“You aren’t even going to eat the food you helped make?” He looks shocked that I’m leaving. Was he planning on me staying?
As tempting as that is, I know I can’t stay. “Nope, I have Chinese takeout and some wine waiting for me at home.”
“Oh, so it’s fine for you to eat takeout?”
“Yep, I don’t have children to bond with, and my roommate and I get along just fine with our takeout.”
He smiles and walks me to the door. Cassie asks me to stay for dinner on the way to the out, but I turn her down gracefully, and she goes on setting the table.
We reach the door, and Dylan says, “Thank you for helping me with dinner.”
“You’re welcome, and it’s really no big deal. You really should consider cooking classes.”
He shakes his head, “There’s always something with you. Learning from you right now is enough. And the next lesson, you’re staying for dinner.”
“So, you want more lessons, huh?”
“I don’t think the natives are going to be happy with meatloaf and mashed potatoes every night, so I’m hoping you have more to teach me.”
“Yeah, I’ve got a lot more recipes. So, lesson number two next Tuesday?”
He smiles again and nods before reminding me that I’m staying for dinner as well. Each week is getting better, and I can’t believe how far we have come in a little over a month. Tonight turned out far better than I expected it to with Luke speaking civilly and Gabby showing us a picture she drew, it was beyond anything I expected when it comes to the Monroes.
We say our goodbyes and plan on meeting up next Tuesday. I tell him I’ll text him the shopping list after he picks out a menu for next Tuesday. Briefly, I wonder if I should say something about what they’re going to eat in the meantime, then swiftly rein in the curiosity. I have no desire to leave tonight on a bad note.
I walk out to my car feeling satisfied with the progress I’m making. It’s a feeling that’s eluded me since becoming a social worker, and it all has to do with this once impossible family.
I feel lines beginning to blur.
Chapter 9
Dylan
Why isn’t there anything in this damn book that calls for seven different kinds of cereal, milk, chips, or day-old donuts? I’ve been going back and forth between an empty pantry and an even emptier refrigerator then comparing it with the 250-Simple Recipes for Beginner Cooks book that Brooke brought over two weeks ago. Unfortunately, I have nothing. I’m exhausted though this week has been productive at work and even more productive at home. Brooke’s visits have been the hit of everyone’s week since the first night she helped me cook dinner. The second week she had texted me the ingredients for homemade macaroni and cheese and grilled chicken breasts. Needless to say, it was a hit. She stayed for that meal, and the night had been a blast for everyone, even Luke dropped his attitude. She relaxed, and the rest of us fell right in line with her easy laid back mood.
She seems to be sliding right in on all of us, and I don’t have it in me to stop it. The more I’m around her, the more I want to get to know all of her. She’s beautiful with an understated sexiness that I bet she has not even aware of. I can’t fucking stop thinking about what she would look like or be like if she would let herself go. When she comes over now, she, at least, changes into jeans and t-shirts, but she keeps her hair up in that damn bun. I’ve imagined pulling the pins down and running my hands through it until I’m making myself crazy.
It seems my weeks are becoming all about Tuesday evenings. In between, Cassie and I have been trying recipes. Unfortunately, the pantry dries up and so does the fridge. Oh, well, it’s looking like pizza tonight. I pull my cell phone out of my pocket when Cassie bounces happily into the kitchen. “So what are we cooking tonight?”
“I was just about to order pizza. Our cabinets are pretty empty; I’ll go shopping tomorrow.”
“Sounds okay to me. Sooo….” She still has a huge grin plastered across her face. No doubt some cheerleading thing is about to fill in the blessed silence for the next thirty minutes while we wait on the pizza.
“What’s up, Cass?”
She smiles so big I think her face might break. I’m just about ready to crack a smile myself at that thought, until she opens her mouth, “Okay, so I got asked to the homecoming dance next Friday!”
Shit. Why couldn’t it have been some cheerleading thing? I’m not ready for my little sister to start dating. I just stare, because I have no idea how to put the words, “Fuck no,” nicely, and not hurt her feelings. So I clear my throat loudly. It’s not without notice that she is excited about this, and I don’t have a clue how to burst her bubble without upsetting her, so I go with, “Oh yeah?”
