Best Served Cold (19 page)

I nodded. “No question. I mean, Hulk, he’s got the brute strength, but not so much with the reasoning skills, right? Captain America is hot in a clean-cut retro way, but he’s still getting up to speed on the twenty-first century stuff. Thor’s just a visitor. He’s not from earth. And Hawkeye and Black Widow...well, they have potential, but not the whole package. Yet.” I eyeballed what I hoped was a tablespoon of tomato paste and added it to the pan.

“You’ve obviously given this a lot of thought.” Jesse stood with his arms crossed on his chest.

I grinned at him. “I never thought I was a geek. I don’t love comic books or anything, but I have to admit, I’m a sucker for superhero movies.”

“What about Spiderman?”

I raised my eyebrows. “Oh, yeah.”

“Which one? New or old?”

I checked the pasta. The penne was still a little too al dente. “New. I don’t have anything against Toby, but Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone?” I fanned myself. “Yeah. Definite chemistry.” I cut off a chunk of Parmesan cheese. “I guess there’s no chance you have a grater?”

Jesse smiled. “That I do have. The one meal I can make is nachos, and I like to shred my own cheese.” He dug into a drawer and handed me the flat grater.

“Thanks. But just so we’re clear, nachos are not a meal. They’re a snack.” I grated the cheese over the sauce.

“Oh, come on, they have all the major food groups.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “You got your corn in the chips, that’s vegetables. You got your cheese, that’s dairy. Toss on some chili from the can, that’s protein, right? Perfect meal.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Do you have a colander?” At his look of complete ignorance, I elaborated. “You know. To drain the pasta. Like a bowl with little holes in it?”

“Pretty sure I don’t.”

“Okay, then, do me a favor. I’m going to pour the water out into the sink, and I need you to hold the lid on the pot so the penne stays in. Got that?”

“I think I can manage it.” He stepped closer to me, and I breathed in his scent—a slight undertone of cologne, his shampoo and something that was uniquely Jesse. I bit my lip and focused on not burning either of us with the steaming water.

He watched me add the pasta to the saucepan, toss them together and lift the whole thing from the stove.

“I never knew cooking could be such a turn-on to me.”

I shook my head at him, smiling. “Jesse, what isn’t a turn-on to you?”

He considered. “About you, nothing. At least nothing I’ve seen so far.”

“Well, then, get ready...” I dropped my voice into a seductive whisper. “Dinner is served.”

We sat at the counter, and I scooped out servings onto the white plates I’d found in the cabinet. Jesse speared some penne and took a bite.

“Oh, my God.” He closed his eyes. “I totally renounce nachos as a meal. This is incredible. I’m sorry, I think I’m going to have to keep you here to cook for me forever.”

“Hey.” I bumped my shoulder against his as I ate. “What is this, 1950? If you want to keep me in the kitchen, you need to offer some incentive.”

“I provided the movie. What else do you want?”

I raised one eyebrow. “Use your imagination. Again.”

Jesse was quiet as he ate, and I wondered if I’d said something wrong. Before I could get up the courage to ask, he spoke.

“I do use my imagination. Probably too much.” He flashed me a quick smile. “But I wanted to tell you, this isn’t normal for me. I know this is going to sound like a line—yeah, again--but it isn’t. I’ve dated girls, like I told you. But I haven’t had anything I’d call a serious relationship, you know? And I’m not usually, like...” He reached out and touched the side of my face, just the barest skim of fingers on skin. “Like I am with you. If I’m not touching you, I’m thinking about when I can touch you. It’s crazy.”

I stabbed a noodle and ran it around the edge of the plate, keeping my eyes down. “I’m not like this, either. And full disclosure, you know that kind of long-term relationship I talked about the other night? It was my first.”

“Your first...?” There was question in his tone, although I wasn’t sure exactly what he was asking.

“My first everything.” I swallowed, still not able to look at him “In high school, I had a group of friends, and we all hung out. If there were big dances, we just went with each other. I liked guys, but they never liked me back. The ones who did like me, I only liked as friends.” I lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “So I never ended up having a real first date, a first kiss...I know, loser, right?”

“No.” Jesse reached across and captured my fork-free hand. “The girls I dated in high school didn’t like me as more than friends, and I felt the same way toward them. I had a huge crush on someone who didn’t know I existed. She was dating a guy who was in college, but in my fantasy world, she suddenly saw me and realized I was the one she really wanted.” He grinned. “I spent way too many Saturday nights trying to get up the nerve to call her.”

“It was her loss.” I turned my hand over and laced my fingers into his. “What about in college?”

Jesse grimaced and looked away. “I’d like to say I was totally focused on academics, but I went a little crazy. My dad and Sarah got married right before I graduated from high school, and even though my parents had been divorced forever, I hated that he had a new family. I was living on my own for the first time, and I partied pretty much all the time. I met girls who didn’t care that I wasn’t on the football team or popular, and I, um, dated a lot of them.”

“And by ‘um, dated’, you mean--”

“I mean one-night...dates. I’m not proud of it.”

I squeezed his hand. “You went off the deep end.”

“You might say. By winter break of sophomore year, I was failing three classes, my GPA had tanked and my dad came to visit. He wanted to tell me in person that Sarah was pregnant, and that I needed to get my shit together, because I was acting like a spoiled brat.”

“Really?” I always saw Danny as a soft touch. He didn’t let Desmond get away with everything, but he was definitely the more permissive parent.

“Oh, yeah. It was good timing, because I was sick of it all anyway. So that spring, I had an insane class schedule. I brought up my grades, and I figured out my major. And I stopped, um, dating so much.”

