Outside the Lines (23 page)

Georgia was appalled at this rule, but no matter how much I might’ve wanted to climb in bed with Jack, I was going to wait for him to suggest it.

“You just don’t want to get rejected,” Georgia said accusatorily.

“Damn right I don’t,” I told her. Since my failed romances in my early and midtwenties with Wyatt and Stephen, I’d created all sorts of guidelines around my relationships to minimize my chances of getting hurt. I didn’t date artists. I broke it off immediately with anyone who made a promise and didn’t keep it or any man whom I caught lying. I didn’t expect perfection, but I did expect honesty and follow-through. So far, Jack was hitting the mark.

My mother was thrilled, of course, that I was dating again. “When do we meet him?” she asked during one of our Friday morning check-in phone calls. “Can you come for dinner next week?”

“It’s a little early for that,” I said. “Let’s make sure I don’t scare him off first.”

“Now, why would you say that? You’re wonderful.”

“You’re my mom. You have to say that.”

“I do not. If you were horrible, I’d tell you.”

I laughed. “Gee, Mom. How comforting.”

She sighed. “I want to meet this man.”

“How about we wait to see if we last until Thanksgiving? If we do, I’ll bring him to dinner.” The holiday was only three weeks away, and with how well things seemed to be going with Jack, I was almost positive he’d agree to have a holiday meal with my family.

“Perfect!” She was immediately appeased, and I hoped Jack didn’t mind my making that kind of promise. We hadn’t discussed where our relationship was going or how serious it was, but if how he kissed me was any indication, we were definitely on the same page.

The Tuesday following my conversation with my mother, Bryce called me and asked if I’d come over to his apartment and help him make dinner for a girl he wanted to impress. I said yes right away.

When I called to tell him where I was going before dinner at the shelter, Jack said, “You’re very sweet. And your brother’s sneaky.”

I laughed. “He’s not sneaky. He’s just nervous and doesn’t know where to start in the kitchen. The boy lives off protein shakes and egg whites. I started the pork for tonight’s dinner at the shelter yesterday while I was at work, so all I have to do is reheat it, sauce it up, and make the coleslaw and brownies.” The meals I’d served at Hope House so far had been hugely popular and this week, pulled pork sandwiches and coleslaw were on the menu.

“You are a culinary wizard. I don’t know what we ever did without you. I’ll see you later, then?”

“Absolutely.”

“Can’t wait.”

I arrived at Bryce’s apartment around eleven o’clock in the morning, which left me plenty of time to put together a great meal for his date. I texted him from his building’s parking garage and told him to come down and help me carry up what I’d brought.

“Ed!” he exclaimed, grabbing me for a bear hug when he arrived at my car. “You’re the best sister anyone could ask for, you know that?”

“Yes, I know.” I opened the trunk and pointed to the laundry basket full of food I’d brought. “There you go, big guy. Let’s get started.”

We headed up the elevator and into his tiny apartment. It was clean, at least, which was more than I could say for my own house. Pretty impressive for a bachelor pad. Our mom must have passed on her neat gene to him instead of me. I entered his galley-style kitchen and he set the basket down on the dining room table right outside the linoleum. I clapped my hands together.

“Okay! I need you to slice onions. Like this.” I gave him a quick demonstration of how I wanted the onions cut.

“What am I making?”

“Mini caramelized-onion-and-goat-cheese pizzas with balsamic reduction and cilantro to start. Lemon chicken and grilled asparagus for dinner, and coconut-pineapple sorbet for dessert.” I grabbed the container of sorbet from the basket. “Speaking of, I need to get this in the freezer.”

Bryce grinned and ran a hand through his blond buzz cut. “Lisa’s going to flip. She probably thinks I’m a muscle-headed idiot who can’t cook.”

“You are,” I teased. I set the dessert in the freezer and pulled the chicken breasts out of their packaging to pound into thin cutlets.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t need to know that.” Bryce took the Walla Walla sweets and started peeling away their papery skins.

“Why not? Take it from me. Lying to her is not the best way to start off a relationship. Maybe she’ll think it’s adorable you asked your big sister for help.”

“Who says I want a relationship?” Bryce said. He started cutting the onions in half and into quarter-inch slices, as I’d directed. “Maybe I just want to get laid.”

“Nice.”