“Yes. I can’t believe it! Brent, this really hot basketball player, just came up to my locker today and asked if I wanted to go with him. I mean, we have talked a few times at lunch, but I had no clue that he was into me.” I swear her voice has raised four octaves in the course of this one sentence.
Shit, what to do, what to do. All I can think is this isn’t good. A basketball player that she doesn’t even really know all of the sudden wants to take her to a really important high school dance. “Cass, I’m happy for you, but you have to be careful with boys your age, well really with any guys.”
Her eyes roll way back, so far back I think it might be dangerous, “Dylan, I’m not a kid, I just turned fifteen last week. I’m three years away from being a legal adult.” What the hell is her point? “I can handle a date at a homecoming dance just fine.”
Well good for you, is what I think. What I say, “Okay, I’ll drive you and this boy to the dance and back. Find out his address.”
“You don’t need to do that. He has all that covered. He’s 17, so he has a car. But there is one place you can take me, shopping. I need a dress.”
I’m sure my brain is short circuiting. Hell, I’m sure smoke is seconds away from coming out of my head if it hasn’t already. I have nothing intelligent to say, and even less to think. Did she just say 17, own car, and shopping? I know I must have missed something. Number one, my sister is not going on a date with a 17-year-old horny little fuck, basketball player alone. And in his car? Uh, no. And shopping? I hardly shop for myself, and I sure as shit don’t shop in a dress shop. No way. “A dress, huh?” That’s what comes out when I should be shutting down this crazy I-have-a-date conversation she started.
“Yes, I need a semi-formal dress that will help me get Brent’s attention.”
This girl is killing me. “I don’t think getting his attention is a problem here, Cassie. He’s already asked you out. And I just don’t like this idea. How about, if I take you shopping on Sunday, will you please call him and tell him I’ll drive you guys, or hell, tell him you’ll meet him there.” I’m flat out begging my little sister not to go on this date. Fucking pathetic.
“No, Dylan. I’m going with Brent, and you’re taking me shopping for a dress. Don’t ruin my life by embarrassing me.” Awesome, she thinks I’m ruining her life like I used to accuse our father of all the time. What the fuck do I do here?
My mind goes to Brooke. I need to talk to her about this. Is 15 too young to date a 17-year-old? “Cassie, just give me a little time to process this. Let me think. I’m going to order pizza for us and, I don’t know…..” I look at her eyes that are pleading with me to let her go on this date that I know isn’t a good idea. Sure, I “dated” girls her age in high school, but those girls weren’t my sister. I don’t want my sister to be a girl like they were. I can feel myself breaking out in a sweat here. “Cass, I’ll let you know before you go to bed. Let me get everyone fed and just think, please.”
Time for her to turn on her charm, “Thanks, Dylan.” She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and dances out of the kitchen, and I sit down at the dining room table. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I don’t think I’m just overreacting to this sudden date idea. My mind drifts to where it always goes these days. Broo
ke. I wonder what she will think about this.
I order the pizza from a local place that the kids love, and then hit Brooke’s number in my contacts. I refuse to analyze why I need to talk to her about Cassie going on a date, but there it is. Even if she doesn’t agree with me, at least, she’ll make me feel better about letting Cassie go out with this kid. Somehow and I can’t for the life of me figure out when it happened, but just listening to Brooke’s reassurance has managed to talk me off the ledge on several occasions. She just makes everything make sense. And I need to add tampons to my shopping list before I start my first period.
She picks up on the second ring, “Hey, Dylan.”
“Hey, umm….okay, here’s the thing…..you see, I just don’t know what…..I need your advice or approval or…..”
“What’s going on, is everyone okay, Dylan?”
“Yeah, everyone’s fine. Cassie just hit me with something, and I’m not sure what I should do, if I should let her go. I know it’s a school dance, but I’m not sure she’s…..”
