Chapter 20
Tiana stood at the stove stirring and then lifted the wooden spoon to her lips, and there was the sharply sweet burst of tomato followed by the slightly tangy notes of garlic, onion, chili, and pepper flakes.
Her nerves were popping nearly as much as the water that held the noodles she was cooking in the large silver pot on the back burner.
She’d never made spicy marinara sauce before.
She hoped the recipe that she got offline was close to what it was supposed to be.
Once the oil was shimmering in the skillet, she lowered the marinara to a simmer, then placed the chicken cutlets that she’d put through her breading station and added a final touch of Parmesan with panko breadcrumbs, onion powder, garlic powder, and dried parsley.
After they were totally covered, she used tongs and dipped them each into the oil for three minutes on each side before placing them on a sheet pan with a roasting rack on it.
She poured sauce over the top of them and then poured marinara sauce and then mozzarella cheese.
She placed them into the oven and closed the door.
Her attention turned next to the pot, she removed the noodles that were in the boiling water and pulled the pot off the stove.
She drained the water, plopped them into the strainer, and rinsed them off under the cold tap water, drained, blanched, and sat in a neat nest, ready for plating.
She flicked a glance at the clock. Ten minutes to go before the chicken would be done.
She thought Niko would be home by now, his self-defense class ended over thirty minutes ago. Maybe he was avoiding coming home because of her. If he was, she wouldn’t blame him. She’d leave and go home, she just wanted to make dinner for him first.
In the calm before the final rush, she wiped down the counters and then, impulsively, grabbed a stack of votive candles from the sideboard.
She arranged them in a staggered line down the center of the table.
She added cloth napkins, rolled and tied with a strand of kitchen twine she’d found when she was looking for the strainer, and a pair of heavy-bottomed water glasses.
For a centerpiece, she used the stump of a rosemary bush, three sprigs clipped and stuffed into a jar with a little tap water, the scent of pine and citrus floating on the air.
Last, she grabbed the wine she’d gotten at the store.
She had just finished lighting the candles when the front door opened, and Niko’s voice, low, percussive, and a little out of breath, called out from the entryway. “Something smells good.’
She heard the heavy thunk of his boots on the mat, then the familiar rattle as he hung up his keys. She braced herself, suddenly nervous, her heart knocking on her ribs like a SWAT team on a bust.
Then he appeared from around the corner of the entryway looking like some sort of dark, avenging angel, dressed in a charcoal gray Waves hoodie and dark jeans faded in all the right places.
He had a way of making even casual clothes look like he belonged on a runway in Paris during fashion week or on the cover of GQ.
Maybe it was his strong jaw and muscular physique that made him look like he was royalty even in a paper bag.
He paused and did not say a word, just stared at the kitchen, then the dining area, and Tiana watched as his expression morphed from confusion to disbelief and then, finally, to wonder.
He looked at the table, the plates, wine glasses, napkins, and candles, then back at her, eyes starting to shine with a light that was almost childlike.
“What is all this?” he asked, his voice soft, as if afraid that saying it too loud would break the spell, as his eyes once again spanned the length of the table.
“This is a two-for-one thank you and apology dinner.”
His eyes met hers once more, and her knees went wobbly. They had a tendency to do that when he looked at her. His eye contact game was potent. She gripped the corner of the counter to keep her balance.
“You didn’t have to do all this.” His voice was deep, raw, and was giving her full-body goosebumps, something no man, or woman had ever achieved before.
“Yes.” She swallowed over the lust clogging her throat. “Yes, I did.”
He took a step toward her. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” She glanced back at the timer. “It will be ready in about five minutes. I mean, if you’re hungry.”
“I’m starving.”
Relief washed over her. So far, so good. “Great.”
“Okay.” He grinned, staring down at her, and the electricity was back between them, not that it ever left. The air between them was thick. She felt like he was going to say something, and she found herself holding her breath, but he was the one who exhaled. “I’m gonna…go wash up.”
She nodded, and Niko turned and walked down the hall.
For a few seconds, maybe thirty, she stood frozen, staring at the space Niko had just occupied.
