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The
last time I was here, she seemed so upset and had taken me downstairs to speak
in private.  She hadn’t wanted to upset Dylan after she had been the one to
push for getting a new house, and he had obviously done everything to make sure
everyone got exactly what they wanted when they decorated their rooms.  It had
all just boiled down to her missing the home her parents had made for their family
and having to process what it meant to move on without them.  I simply told her
that her parents would want her and her siblings to keep living and creating
new memories and that where they did that didn’t matter as long as they were
together as a family.  I also assured her that I would do whatever it took to make
sure it happened.  I smile, “I’m so proud of you, Cassie, and I can’t wait to
see you at the game.  Just text me when it is.  Are you still able to keep up
in school okay?”

“Of
course.  We have to keep our grades up to stay on the squad.  And I’ll get you
a schedule of all the games so you can come to as many as you can.”
She’ll
probably have me shaking pom-poms by the end of the season.

“Sounds
good, sweetie.”

I
turn to Michael, who went back to school yesterday following his three-day
suspension, “How was school?”

“Okay;
no one messed with me.”

I
smile and notice a slight grin from Dylan, “Well good. I’m glad and don’t
hesitate to tell someone if they do.”  He nods.

I
take a breath and turn to Luke, “How was your first football game?”

“Fine.”
Still so much work with this one.

“I
want stats, man.  I know you play wide receiver, so how many receptions,
touchdowns, and yards are we talking.”  I already know because I read the
paper.  I’m just trying to draw him out.

Finally,
he grins, “Two receptions and seventy-six yards.  No touchdowns this week.”

“That’s
fantastic, Luke.  When I watch Cassie, I’ll get to see you too, and I want a
touchdown.” 

He
nods, “We’ll see.”

I
turn to Gabby next then reach across the table to tickle her ribs.  “How about
you Gabby, school going okay?”  She smiles slightly and smiles briefly.  I wish
I knew what to do for this little girl.  I watch her silently get up and leave
the room.

 Turning
back to the others, “Alright guys, before I teach your brother how to cook an
awesome meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, is there anything any of you needs
to talk to me about?” 

After
a round of “no’s,” they get up to go wherever it is they go.

“Okay,
well it sounds like everything is going great. Dylan, we can just catch up in
the kitchen if that’s okay.”

He
nods and calls out to the kids, “You guys do your homework, I’m going to
attempt to make dinner.”

They
all groan and look at me with worried faces before leaving the room.  I call
out to their backs, “Don’t worry so much, I’ll be supervising every step of the
way. “I smile and head into the kitchen with Dylan following closely behind me,
the smell of his cologne is attacking my senses, but I’m determined to remain
professional.

Behind
us, I hear the small feet hurrying after us.  It’s Gabby with a piece of paper
which she holds out to me.  I take it from her with a cheery “thank you” and
look at the picture of the Monroes and their new house in the background. 
Dylan moves to my side and looks at the picture with me. 
It’s a breakthrough,
a small one, but it’s one. 
I elbow Dylan softly in the ribs to get him to
speak.  “Gabby, this is wonderful.  Don’t you think, Dylan?”

He
looks briefly at me before focusing back on his sister.  “I’m so proud of you,
sis.  I’m going to hang it on the fridge, do you want to help me?”  She squints
at Dylan and me for a second before shaking her head before turning and heading
back to her room.  Dylan looks a little sad, so it’s time for me to lighten the
mood.  He needs to realize that even though it was small, it was something; so
I tell him so and proceed to the kitchen. 

Dylan’s
kitchen is simply beautiful.  It’s a huge production with granite countertops
and stainless steel appliances that make it the star of a chef’s wet dreams,
and I cannot wait to get started with cooking lesson
numero uno
.  “I
love this kitchen.”

