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“Great. Tell me what to do first.”
“Well, there are only four ingredients. Actually, five. If you follow my bunica’s recommendation.”
“Okay,” I say.
“So, traditionally, there’s only feta, ricotta, puff pastry, and an egg.”
“And what is Bunica’s special addition?” I ask.
“Just a little sprinkle of dill.”
“Ooh, okay. Yum!” I love dill. “We should do it Bunica’s way. Never question a grandmother.” Dean grins at my words, and my stomach flips at the way his smile makes his lips curl.
I watch Dean roll out the pastry, and I’m starting to think that Dylan may have been underestimating his dad’s cooking skills.
As I’m mixing the cheeses, I accidentally elbow Dean in the ribs as he moves to clean a dish in the sink next to me.
He grunts, so I know that it hurts.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry,” I say, stopping what I’m doing and putting my hands on his shoulders. “Are you okay?”
And then his gray eyes look up at me, gaze moving from my eyes down to my lips, and my heart feels like it’s going to jump out of my chest. Reflexively, I watch, transfixed, as Dean’s eyes shift from silver to black as his pupils get larger. He presses himself further into my space, his head tilting down, and…
“What’s for dinner? It smells really good.” Dylan suddenly says, as he bursts through the front door. Mina follows soon after. It’s like she’s become his permanent shadow as of late.
I bring my hands behind my back, like I’ve just touched something scalding, which I have, and clasp them together as if nothing happened.
“Oh! Bunica’s Placinta cu Branza. Nice,” Dylan says, bouncing over to us.
“Yeah, buddy. It seems like you may have been underselling your dad’s ability to cook,” I say.
“This doesn’t count. He made this thousands of times as a kid,” Dylan pouts, and I can’t help but laugh at his expression. He looks like a sad puppy, so I reach over and ruffle his hair.
“Come on, you two, dinner will be ready soon. Go wash up,” I say, ushering the kids out of the kitchen. “Mina, can you go tell Grandpa?” My daughter pauses for a second but nods and rushes out the door.
I look over to Dean. He’s still in a bit of a hunched-over position, but he nods. A moment later, he straightens up and returns to the dishes. Maybe it’s the light of the evening sun coming through the kitchen window, but for a second before he moved, I swear I could see longing in Dean’s gray eyes.
Chapter nine
Dean – Reconsidering the Plan?
After dinner, Dylan and I return to our apartment. It’s starting to feel less and less like home lately and more like a place we come to get some sleep, but I’m sure once the farmhouse is demolished and the condos are underway, things will return to normal. I unbutton my shirt, toss it into the hamper, and walk into my ensuite bathroom. The vanity is enormous, with a double sink. Not that the other side gets much use.
As I brush my teeth, I reflect back on the day. I can’t believe how much Mae got out of me as we drove to Bruce’s together. I said things to her that I’d never dreamed of saying to another human, not even myself.
And then she stunned me with that kiss. I’m so torn. I know that everything needs to remain platonic between us but it’s getting more difficult by the day. How I wanted to pull her to me and never let her go, to kiss her until our mouths were bruised, to…. And then whatever I said, I can’t remember exactly, was like I doused her with a bucket of water. She just ran away, both literally and figuratively. I felt a hesitation in her the rest of the day. Even though she helped with dinner and it seemed she was just fine, I got the sense that she was somehow faking conversation and even her sense of happiness. I’m pretty sure I really screwed up by whatever I’d said.
My ribs still hurt a little from where Mae jabbed me, but the pain is worth it. The fragrance of her floral perfume, the warmth of her palm as she grabbed me, and the look in her hazel eyes as she gazed into my soul were intoxicating.
All of the time Dylan and I have spent with her family, and the joy that it seems to be bringing us, is making me consider backing out of the plan for Cornel Condominiums altogether. That way, I could just earnestly and honestly ask her out. Our families could continue to get closer, the time we’ve spent together becoming more than two neighbors helping each other out. Maybe I could even get back into doing my art…and who knows what else that future could bring. But I’ve already sunk a lot of money into this project, and I can’t let the investors down. They’re sticking their necks out just associating with me, the brother of the idiot who almost cost us the entire company. If I back out now, I’d be an even bigger mess up than him.
Despite my resolution to put some space between us and the Dales, I can’t help myself from wanting to be around Mae, so I head back over there the following day after work. I tell myself it’s just to keep up appearances, but I’m brave enough to tell myself, at least, the truth. Of course, Dylan also doesn’t pass up the opportunity to be around her daughter.
Mae’s in her beekeeping suit, on her way back to the farmhouse, when we arrive.
“How are they holding up? Has there been a coup yet?” I ask her. Dwight warned us that if the other bees didn’t accept the queen, they’d overthrow her.
“So far, so good, I think,” she answers after removing the headpiece. She shakes her dark hair from her face.