I pushed away my almost-empty plate. “Why did you ask me out? Did you think I was going to be one of those girls you ‘um, dated’?”

Jesse smiled. “I’m not going to lie, that first day I saw you, ‘um, dating’ was definitely on my mind. You were on the sofa, looking all sleepy and soft. I was like...” He sucked in a deep breath. “Like, who is this? And then Dad and Sarah said how great you are. Des never stops talking about you. But I didn’t want to get back into the party spiral in grad school. I promised my dad I’d be focused on my classes here, and I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t.”

“What changed your mind?”

He tugged my hand until I slipped off the stool and braced my feet on the floor, closer to him but still leaning on my own chair. “It was three things.” He held up one finger. “First, you can cook. I’ve never met a girl who can do that. Or at least a girl who’s as gorgeous as you and can cook.” He let go of my hand and snaked an arm around my waist. “Two, you love Joss Whedon. That shows excellent taste.” He leaned just a smidge closer to touch his lips to mine. “And last, every time I saw you, I wanted to touch you. To kiss you, or hold your hand, or even just brush past you. It was getting overwhelming. I was either going to ask you out or grab you while you were here taking care of Des. The going out seemed like a better idea.”

“It does,” I agreed. “I’m glad you did.”

“I really like you, Julia.” Jesse tightened his hands behind my back and lowered his mouth to my ear. “More than I remember liking anyone, ever. But if I get too much, if you feel like I’m too--” He rubbed up my back. “Too intense, you’ve got to tell me. I don’t want to push you into anything.”

I smiled up into his eyes. “Like I said before, do you hear me complaining? I promise. If I start to feel that way, I’ll tell you.”

“Cool.” He hugged me tight for a moment and then shifted back. “I know we should take things slow. At least I keep telling myself we should. You just got out of a relationship, and you were hurt, I know.” He slid his hands up my side, grinning. “I still really want to ‘um, date’ you. So remember that even if I seem to hold back, I don’t want to.”

I took a deep breath. “I’ll try to remember.”

“Then I guess it’s dishes time.” He stood up and snagged both of our plates. “You cooked, I clean.”

I got home late on that Sunday night, but I was still surprised to see that the room was dark and Ava was in bed, the blanket pulled up over her ears.

“Ave, you sleeping?” I said it softly, and she didn’t even stir. Frowning, I hung up my coat and went into the bathroom to change for bed. It wasn’t like Ava not to wait up for me. As a matter of fact, when Liam and I were dating, I always had to remember to call her on the rare occasions I spent the night with him, so she didn’t worry.

I thought about it as I washed my face, brushed my teeth and pulled on pajamas. Ava had been acting weird since last weekend. She had seemed okay when I’d gotten home Friday night, after my date with Jesse; we had stayed up talking, and the only odd thing was that she hadn’t said much about her conversation with Liam after I left. I had expected to hear a full play-by-play, but she’d only shrugged and given me a vague answer.

Something was up, and I wondered if Liam was the cause.

Ava didn’t move when I clicked off the bathroom light and climbed into bed. It was a long time before I was able to slow down my mind enough to fall asleep.

Desmond was waiting for me at the window Monday afternoon when I arrived at work. He came running out the door the minute I stepped from the car.

“Doolia!”

I stooped to catch him, but he wriggled from my arms and grabbed my hand. “Come and see!”

He dragged me toward the kitchen, where Sarah stood, learning against the counter, smirking.

“Slow down, buddy.” I managed to stop long enough to shut the door behind me and drop my bag on a chair. “Where’s the fire?”

He giggled and kept tugging at me. “Not a fire, a kitty!” He knelt by a small round cushion, where a tiny gray kitten was sprawled, sound asleep.

“Oh, Des!” I sank down next to him and touched the cat with the tip of my finger. “Who is this?”

“Choo-Choo.” Desmond leaned over and buried his face in her fur. “Nanny and Poppa gave her to me.”

I glanced up at Sarah, who rolled her eyes. “True story.”

“Did you even know they were going to do that?” I dropped onto my backside and leaned against the wall.

“Oh, yeah, they called last week to ask me. Well, more like beg me. He’s wanted a cat so much. They have a neighbor whose cat, um--” She glanced at her son. “Well, she got into trouble. And they needed homes for the kittens, so here we are.”

“Choo-Choo?” I stroked the kitten’s delicate paw.

“Oh, it could have been worse. He wanted Caboose at first. We decided she’s gray, like the smoke that comes out of the old locomotives.”

“She’s my kitty, and I being vewy dentle with her.” Desmond demonstrated his gentleness by petting her between the ears with two chubby fingers. “See? She’s a baby. You have to be dentle.”

“I will, I promise.” I kissed the top of his head and got to my feet. “Did you have a good visit with your parents?”

“Yes, we did. We stayed too late. We didn’t get home until almost midnight, so everyone slept in this morning. Danny was late getting to class, and Des and I have been dragging around all morning.” She dropped her voice. “He’ll be good for an early nap, I think.”

“Gotcha.” I searched for something else to say. Sarah and I had an easy relationship, but I wasn’t sure how she felt about me dating her stepson. Jesse kept saying she and his dad were fine with it, but still...men didn’t always pick up the nuances that women did.

“I didn’t even get to the grocery store this morning. I took out a chicken to defrost, but I don’t have anything done for you to put in the oven.”

“Why don’t you let me make something?” I suggested. “Maybe chicken and dumplings?”