.
“It’s delicious.” He holds up the mostly eaten piece of bread like he’s proving his point.
Rafe ends up going back for seconds once he cleans his plate, which makes my mom smile. All in all, dinner goes pretty smoothly. I’m happy she doesn’t pepper him with questions, but that means it’s a relatively quiet affair.
When I’m done eating, I get up and take my and Mom’s plates to the sink to rinse. Rafe rises soon after and brings his over. “Do you mind setting the tray on the counter?” Mom asks Rafe, motioning to the leftovers on the table.
When he turns to grab it, Mom gives me an exaggerated wink. I just know she thinks she’s helping train him. I roll my eyes. “I’m going to head into my room for the evening. I’m tired.” Her shoulders droop with her words, but I know what she’s doing.