“Dylan, stop. You have to give me something here. Does Cassie want to go to the homecoming dance?”
“With a boy, wait, a 17-year-old boy who has a car.”
She laughs, fucking laughs, at me, “You know she’s going to want to date at some point. She’s a good girl, and you’re going to have to trust her. Just set a curfew, meet the boy at the door, and let him know when she needs to be home. And relax, I promise things will be fine.”
“How can you promise that? I know what 17-year-old boys think about and what they want to do to pretty girls who get in their cars.”
“I can promise you because I know Cassie. She’s smart, and she knows if she messes this up that her big brother won’t let her date again until she’s 25.”
“Ha, ha, smartass. Okay, I’m going to trust you on this, but you can bet your sweet ass I’m going to have one hell of a long conversation with her, and probably the little fuckwit who thinks asking my 15-year-old sister out is a great idea.”
“Oh, my God, Dylan. Seriously you need to relax. When’s the dance?”
“Next Friday after the game.”
And thank God she offers, “Would it make you feel better if I talk to her?”
“Would you? Please, I’ll owe you so big, Brooke. Just, I don’t know….hey, tell her how she shouldn’t let a boy touch her until, like, I don’t know, the tenth date, that’s reasonable don’t you think?”
Why does she have to giggle so sweetly? “I promise to talk to her about boys and first dates and what’s appropriate and inappropriate. Now, would you please just stop over thinking and worrying yourself to death, because this is just the beginning, and then you’ll have to start all over when it’s Gabby’s turn.”
“Yeah, well, don’t think I’m going to let you off the hook when it comes to Gabby.”
She’s quiet for a beat too long. I know she heard what I accidentally let slip, and now she’s retreating into her head. “I promise I won’t let you down, Dylan. Now have dinner and check homework for school tomorrow. I’ll give Cassie a call or talk to her on Tuesday.”
“Thanks, Brooke. I’ll talk to you soon.” I hang up the phone and wonder where I lost my brain-to-mouth filter because surely I didn’t just reference a future in that conversation that included Brooke. I turn when I hear footsteps approaching the kitchen.
Jax joins me in the dining room as I’m hanging up the phone, “Where the hell is dinner, Betty Crocker?”
The ass has been having a blast with me learning how to cook, but it’s something I have enjoyed. I’m just not telling him that, and I’m damn sure not letting him know how much I like spending the time with Brooke either texting her crazy questions about shopping list or cooking with her. I haven’t seen anything, in my 26 years, sexier than Brooke Porter cooking in my kitchen.
She allows herself to relax and laugh and joke with me. I think she almost forgets our roles. We dance around each other in the kitchen when I put my special playlist on that I made just for cooking with Brooke in the kitchen. We tease each other over our tastes in music and movies. We talk about dream cars, and this girl knows her cars, which is entirely too much of a turn on by itself.
It still bugs the shit out of me that I’ve only talked her into eating with us once. I know she had a good time with us that evening. I didn’t miss how reluctant she was to leave when we had finished cleaning the kitchen. I also know she’s attracted to me, I’ve seen her watching me when we cook. I’ve seen her shy smiles when she knows I’ve caught her looking. I’ve felt her shiver when I brush up against her.
The problem is, she’s entirely too much into her head. The fuck of it all, I know why. She’s our social worker, and this attraction has, don’t go there, in big fucking letters. It’s just that I don’t care anymore, and I know that makes me a selfish prick, but I want to shake that girl out of her shell. I want to suck on her bottom lip that she likes to stick out at me when she pouts or nibbles when she’s concentrating, and when she makes that luscious “O” shape when she’s surprised or right before she laughs, I nearly bust a nut. I just want her, and I can’t come up with a good argument why I should stop wanting her. The circumstances may be for shit, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve never given much consideration about the right or wrong of a situation; that’s why I ended up fucking Joy, even knowing it was a mistake. When I want something or someone, I just go for it.
I’ll save these thoughts for a more private time, and then I inform Jax, “Pizza will be here in thirty.”