That was how palpable the unspoken tension had been, it was still holding her captive.
Thankfully, her phone buzzed with a notification from Golden Years.
The notification had all of Pops pre-surgical paperwork that definitely snapped her out of the spell. She’d look at it all after dinner.
Tiana moved with the brisk, focused energy of someone trying to burn off …
tension. She grabbed the Greek salad she’d made from the fridge and set it in the center of the table.
A few minutes later the oven timer went off, and she pulled out the chicken and plated the food.
She’d worked at high-end restaurants several times during her life, so she could plate a dish like nobody’s business.
At the store, she’d grabbed a couple bottles of wine. He’d said in his interviews he liked a glass of wine with dinner but had not specified which kind. She’d barely set the plates down when Niko returned. His hair was wet, and he was wearing a different shirt and pants with bare feet.
He’d taken a shower.
The thought of him naked, in the shower, popped into her mind. Drops of water sliding down his perfect form. Emma Stone said that Ryan Gosling was Photoshopped in Crazy, Stupid, Love, and that was exactly how Tiana felt when she’d seen Niko.
An easy smile spread across his face, revealing that damn deep dimple in his right cheek as he approached the table and stopped up short.
When he saw the food, his smile dropped, and so did her stomach.
It plummeted right to the floor like it was anchored with an anvil.
She felt her heart rate triple and sweat break out at the base of her neck.
From his expression, this dinner was wrong. She’d clearly messed up. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, or like he was going to be ill.
“I’m so sorry.” She reached for both his plate and hers as she stood and panic rose within her.
Niko caught her wrist, holding her in place.
She froze, her eyes met his.
“You made chicken parmesan.” His voice sounded like it had been scrubbed with sandpaper.
Tiana wasn’t sure if that was a statement, a rhetorical question, or a question question. Whichever it was, she responded, “I did. I’m sorry.”
“Why…how…?”
Whenever Tiana was put under any stress she got nervous, upset, anxious, or uncomfortable and she had a cortisol and adrenaline spike, her body responded in one of two ways: either she had a panic attack, or she shut down.
She got as small and quiet as possible. That’s it.
She couldn’t control it. That was how she’d found yoga, it was recommended to her by a therapist because she didn’t want to be on medication for her panic attacks.
She hadn’t had an episode of either in years, but it didn’t surprise her that one was coming on now.
Not because of the dinner. It was cumulative from Brock being in town.
Her coming to stay with Niko. Pops needing a surgery.
Her already having financial hardship and having to come up with thirty thousand dollars. So many changes. So many unknowns.
When she opened her mouth, she honestly wasn’t sure any words would come out. She was actually surprised when they started tumbling out of her mouth. “I wanted to make you dinner, so I was going to call Frankie and ask what your favorite meal was, but then I thought that’s cheating—”
“Cheating?” His brow furrowed, but the corners of his lips curled in amusement.
“Yeah, what if I didn’t know your sister?
Then how would I know what your favorite food is?
I tried to look on your social media, but there was nothing like that on there, so I did some research, aka, google stalked you, and in the GQ interview you did your rookie year, you said it was your favorite meal, so I thought I would make it for you, but obviously I got it wrong, or they misquoted you, or you changed your mind, or something. ”
“No.” Niko guided Tiana’s hand down so that both plates were on the table, then they both lowered into their seats before he dropped his hand from her wrist. “You didn’t get it wrong, I wasn’t misquoted, and I haven’t changed my mind.
This is my favorite meal, I just totally forgot I ever told anyone that.
” He stared down at the dish. “That was before I had media training, and I learned pretty quick never to disclose personal information, and this is, um…” He cleared his throat. “…it’s pretty personal.”
“Oh…I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to, I didn’t mean to—”
“I know.” He reached over and covered her hand with his.
The heat, the warmth, and the comfort she felt from his touch sent a shiver through her.
It also caused the swell of panic to begin to subside.
“Stop apologizing. You didn’t do anything wrong, in fact, the opposite.
This is the kindest, most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me. ”