“I’m kidding, Ed. I like Lisa. She’s a total hottie.”

“Do you know anything else about her, besides that? Or is her being hot all that matters?” I didn’t often play the wise big sister to Bryce, but in the flush of my new feelings for Jack, I felt the urge to impart some of my hard-earned relationship knowledge to him. I suspected that his raging hormones might make my efforts pointless, but I felt I could at least make an attempt.

“Of course that’s not all that matters.” He grinned again. “She likes to work out, too. So we have that in common.”

“Oh, well then. Clearly, you should be married immediately.”

He wadded up a piece of onion skin and threw it at me. It missed but landed in the sink.

“I’ll tell you someone who’s more than just hot,” he said. “Your friend Georgia. I’ve seen her at the gym a lot lately. She’s hilarious.”

“You guys talk?” I asked. Georgia had mentioned that she was working out at the same gym where Bryce was a trainer, but she hadn’t said anything past that.

Bryce nodded. “She asks me for advice on her workouts, mostly. She dropped her trainer. He was a dick.”

“Yeah, I think she got tired of him telling her to exercise. Is she paying you?”

“Not yet. I haven’t really asked her to be a client. It’s more just a friendly thing. I do check out her rack when we talk, so I guess in a
way
she’s paying me.”

I swatted him with a dish towel. “You be nice to her or I’ll kick your ass.”

He held up his beefy hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll be nice. I was just kidding. Sort of.”

“Yeah, sort of.” I went back to pounding out the chicken breast between two pieces of plastic wrap. “She’s a little curvy for you, anyway, isn’t she? Don’t you like the hard-bodied gym bunnies?”

“She’s bigger than most girls I’ve dated, yeah,” Bryce said thoughtfully. “But she’s healthy and takes care of herself, you know? That’s all that really matters. Plus,” he added, “there’s something appealing about what those fleshy curves might feel like against my rock-hard abs.” He pounded both his fists against his stomach in emphasis.

“Oh, please!” I rolled my eyes.

“You find your dad yet?” Bryce reached into the refrigerator and took out a handful of cooked shrimp and shoved them in his mouth. “Sorry,” he said with his mouth full. “Hungry.”

“Apparently.” I gave the onions a stir and set them on low to gradually caramelize. “Don’t you think I’d tell you if I’d found him?”

He shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Well, I would.” I paused, setting the spatula on the counter. “I did find some of his old paintings, though, and a box of his things.”

“Really? What was in it?” Bryce took another handful of shrimp and chomped down on them.

“I don’t know.” I looked away and focused on organizing the supplies I’d brought for dinner.

“You haven’t looked?” I shook my head and Bryce raised his eyebrows at me. “Why not? That’s nuts.”

“It’s not nuts,” I said defensively. “I’m just not sure if I’m ready to see what might be in there. It was hard enough seeing his paintings.” I told him about the Garden of Eden and finding my father’s depiction of it.

“Huh. I’d still want to go through it.”

“I will. It just might take me some time to work up the courage.”

“Mom’s not too happy about your doing all this.”

I sighed and started using a biscuit cutter to create flatbread rounds for the pizza appetizer. “I know. She’s made that very clear.”

“Then why keep doing it?” Bryce dropped into one of his dining room chairs and watched me work.

“Because I need to. Whether I find him or not, I need to feel like I did everything I could. It’s complicated, Bryce. He’s my dad and he’s sick.”

“It’s hurting my dad’s feelings, too, you know.”

I stopped cutting and looked at him. “What?”

His eyes met mine. “He feels like he wasn’t good enough or something so you want to find your real dad to make up for it. That’s what’s getting to Mom the most, I think. That it’s hurting him.”

“She never said anything to me about that,” I said, slightly taken aback. John was always so jovial around me. I never thought about his being upset by what I was doing and immediately felt bad for it. “Maybe I’ll talk to him and try to explain.”

“I don’t know how much good it will do. He’ll just pretend he’s not hurt. The big bad fireman can’t show any weakness.” There was more than just a little scorn in Bryce’s tone. “‘Toughen up, son!’” he said, mimicking his father. “‘You want those other boys to think you’re a pussy?’”

“Bryce . . .” I started to say, but he waved his hand, dismissing me.

“You don’t have to say it, Ed. I know he loves me. But he’s never going to see me as anything other than a skinny little boy.”