He sits at the table. “What’s up with you man, your face has a scared shitless look?”
“Yeah, well I just had a fuck-me moment with Cassie. Seems she has a date next Friday with a boy and he’s got a car. He’s taking her to the homecoming dance.”
“Oh, shit. Do you know who he is?”
“Some dipshit on the basketball team, I don’t know him, except his name is Brent. Maybe I’ll ask Luke about him. But that’s not the fuck all, man. She wants me to take her shopping for a new dress.”
“Um, that’s sweet and creepy at the same time, dude. Oh, and you guys have fun with that.”
“You wanna go?”
“Oh, fuck no. Hey, why don’t you ask your social worker to take her? Seems like she loves to help, I mean, she’s giving you cooking lessons for Christ’s sake.”
Jax has still yet to meet Brooke. Tuesdays are the only days he doesn’t come over, and for some reason, I’m cool with them not meeting. Brooke was supposed to go to the football game last week, but she ended up having some emergency, so I got to avoid them meeting for another week. I think about what he said, maybe Brooke would like to go.
“Yeah, maybe.”
He smiles suspiciously, “You’re going to ask her, aren’t you? You know I was kidding.”
I shrug, “Why not? She does love to help, and I know nothing about this girly shit.”
“Yeah, but…” He stops himself. “Cool, I’m sure Cassia will have fun. And since she’s so fucking uptight, she’ll probably push Cass into getting a dress that even a nun would okay.”
The pizza finally arrives and thankfully the conversation is over. I’ve done everything I can to hide my attraction to Brooke. The problem is that I mention her, a lot, as do the three older kids. Gabby has come around and now smiles when Brooke’s name is mentioned. I call the kids to the table, and we all sit down to dinner. Cassie, of course, dominates the conversation with everything cheer. I notice she keeps looking over at me with a hopeful look, and I’m sure I’m returning the same look. She wants me to say yes, and I want her to forget this stupid idea of dating.
The next day after work I head over to the Social Services building to ask Brooke in person if she will go shopping with us. After I had gone to bed last night, I thought more about what Jackson said. I know Cassie would love Brooke to take her, because if it isn’t cheerleading or boys spilling from her mouth, then it’s, Brooke this and Brooke that. Which right now, I
’m fucking happy about. I didn’t say anything to Cassie because I didn’t want to get her hopes up, but I have a feeling that helping Cassie dress shop isn’t something that Brooke will turn down.
It’s a little after five when I park my truck and see Brooke’s Ford Focus still in the lot, but no sign of her. When I step into the building, I spot her instantly in the hallway. She’s backing away as far as she can from a very large man who’s standing entirely too close to her. The fucked up thing is he’s in her face yelling something about his kids. I move quickly next to them, “Brooke?”
They both look over at me; however, the big guy doesn’t move away. And I see fear in Brooke’s eyes. I don’t like that, at all. “Dylan, what are you doing here?”
I ignore her question, “Are you okay?”
The man looks back at me, “Who the fuck are you?”
He still hasn’t moved away from Brooke, and I struggle to keep calm, I need to avoid physical confrontation if I can. I just keep reminding myself that the kids count on me, and it’s the only thing that keeps me from ripping his fucking head off. I growl, “I’m your worst fucking nightmare if you don’t back away from her.”
He looks back at Brooke, “Aw, is this your boyfriend? How cute. He won’t always be around to protect you, though, little Miss. Priss. I will be back.”
He finally steps away from her, and I can see relief sweep over her pale face. He leaves with one last threatening look toward Brooke, and I move closer to her because I can feel her shaking. “Are you okay?”
Her face turns from scared to stubborn. “I’m fine; I had it under control. You didn’t have to do that.”
I smile, who the hell does this girl think she’s kidding? The guy was huge, and she wants me to think she could handle him. Big, dumb, and pissed off doesn’t make for a safe situation. “You know, a simple thank you would work, Brooke.”
She smiles and rolls her eyes playfully, “Thank you, Dylan. So what brings you here? Is it time to have the ‘talk’ with Michael?”
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