I
gaze at the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room.  There’s no
other word to describe this one structure, except to say, it’s divine.  It’s
big enough to seat at least ten people around it.  I can see the Monroes
gathering around for family dinners or huge holiday spreads with it full of
food so everyone can fill their plates before heading to the dining table.  Not
that I have experience in anything like that, but I do have dreams of a large
family and dinners and holidays.  I find myself wishing for a big family of my
own, just like this one.  But now isn’t the time to dwell, I need to teach
Dylan how to prepare meals for
his
family.  It’s my job.

Dylan
grins pleased after turning from hanging Gabby’s picture, “Yeah, too bad it
doesn’t get used.”

“Well,
we’re about to change that.” I pull a simple cookbook out of my purse. “Ta-da.
I bought it yesterday, and the recipes are all very easy to follow and are all
for beginners.  Did you have time to pick up all of the ingredients?” I had
sent him a text yesterday with a list of everything needed to make meatloaf and
mashed potatoes.

He
nods and goes over to the fridge taking out ground beef, eggs, onions, and
ketchup. Then grabs some crackers out of the pantry. “I think that’s
everything.”

I
smile, “Yep, and potatoes?”

He
picks up a bag of potatoes off of the floor. “Got them.”

“Great.
So you just need a big bowl and a pan.”

I
have to laugh when he pulls a box of never-before-opened pots and pans and
another full of mixing bowls, baking dishes, and casseroles.  I have to admit,
I’m impressed when I see they’re from
Food Network
.  Seriously, this man
is killing me.  He gets them out and sets them on the counter.  “What, I didn’t
know if I had what we needed to cook all this in, so I just went out and bought
everything.”

“Yeah,
well I think you thoroughly covered it.”  I wash my hands as well as what we’ll
be needing to for this meal.

“Here,
you might want to wash these too.”  I look at the counter beside the sink as he
opens up another box full of kitchen utensils.  Now I’m full on cracking up at
this man.

“You
seriously went out and bought everything didn’t you?”

“Hey,
I told you I didn’t know if I had what we needed.  I just wanted to make sure. 
And I figured you would like to break all this in.  You did say you like to
cook.”  Okay, this seriously sobers me up. 
Dylan Monroe did something nice,
for me?
  I’m feeling a little teary eyed here.  Moving.  On.

“Okay,
first things first.  You need to wash your hands before starting.” He saunters
over to me and grabs the soap over my shoulder. The contact of his arm on mine
sends a tingle through me.
Okay, Brooke, you’re acting like a teenager
.
I move and dry my hands on the towel by the sink as Dylan washes his hands.

Moving
to the island, I open the cookbook I brought with me.
 
Dylan follows me over and stands at my back, and he’s standing close.  I try
not to let the feel of his front to my back affect me, but it so does.  “Okay,
so all you do is read this recipe and follow it closely.” I sound like a 13-year-old
girl, all high voice and breathy.  Geeze, I need to get a grip.

“It
doesn’t look that hard.” He’s reading over my shoulder.

I
give him a hip check, really to escape his proximity, which could prove
dangerous for his wellbeing if he doesn’t move. “It’s not, trust me.”

He
smiles and reads the recipe, then grabs the hamburger to open it. He empties
the container into the large mixing bowl and begins adding the other
ingredients. “So I just mix all this together?”

I
smile, “Yep, with your hands.”  I can tell he’s not thrilled about that part.
“Just stick them in and go for it.”

“Okay.”
He puts his hands in and just pokes around.

“Really?
That’s how you are going to mix all of that stuff together? Put some of those
muscles to work.”

He
grins a big, beautiful grin. “So you’ve noticed my muscles?”

I
smile and try like hell not to blush, “I’m not blind, Dylan. Now show me how
you can use ‘em.”

He
starts kneading the mixture, his arm muscles flexing as he does.
Focus
Brooke, and not on his muscles.
“See, it’s not that difficult.”

“Where
did you learn to cook?”

“My
grandma, she was old school, everything had to be from scratch.”

“That’s
cool. That’s pretty much how Sylvia was.”

“Your
step-mom?”

He
nods, “Yeah, she loved to cook and bake for us.”

