by Angie Pepper
“Sandwiches? Sure. I’ll just use up those ten loaves of bread I always keep in the house.”
“Don’t worry about bread,” she said. “I brought bread.”
She had. A whole bag’s worth.
Tina helped Rory unload the groceries, keeping an eye on the giant half-cow in case it tried to make a getaway.
The miniature kitchen had very little counter space, so the girls hauled the dining table closer to fashion a prep area.
“What’s all this crunchy dust?” Rory asked, scowling at the table surface.
“Housekeeper’s day off,” Tina joked, grabbing a cloth to give it a quick wipe.
The crunchy dust was from one of the dried rose petals. After taking everything out on Wednesday night, she’d gone to bed exhausted without cleaning up. She’d left everything out, right up until an hour before Rory had shown up. Unfortunately, the sun streaming in the window had degraded the rose further, causing more petals to fall off. She’d have to be more careful next time.
Rory said, “I have something to tell you.”
“Oh?” Tina got out the cutting board and started chopping carrots.
Rory whispered something so softly, Tina couldn’t hear it. Rory was trying, though. Her face was red with effort. What was she up to?
She whispered the word again, and this time Tina heard it. “Pantyhose.”
“Rory!”
She said it again, louder. “Pantyhose.”
“That’s great, Rory! You’re making so much progress. Is this from the hypnosis tapes?”
She shook her head. “Not the hypnosis tapes.”
“Did my sister drag you to her loser support group?”
Rory shook her head again, but she was grinning, proud of her accomplishment.
Tina asked, “Can you say any of the other no-no words? Other types of underwear?”
Rory’s grin faded. “No.”
“That’s still really good, Rory. I’d hug you right now, if it wouldn’t send you screaming for the hills.”
Rory gave Tina a serious look. “I’m still not normal. I’ll never be normal.” She grabbed some herbs and tossed them onto the cutting board. “Now get to work, or date number four will be the one where you serve raw meat and carrot sticks.”
“Yes, Captain.”
For the next hour, they chopped, and seared, and basted.
Rory worked for a caterer, so making a gourmet meal was well within her skills. Not Tina’s. Tina must have been out of her mind when she’d offered to make Luca dinner.
Tina had been thinking a lot about date number four, and what was expected to happen—according to some advice websites—on the fourth date. The particular thing that, if it were to happen, would happen in her tiny house, on her fold-out sofa bed. That was assuming she still remembered how it was done. Was it like riding a bicycle? Did it all come back to you by sense memory?
Rory was chopping away, oblivious to Tina’s nervous glances at the sofa-bed and the thoughts in her head. Tina wished she could talk to her best friend about how she was feeling, but Rory could barely say the word pantyhose. She wouldn’t be able to handle any discussion of sex.
A terrible thought occurred to Tina. What if Luca was terrible at sex? Even worse than her? What if that was the reason he kept sending women flowers? What if he did some horrible, taboo thing that made women never want to see him again?
Rory stood up from checking the roast in the oven and looked at Tina. “Are you nervous? You look like you’re going to throw up.”
“It’s our fourth date,” Tina said. “That’s the date where people traditionally…” She let the implication hang in the air.
Rory frowned. “Traditionally what?”
“You know,” Tina said.
“I do not know.”
Since Rory had made some progress, Tina decided to take a risk with a euphemism.
“Rory, the fourth date is when some people say a couple should... play Scrabble.”
“Oh.” Rory’s cheeks got pink, and she started breathing in her upper chest, but she didn’t run for the door. “But not Scrabble-Scrabble. You mean the other thing.”
“Exactly.”
Rory took a few more short breaths but still didn’t run. “Okay. Date four. Scrabble time. Do you want that to happen?”
“Yes,” Tina said without hesitation, surprising herself.
“Because he makes you feel...” Rory closed her eyes and grimaced.
“Party feelings,” Tina said.
Rory clenched her fists, then released them, staying where she was. “I can handle this,” she said to herself, then, “You can handle this. You’ve played Scrabble before.”
“You know I have. You know everything about me. You know that—”
Rory held up one hand. “Not in technicolor detail, thank you.”
Tina fanned her face. The small house was heating up, thanks to the giant roast in the tiny oven. “I appreciate you letting me talk about it,” she said. “Maybe Meenie is right about therapy stuff. Maybe talking about your crap actually does help sort everything out.”
“So, you’re nervous about tonight,” Rory said. “But not about the dinner. About the other thing. Which you want to do. So, what’s the problem? You’re not me. You’ll be fine.”
“There’s lots to worry about,” Tina said. “What if he’s terrible at Scrabble? Like he puts the words in the wrong places, or he goes right for the triple word score immediately, instead of starting in the middle.”
Rory’s face froze.
Tina feared she’d broken her friend with the metaphor, but Rory gradually got her face muscles working again. “Okay,” Rory said slowly. “Let’s talk this out.”
“Really? Wow. I’m so proud of you. And grateful, of course. The only other person I can talk to is my sister, and you know how she can be.”