“But look at you,” I said. “How can you say that when you’ve gotten so big? And brown?” Bryce’s Oompa-Loompa look had morphed into more of a dark tan since I saw him at his competition. It was still a little extreme, but at least he no longer appeared like he would glow in the dark.

He flipped me off and I laughed.

“Come on,” I said. “Get off your ass. I need you to get the asparagus ready and squeeze the lemons. Think you can do that, muscle man?”

“Anything for you,” my brother said, and I knew he meant it. Besides seeing my mother so happy, the best thing that came out of her second marriage was definitely Bryce.

With all our jabbering and goofing around, it took about two hours for us to finish prepping and cooking the dinner. I left him around one o’clock with written, step-by-step instructions on how to reheat the meal. I ran back home to let Jasper out, then over to my work to pick up the forty pounds of slow-cooked pork I’d made the night before. I’d gotten the meat at cost from my supplier and within the Hope House dinner budget. Juan helped me load the two enormous plastic tubs of meat into the back of my car and wished me well for the evening.

“I’ve got everything under control, boss,” he said. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Thanks, Juan. You’re the best.” I gave him a quick, impromptu hug and was on my way. Anticipation danced in my belly as I drove to the shelter, knowing I’d get to spend the next ten hours with Jack. I drove around the back of the building to drop off the plastic tubs at the kitchen door. Rita answered when I knocked.

“Eden! Good to see you.” She was wearing capri jeans and a tight pink T-shirt emblazoned with the phrase
wag more, bark less
.

“Good to see you, too,” I said. “I come bearing meat. Lots and lots of meat.”

“Jack’s right there.” She nodded toward an empty, dirt-filled lot on the other side of the alley. “Hey, buddy!” she hollered with her hands cupped around her mouth. “Your lady has arrived with dinner!”

Feeling ridiculously pleased at being called Jack’s “lady,” I stood on my tiptoes to see over the top of my car. He strode toward us with a smile. “Hi,” I said with a wave. “What’re you up to?”

He came around my car and stood next to me. “Just checking out the lot, trying to figure out what in the hell to do with it.”

“It’s yours?” I asked.

“Yep,” Rita said. “It was part of the property deal when you bought this place, right?”

Jack shot her a hard look and a flash of guilt lit Rita’s face. “I’m going to get the coleslaw started,” she said. “I’ll see you inside, Eden.”

“Okay,” I said. “What was that about?” I asked Jack after she’d gone back into the kitchen.

“Oh, nothing.” He turned to face me and leaned in for a kiss. I felt butterflies all the way down to my toes. He pulled back and smiled, touching the tip of his nose to mine. “Hi.”

I grinned, feeling giddy. “Hi.”

“I want to do something with the lot, so I was just hanging out in it a bit, waiting for inspiration.”

“Any luck?” I asked, placing my hands on either side of his waist. I could feel the warmth of his skin through his shirt.

Jack sighed. “Not really. I was thinking maybe an outdoor sleeping area, but I’m not sure about the zoning. I’ll have to check it out with the city.” He peered into the backseat of my Honda. “What’s in the tubs?”

“A crap-ton of pork. I need a burly young man to help me get it in the kitchen and into some pots so I can sauce it up. Know of anyone?”

“Well, I’ve got the young part down, but I don’t know about the burly. I might have to call Tom in to pinch-hit for me.”

I punched his arm playfully and he let me go to open the door and carry the containers inside. I went to park my car and came back to the kitchen to find Jack and Rita in an intense discussion. Jack’s face was close to hers and Rita was nodding but frowning too.

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” I asked.

Both Jack and Rita looked up and immediately rearranged their expressions into smiles. “Oh no,” Rita said. “Just business stuff.” She brightened her smile further. “Want to get started? Word’s gotten out on the street about your mad cooking skills. I think we’ll be busy tonight.”

“Really?” I said. “I’m glad.” I looked at Jack. “Are you staying to help?”

He shook his head, still smiling. “No, I’ve got a ton of paperwork to do. Come get me if you need any more heavy lifting.”

“You know I will,” I said. I was disappointed he wouldn’t be hanging out in the kitchen with me for the afternoon, but I smiled and waved him off. It was a fine line between showing him how interested I was and sending him running from my rampant need to be with him every minute. Nothing drove a man off more quickly than a clingy woman.