Page 88 of Baker

He rubbed his hands together. “Let’s make a deal.”

I reached for my coffee. “Okay.”

“Saturday nights, let’s have a standing date. When we’re done, you can stay all night here. Sunday mornings, you make those eggs.”

“I like it. Let’s do it.”

He held his clenched fist over the table. “Gimme some fist.”

I pounded my hand against his.

I cut into the edge of my last egg. “If you like eggs so much, why don’t you cook them in the mornings? You’re self-employed. It’s not like you’re going to be late to the office.”

“I can’t cook.”

“What do you mean?”

“That food in the fridge? Goose got it at the store. I couldn’t even tell you what’s in there. If he doesn’t cook it, I don’t eat it.”

I lowered my fork. “What about that night--”

“Our first date?” he asked.

“Yeah. All of the Brazilian food?”

He pointed toward the refrigerator. “Goose.”

“The left-over lasagna in the fridge?”

He wagged his finger. “Goose.”

“The peppers and chicken that’s in a zip-lock, and looks like it needs tossed out?”

He wagged it again. “Goose. He’ll toss that out. He always does.”

I chuckled. “How long has he been cooking for you?”

“Fifteen years or so.”

“Wow. That’s a good friend.”

“We’re more than friends. We’re brothers. In time, you’ll see just how close we are.”

“I can’t wait.”

“You’ll see through their actions.” He reached for his coffee. “Couple of ‘em aren’t keen on talking. But you’ll see by what they do and how they act that we’re noting but six brothers who share a few common bonds.”

I hoped he was right. My guess was that although they might eventually warm up to me, the process would be slow.

Very slow.

After interrupting their schedule, taking one of their men’s time, and then stealing his heart, I couldn’t see them welcoming me with open arms any time soon. I took the last bite of my egg and recalled Mort’s words of wisdom.

We can’t let what might happen keep us from doing what our heart tells us is right.

That simple phrase was I needed to remember.

THIRY-EIGHT - Baker