“It
sounds like you were fond of her.”

He
pulls his hands out of the hamburger mixture. “Yeah, of course. She was a good
mother to me.  She didn’t treat me like her step-kid, she treated me like I was
her own. Is that good enough, can I wash this shit off of my hands yet?”

I
smile, “Yeah, but you’ll want to put it into the pan first, and then you can
wash your hands.” He does what I say and then walks over to the sink to wash
his hands.

“It
sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

“She
was, she always put up with my shitty attitude and took it all in stride.”  He
was opening up to me. Maybe I had a shot at getting him to trust me. Slow and
steady, I need to be careful not to push it too far, but this conversation is
nice.

He
puts the meatloaf into the oven. 
Poor, poor boy.
  “Dylan, you need to
take that back out and preheat the oven.”  He turns and gives me a completely
confused look.  I take pity on him and show him how to set the temperature on
the oven controls.  “Alright, while it preheats we start on the potatoes.  First
we have to wash and peel them.” 
And he picks up the largest knife he has.
“Have
you ever peeled potatoes before?”

“Nope,
but this ought to do it, right?”

I
move to take away the knife and pick up the potato peeler handing it to him
after another hip check.  I should stop doing that.  “Hey, I like the bigger
knife better, and this thing isn’t even a knife.”

“Trust
me, you’ll be happy I showed you how to use this because you’ll get to keep all
your fingers.”

He
laughs, “Yeah, I’ll definitely be thanking you for that, so show me how this
works better than a big knife.”

“Alright,
you’ve got a lot of people to feed, so it’s going to take quite a few
potatoes.  You peel, and I’ll cube them for the water.”  I grab the large stew
pan and set it on the stove after filling it with water to boil while we work
on the potatoes. 

He
quickly masters the wonders of using a potato peeler, and I play it up like
it’s the most wonderful accomplishment in the world.  He laughs at my over-the-top
praise of how smart and able he is in the kitchen while we stand at the sink
and peeling potatoes together.  “Alright, smartass, you’re the boss in the
kitchen,” he concedes.

“Damn
right.  My grandma was a hard task master.”

After
a beat of silence, he asks me, “How did you know that moving would be so
upsetting?”

I
need him to trust me, so I try to be totally honest just like with the kids,
“When my grandma passed away, I had to make the decision to sell her house. I
wasn’t even living in it with her, but it was the house she raised me in, and
it hurt like hell to see someone else buy it. I had to, though, because there
was a lot of debt from her medical bills, and I was in school.  I knew I
couldn’t keep it, but I hated to let it go.  It took a while to adjust even
though I knew it had to be done.  All I had to do was remind myself that I
would always have the memories; those, at least, couldn’t be taken from me.”

His
face looks pained, “I’m sorry, that must have been hard.”

“It
was, but it was the right thing, just like you moving here. They all seem to be
adjusting now, so it worked out.  They’re young, and they’re going to bounce
back from all this easier than you think. Even Gabby.  You’ll be amazed.”

“Yeah,
it’s getting better. Cassie is finally excited. I just didn’t see her being
upset over it; she was so excited to move.”

“She’s
a teenager; moods change quickly.”

Our
arms touch again, and his intense eyes meet mine briefly before Luke stomps in,
“When is dinner, I’m starving.”

I
jump a little at his voice and turn around to look at him, “About an hour.”

“Is
it going to be any good? I just don’t see Dylan being able to cook.”

“He’s
doing fine, it’ll be delicious, you’ll see.”

He
shakes his head and walks out. Dylan finishes peeling the last potato, “Okay,
now what?”

I
show him how to cut the potatoes into little pieces and put them into a pan to
boil. While he does that, I grab the meatloaf and stick it in the oven before
moving back over to help him finish. We make some small talk, but mostly stay
quiet until I show him how to mash the potatoes. Finally, dinner is ready. 
Cassie walks in as Dylan is pulling the meatloaf out of the oven, “Hey that actually
looks good.”