“Oh, I know.” Rory grabbed the bottle of wine they’d been using for the sauce, and poured a glass for each of them. Rory didn’t drink much, because of her family history, but she would have a glass on occasion.
They took the glasses over to the couch and sat there.
Rory spoke slowly and carefully. “Maybe before you get the Scrabble board down from the closet, you should be very clear with the other player about your house rules.”
“House rules? I don’t know. I tend to go with the standard rules. Nothing fancy.”
Rory glugged down half her glass then took a deep breath and asked, “What about warm-up games?”
“You mean...?”
“Have you two played any other types of board games before? Did you share the crossword puzzle?”
“Do you mean the one you do with your hands? No.”
Rory covered her flushing face with one hand. “So, no warm-up games.”
“That depends on how you define things. The last time he came to see me at the flower shop, I did brush up against his wildcard tiles, but I didn’t put my hand inside the velvet bag and grope around for anything special.”
Rory hyperventilated a moment before getting herself under control. “You know what? I think you’re going to be fine. Just take it slow.”
Tina swirled her wine in her glass. “I’m a little worried about everything fitting together,” she said.
Rory gave her a blank look. “Fitting together?”
“Most people play with seven tiles at a time because they fit on the tile rack. I think my tile rack is standard, but what if he plays with eight tiles? Or nine, or ten?”
“Tiles?” Rory didn’t get it. Not yet.
Tina pressed on with the metaphor. “Rory, what if he plays with eleven tiles?” She gestured to imply a more well-endowed tile rack than the kind you’d normally expect to find with Scrabble.
Then Rory got it.
Tina knew she got it because Rory slowly leaned forward, set the wine glass on the coffee table, and then ran out of her place so fast, she left a cartoon dust cloud behind her.
“You’re making great p
rogress,” Tina yelled after her best friend.
Chapter 13
Luca arrived right on time for dinner.
This time, he’d followed Tina’s instructions and came around the side of the main house, right to her door.
He had flowers in his hands—a beautiful mixed flower arrangement, in a vase she recognized from her shop.
“You’re kidding,” she said, taking the flowers. He must have bought them on the way over, from her sister. Tina was surprised Megan hadn’t sent her one of her sassy text messages, taunting her about knowing something Tina didn’t know yet.
“Read the note,” Luca said, glancing around the house interior before turning his beautiful blue eyes back on her.
She yanked open the envelope and pulled out one of the standard cards from the shop.
The card was in her sister’s handwriting and read: SORRY I’M A JERK. - LUCA
Tina looked up, confused. Luca was grinning like crazy.
“I don’t get it,” she said.
“It’s a precautionary measure. I’ll probably do something hideous tonight.”
“Like what?”
“Well, I might look around your place and ask to see the rest of it. Then you’ll tell me this is all of it.” He whispered, “Is this all of it?”
“Oh, I have five more rooms here. They’re behind that door. Go have a look.” She pointed at the coat closet. “That might seem like the standard bi-fold door of a coat closet, but it leads to the other wing of the mansion.”
“I’ll have to check it out later.” He took the flowers and note from her hands and set them in the middle of the table. “Where is Muffins? I need to meet the famous Muffins after seeing so many pictures of him. Will he give me an autograph?”
“Muffins only stops by here when his dinner is late at the main house. He mostly lives over there, with my sister. The two of them have an intense relationship.”
“Does she dress him up in outfits?”
“No,” Tina said. “That might be why he likes her better.”
“Just so you know, I’m not one of those guys who hates cats,” Luca said. “I find them intriguing.”
“Good. Because if you were one of those cat-haters, it would be a deal breaker.”
“Phew. Glad I passed that test.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss.
There was no one around to see them, and nowhere for Tina to escape. More importantly, she was ready to kiss him.
They kissed until she got dizzy and stumbled back, almost tipping them over.
Luca licked his lips, his gaze on her mouth. “Are you going to offer me some of that wine you’re drinking?”
“I’m afraid that particular wine is all gone. It went into the sauce. Most of it, anyway. But I have another bottle I can open.”
He reached into the bag he’d set down on arrival and handed her an unopened bottle. “Let’s try this one.”
“The bottle’s dusty.”
“It’s from my wine cellar.”
“You have a wine cellar?”
“It’s where all the trendy people keep their wine.”
She pointed to the closet door again. “I have a wine cellar, too. It’s right through that door, in the other wing.”
“Sure you do.” He grabbed her and kissed her again then nuzzled his cheek against her neck. His cheek was smooth, like the cheek of someone much younger. He must have shaved right before coming over. The feeling of his skin against her neck, along with his hot breath, made her knees weak.
“You smell good,” he murmured. “You smell like roast beef, which is one of my favorite smells.”
She squealed and pulled away. “That’s your dinner.”
He pointed his finger in the air, like he’d just remembered something. “Right, dinner. I should confess. I actually ate a full dinner before I came over because I knew that your offer to make me dinner was just an excuse to get me into your lair. Your sister told me you don’t use your oven to cook anything but nachos.”
