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I held up my hands. “Stop. I get the idea.”
“Yeah? Know anyone?”
I let myself drown for a moment in his eyes before slowly shaking my head. “Sorry, no. You’ve described a cross between Wonder Woman and every single woman on the planet. Heck, I qualify for all but the last one. We both know I don’t love to cook.”
He snickered. “I guess I need to refine my thoughts better.”
My smile was tight as I pretended that his words weren’t a barb straight into my heart. “I guess you do.”
3
AUSTIN
“Wait. What?” Megan came back into the kitchen, her hands planted on her hips. “Kayla has a date and she didn’t call me?”
“Take it up with her. Although, she’s second-guessing, so maybe that’s why.” I shrugged before turning my attention back to the soup I was stirring on the stove. It was my night to cook dinner, and as much as I appreciated that sharing a townhouse with my sister meant I had to cook half as often as I would otherwise, I still wished for someone who wanted to take over the task full time. I could hire a personal chef—money certainly wasn’t an issue after the whole stock market thing Scott talked me, and the rest of our group, into. But it seemed so…billionaire. I didn’t want that.
“I’m going to text her.” Megan shot me a narrow-eyed glare. “Don’t you talk her out of it. It’s about time she started dating someone who appreciated her.”
“Has she been dating someone who doesn’t?” That was news to me. I frowned. I didn’t like it. Kayla and I didn’t have secrets from each other. We were BFFs. I told her literally everything. I thought she did the same.
“No.” Megan’s face shifted into a scowl. “Never mind.”
“I don’t—wait.” Ugh. Megan had disappeared from the kitchen doorway. Probably to go text Kayla. Was I supposed to have kept my mouth shut about the date? Kayla hadn’t said anything about that.
In fact, Kayla had been pretty short on details in general when it came to her date with Luke. I frowned and turned off the stove. The soup was ready. The grilled cheese sandwiches were warming in the oven. I’d made them first, because whenever I tried to cook things simultaneously, I burned something.
Megan was tired of burned food.
And she hadn’t been excited about my plan for her to take over all the cooking.
“Dinner’s ready!” My holler would reach wherever she’d wandered off to. That was one—of many—nice things about living in a townhouse in Old Town. Of course, this was an older one, so the walls were thinner. I should be a little more careful about yelling, but our neighbors had to be used to it by now. And the family on the left had a newborn, so it wasn’t as if they had much room to complain when I got to hear all the nursery sounds at two a.m. And four. And six.
I ladled soup into two bowls and pulled out the sandwiches. They were still toasty. I sliced them in half diagonally and arranged them on a plate, before carrying the whole mess over to the kitchen table. I had to go back to get spoons and make myself a glass of seltzer water.
Where was Megan?
Whatever. She could let her food get cold if that’s what she wanted. I folded my hands in my lap and bowed my head. Thanking God for the food was easy, but when I’d finished that, it still felt like there was more I needed to say. I just didn’t know what that was. Was it Kayla?
I huffed out a quiet, “Amen,” and dipped my spoon into the soup.
Megan strolled into the kitchen staring at the phone in her hand. She sat then looked up. “Did you pray?”
I nodded.
She bowed her head and prayed so fast it looked like she was nodding. “You’re an idiot. You know that, right?”
“Seriously? You haven’t even tasted it yet.” I scowled and took another bite of soup. Sure, it wasn’t the most amazing thing I’d ever made—I was reasonably sure I’d added too much water. Because of course I could mess up a can of condensed soup. “Maybe I should hire a personal chef. That’s a thing, right?”
“Yes, Mr. Moneybags, that’s a thing. I can get you a link after dinner.” Megan chose a triangle of grilled cheese and dunked it into her soup. “But that’s not what I was talking about. At all.”
I set my spoon down and crossed my arms. “Okay. Then why? Why am I an idiot this time?”
“Seriously, Austin? Kayla. Has. A. Date.”
“Okay?” I was the one who’d told Megan, so I really didn’t understand what she was getting at. “I’m not going to help her choose an outfit. We might be best friends, but I draw the line at fashion and feminine hygiene.”
“Oh my word. I can’t even with you.” Megan stood, grabbed a second sandwich triangle, and picked up her soup. “You’re hopeless.”
