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I sat on the sofa opposite Dad. “The miracle was that Dad didn’t die from that gunshot wound.”
Dad had been drinking himself into an early grave for years, but when he’d been shot, it was the first time I’d contemplated life without him. And I hated it.
I felt Tyler studying me, and I met his gaze. “So, what’s for dinner?”
“I have two options for you.” He put his beer bottle on the counter. “Fish tacos or fish and chips.”
I blinked at him. “Fish tacos?”
“Yeah, you have most of the ingredients I usually use.” He opened the fridge, and when he bent over, I got a mighty fine view of his ass.
“I brought tomatoes with me and these wraps here.” He pulled a packet from the fridge and showed it to me. “Not exactly taco shells, but they’ll do.”
“Huh. Okay, fish tacos get my vote. Dad?”
He grumbled. “Sounds horrible.”
I chuckled. “Don’t worry about him. Dad eats chips every night.”
Tyler swigged his beer, plonked the bottle down, and then rubbed his hands together like he was about to perform a magic trick.
If I was about to be treated to a decent meal, then that would be magic.
Sipping my beer, I settled back on the sofa. As Tyler found his way around our simple kitchen, I was treated to an evening show like I had never had before.
Since Mom was murdered, Dad always did the cooking on Rhino, and he knocked a meal together like he knocked our equipment together. Tyler, however, prepared the meal like he was cooking for the queen. He even chopped the onions with precision. Dad massacred his onions.
By the time I’d finished my beer, the meal smelled amazing, and my stomach was growling like a pit bull. I was fascinated by Tyler’s cooking show way more than I should be. Or maybe it was just his sexy ass. It was nice to have some eye candy for a change.
He glanced at me over his shoulder, and I snatched my gaze away.
Damn, he caught me checking him out.
I needed a distraction, but I couldn’t make myself leave my front-row seat. I grabbed another beer, returned to my chair, and said, “You never answered me on whether you have scuba dived before, Kingsley.”
As Tyler stirred the meal in the heavy pan with a wooden spoon, he said, “About ten years ago, I did a scuba diving course in Fiji.”
“Ten years ago? What were you? Sixteen?”
“Yeah, actually, I was. So, that means it was thirteen years ago.”
He looked much younger than twenty-nine. Clearly, life had treated him well. Unlike me, I was thirty-three and felt like I’d lived for fifty years.
“And you haven’t dived since?” I asked.
“No.” He shrugged. “Haven’t really had time.”
I sipped my beer, and he turned back to the pan, running the spoon around the edge. “Okay, this is nearly ready. Where do you eat?”
“Right here. Where do ya think?” Dad did an exaggerated eye roll at me.
Tyler pulled out three plates and turned off the heat to the pan. Come and get it.”
He stepped back, presenting the meal like it was a prized catch.
Dad grumbled as he sat forward, and I offered my hand to help him stand. “Come on, Old Man, up you get.”
“I’ll give you Old Man.” Dad stood without my help. He was only fifty-nine, but he could pass for seventy.