“I’ll kill her!” Tina glared in the direction of the main house. “Did you really eat before you came over?”
He laughed. “No. I’m just teasing you. Actually, I’m famished.” He plucked the note card from the table and pointed to the inscription that apologized for him being a jerk. “Now you see why I needed this. Classic jerk move, making you think I’d already had dinner.”
“Try to be less of a jerk.” She handed him the wine opener. “More useful, less of a jerk.”
He got to work opening the bottle.
The timer for the roast went off. She pulled the enormous half-cow from the oven. Rory had brought over a new roasting pan that fit Tina’s undersized oven—barely. Tina set the steaming roast on the stove top to rest before slicing. Rory had left her specific instructions for the final preparations, and Tina was doing her best to follow them.
Luca handed her a glass of wine and offered to help. He and his large frame barely fit inside the micro kitchen, let alone both of them. She shooed him out.
“Snoop around a little,” she said. “I know you’re dying to.”
“I’m not much of a snooper,” he said, but then he started looking around. He ran his hands over the wooden mantel. “This is good quality craftsmanship.” Then he looked at the framed photos on the mantel above the miniature fireplace.
She realized, too late, that she should have put the photos away, or at least rearranged them.
He picked up the photo from prom. “I didn’t know you were married,” he said. “Please tell me you’re divorced, or separated.”
Her throat tightened. She was barely able to say, “That’s not a bridal gown. My prom dress was pale blue, but everyone else was in much brighter colors, so I look washed out next to them.”
“You look perfect,” he said. “If I’d been lucky enough to be your date that night, I wouldn’t have changed a thing.”
“Thanks.”
Tina reached for the hot roast pan without her mitts. She was lucky, and only lightly burned her fingers. She cursed under her breath and held her hand under the water faucet.
Luca was too focused on the photo to notice. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“My prom date.”
“Obviously,” he said. “But who is he?”
“Just a guy I used to hang out with. He was friends with my sister, too.”
She pulled her hand out of the cold water, dried it off, and, like an idiot, immediately reached for the hot pan again.
This time, the burn sent a searing shock through her body. She backed up, flailing, and knocked down a metal mixing bowl. It fell to the tile floor with a clang. She swore again, louder this time, and once again turned on the cold faucet, full blast.
The pain and shock of touching the hot pan must have flipped a switch somewhere deep inside Tina. As her burned finger pulsed with pain, her usual mental defenses fell away. Everything hit her at once. Memories flooded back. Her first love pinning a blue rose corsage on her dress. His shaking hands. The photographer teasing them. The tears it seemed everyone was holding back. The blur of a wonderful evening that went by too fast.
Tina’s hand throbbed from the burn. It was all too much. She collapsed forward against the sink.
She felt a hand on her back.
“Leave me alone,” she said automatically.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“Yes, but I’m fine. I just need a minute, okay? By myself.”
“I can’t do that,” he said.
“Of course you can. I was fine for a long time before I met you, Luca.”
“No, I mean there’s nowhere else to go,” he said. There was a long pause. “This house is too small.”
Had she heard him right? Was he making a joke about her house?
Then he pulled her into his arms, into him. She crushed her face against his chest to avoid meeting his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her lower back and held her.
As quickly as Tina’s emotions
had flared up, they settled down again. She was breathing calmly again, breathing when Luca breathed. She was also feeling very foolish.
She pulled away and looked down at her fingertips.
“That’s not too bad,” she said. “Just a little red. Probably won’t even blister.” She pointed to the offending pan. “I grabbed that stupid thing without an oven mitt.”
“Is that the only thing you’re upset about?”
She wiped her eyes with a paper towel and put on a cheerful face.
“I’m fine.”
“Tina, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Except for the obvious—I’m a cheap drunk, and an emotional one.”
She grabbed the glass of wine he’d poured for her, and glugged it back as proof.
“Anything else?”
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t behave perfectly.” She pointed to her face and whisper-yelled, “SORRY I’M A JERK.”
“Apology accepted,” he said. “Are you sure I can’t help you with anything in here? Now that I’ve wedged myself into your kitchen, I don’t know if I can get out again.”
“I guess we’re stuck together. Trapped in the kitchen.”
“There’s nowhere I’d rather be.” His gaze went to the meat. “What is that? Half a cow?”
“That’s what I said when Rory... uh, popped by earlier to say hello.”
He gave her a bemused look. “You mean your best friend, Rory, who works as a caterer? She just happened to pop by?”
She squeezed her way around Luca’s large body and handed him the salad bowl to take to the table. “Nope. This Rory drives a garbage truck. You must be thinking of your other girlfriend’s best friend.”
“I do get all of you confused,” he said.
He helped her bring the rest of the food over to the table—or at least as much as would fit on the small surface.
They sat down, and he refilled her glass.
“This is really nice of you to make me a home-cooked dinner,” he said. “It’s been a while since somebody took care of me like this.” His eyes were shining.
She felt something in her chest, like her heart was trying to tell her something.
