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“Roasted poblanos. Mom’s secret ingredient.”
“Nice.” Next, he admired his slice of bread. “Cornbread has a great crust.”
“That’s cast iron for you.” The rest of our dinner conversation was dull as dishwater, and I wasn’t surprised when Cal leaped up the second he finished his bowl of chili.
“I’ll clean up for you.” He collected our empty dishes and headed to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. “Dishwasher need emptying first?”
“You don’t have to help.” In truth, the cooking had tired me out, but I’d managed to clean the kitchen on worse nights, and I had everything arranged so I could do the job largely from my chair.
“Course I do.” Cal gave me an incredulous look. “Even after pulling a twelve or more, if Mom cooked, my dad cleaned. Someone makes a meal for you, you help with the mess. Those are the rules.”
His expression brokered no objections, but his tone earned a smile from me as I was simply relieved that his determination had more to do with morals than my abilities.
“Well, in that case, have at it. Dishwasher’s ready to be loaded.” I packed up the leftover chili and then moved to the edge of the kitchen area, staying out of the way but watching him work. And never once in all my forty-odd years had watching someone clean turned me on, but Cal attacked my counters and stove like it was a sacred obligation. And then he scrubbed my fridge, microwave, and dishwasher fronts until they gleamed, and I had to resist the urge to swoon. “If you clean like that every time, I’ll cook more often.”
“I’m serviceable in the kitchen.” Cal shrugged like compliments hurt. Or perhaps that was his stitches. “And I can cook. Fish. Meat. Basics. I can pull my weight as a roommate, but if you make more stuff like that cornbread, I’m in for clean-up duty.”
“I’ll stock up on mixes,” I promised, although Cal sure made me want to pick up some from-scratch skills. “Skillet works great for brownies too.”
“Neat trick.” Cal sounded all nonchalant, but his hungry eyes gave him away. I was making brownies tomorrow, and that was that.
Kitchen done enough for the moment, I rolled toward the living room before Cal could decide to mop or clean the baseboards.
“Now, who do you think our friend Timber will pick for the final group?”
“You want to watch the next episode of that dating show?” Cal trailed along after me.
“Do you have a better idea of how to spend the evening?” My tone was off-handed, but then my gaze caught Cal’s and something unexpected sizzled between us. Call it heat or potential or even unintentional innuendo, but whatever it was, it was potent, thick, and heady. Suddenly, I had a whole list of ways to spend the evening, none involving the TV. Although more than one involved my couch.
“Nope. Guess your idea is as good as any.” Cal headed to the living room, shaking his head like he was also trying to break free of the spell between us. He plopped on the couch, a wide number with a chaise on one end that was easily the coziest place in the house. I grabbed the remote before transferring to the couch to sit next to Cal, who made a startled noise. “Oh.”
“Sorry. Should have warned you. I usually leave the chair to watch because the viewing angle is better, and also, it’s good for me to move around some. This okay?”
“It’s fine.” Cal’s mouth twisted, and I moved toward the chaise to give him more space. Scrubbing a hand over his super short hair, he made a frustrated noise. “You… Not sure how to put this, so I’ll just say it, and you tell me if I fuck it up. But if there are things you need help with, something drops and you can’t reach it, or like that night with the trash where you fell, you ask, okay? I ain’t a mind reader, and I don’t know what you might need doing because I don’t have the most experience with wheelchair users, but if I can do it, I will.”
“Wow. Cal. That’s a lot of words.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you did great.” I laughed so he’d know I hadn’t taken offense at his offer. “And honestly, I suck at asking for help. I have Tyler, the cleaning service, and I handle my personal care myself these days, although I did have home health in the early days as I learned how to handle stuff like showers. But if I need something specific, I’ll try to ask.”
Cal responded with a mighty glare, and I held up my hands.
“Fine. I’ll ask. But you have to promise to do the same.”
“You’re already giving me a place to stay. You fed me. What more could I ask for?”
My chest thumped. Anything. Cal could ask me for anything, and I’d likely try to give it. But I couldn’t scare him off with such a fanciful thought, so I simply said lightly, “Friendship? Or is that on your list of things you don’t need?”
