Chapter 11 #2
If Jorja tried that, she’d be mopping wine off the floor for sure.
She glanced at the almost empty wine bottle and decided it was ridiculous to put a finger width of wine back in the fridge, and topped off the one remaining glass on the counter.
She wasn’t going to worry if it was rude not to offer it to the others or not.
I’ve had a bad day. I’m drinking the freaking wine.
When I finish this glass, I might even go back for more.
Dealing with Jerk-God might be a lot easier if I’m drunk.
“Have a seat.” Gunnar apparently had found an ounce of manners somewhere. Wouldn’t his momma be so proud? He even pulled out a chair for her.
Because it was awkward just standing there like a plank, Jorja sat down.
She eyed Gunnar warily as he went back to his chair at the top of the table.
Silence filled by the music from the sound system stretched between them.
Just when she’d started to relax and sip on her wine, the asshole had to go and stop it by asking a question.
“So.” Gunnar twirled the glass in his hand. “What it is you do, exactly?”
Why the heck couldn’t he read the room? The last thing she wanted was him judging her life choices.
“I’m in acquisitions.” That sounded like a reasonable way to describe what she did, right?
“Antiques, paintings, stuff like that.” Gunnar’s glower screamed doubtful.
She wondered if he knew how expressive his face was.
“You know what you do is illegal, right?”
What a jerk!
“No, it’s not.” If it wouldn’t be a waste of the perfectly good grapes who’d died to make this wine, she’d consider throwing the whole glass at him.
Instead, she made do with throwing him the dirtiest look she could muster.
“I’m not stealing anything,” she insisted.
“I’m not selling anything either for that matter.
I’m just finding obscure stuff and telling the people with money where to find them.
” Once she’d built up her indignation, she wasn’t able to stop herself from adding on, “You are an asshole if you think I’d do something illegal.
I’m not stupid and I do have morals, fuck you very much. ”
“Could have fooled me.” The asshole’s feathers weren’t even ruffled. “It was a stupid move to come to Italy and try to locate us. Especially because of a list you know nothing about.”
Oh, she felt like an idiot alright. There wasn’t a need for him to point it out to her. “Don’t I know it. I only wanted to help.” She sipped some wine, striving for patience she didn’t feel. “My freaking bad. If I hadn’t recognized your name, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
Slapping that smirk off his face would be reasonable… right?
If not, it should be.
Remi chose that moment to drop the fries into the hot oil.
The sizzling and hissing noise was the perfect backdrop to the temper she could feel bubbling inside her.
Jorja glanced over her shoulder to see him pulling a red tub from a cupboard and latched onto the opportunity to change the subject. “Is that the sauce?”
“Yup.” Remi spooned some of it into a pot, closed the tub, and handed it to her. “We get it sent from Ireland, because it’s the only place you can get it.” He took a whisk from a utensil stand and started whipping the saucepan. “It’s not spicy. It’s kinda fruity.”
She didn’t care if it was burn her tastebuds off hot, McDonnells curry powder for the subject changing win.
“Someone grab the mango chutney,” Remi called over his shoulder. “It’s in the door of the fridge on the middle shelf.”
“I got it.” Jorja was more than willing to help, even if her escape from Gunnar’s intimidating scowl only lasted a couple of seconds.
“Gunnar, quit being a dick,” Remi, bless his cotton socks, clearly saw how uncomfortable she was, and took it upon himself to distract his brother, “and grate the cheddar as Talon used the last of it for lunch.”
“Asshole.” But Gunnar got to his feet and grabbed a metal grater from a hook near the stove. “Who made you boss?”
“Mom, the last time she called,” Remi shot back, “said I was to keep you in line or call her and she’d be on the next flight.”
“If you bring Mom over here, I’ll kick your ass.”
Jorja handed Remi the chutney and went back to her wine at the table. If the brothers were bickering, then Gunnar wasn’t focusing on her. She’d take it. A noise behind her made her glance over her shoulder at the door and she recognized the man who stood there, along with the dog at his side. “Hi.”
“Hey, I’m Talon.” He nodded to her and moved further into the kitchen. She noticed he went around the furthest side of the table rather than pass by her chair, and went to the stove to peer into the pot. “I thought I smelled fries. Is there enough for me?”
“If you peel more potatoes, I’ll fry them,” Remi replied.
“Awesome.” Talon grabbed a handful of potatoes and came to sit at the table in a chair furthest from where she sat. He mostly ignored her and made a start of peeling the potatoes directly onto the table.
Jorja winced internally when Talon didn’t use a paper towel under the skins. How he didn’t cut himself with the knife either, she’d never know, because that was one huge knife for such a small potato. She sipped from the wine glass, almost spilling it when something nudged at her elbow. “Hi.”
“Behave, Zombie,” Talon ordered.
“He’s okay,” she reassured him, then turned back to the dog. “You and I would be better friends if you had warned me there was an asshole in the restaurant.” She carefully reached for the dog’s head and smiled when he allowed her to rub his ears. “Aren’t you a handsome boy?”
“Someone grab some plates,” Remi called. “Tal, if you want your fries cooked, hurry up, because I’m not standing here all night.”
“Hell no.” Gunnar opened a drawer. “The dishwasher is already on. We’ll use paper plates, that way we can just trash them when we’re done.”
“You just don’t want dishes in the sink.” Another brother appeared in the doorway. “Is there enough for me too, or do I gotta do the peeling thing?”
“I got you, bro.” Talon nodded to the pile of peeled potatoes in front of him and handed the knife to his brother. “You get to slice them while I wash my hands.”
Gunnar dropped the paper plates on the counter next to Remi and some packages of disposable cutlery in the center of the table.
Before Jorja knew what was happening, Remi placed a huge helping of fries covered with curry sauce and melted cheese in front of her.
The smell… wow… just wow! She probably wouldn’t be able to make a dent in the mountain of food.
But oh boy, if it tasted half as good as it looked, heaven in the shape of a food coma was definitely in her near future. “Thank you.”
“Eat up.” Remi smacked at the fork the fourth brother aimed at her plate. “Don’t you dare touch her food. Not everyone likes to share, Colt.”
“Crap, sorry.” Colt winced in apology. “I forget not everyone grew up with hounds for brothers.” He turned away to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of something, and handed it to her. “To get the authentic experience, you gotta have malt vinegar on the fries.”
Vinegar on fries? She glanced doubtfully from the bottle to her plate and back again. “Is this some Italian custom I don’t know about?”
“Nope, it’s as Irish as curry cheese fries are.” Gunnar placed a plate of food in front of Talon and handed another to Colt. “Go sit down and eat.”
“I didn’t know your family was Irish.” She picked up one fry from her plate, shook some vinegar onto it, and sniffed it before deciding it didn’t smell as weird as she thought it would. Jorja popped the fry into her mouth and hoped it tasted as good as it smelled.
Holy hell, that’s yummy.
Yum—eeee!
Why haven’t I had vinegar on fries before?
Flavor and saltiness exploded over her tastebuds, a marriage of yumminess that she could totally get on board with. “These are awesome.”
“Right?” Gunnar was the last one to sit down. “A friend of ours in Texas, Matt G., only eats his fries with vinegar on them. He made me try them one night at his place in Texas. They’ve been a favorite ever since.”
She could see why. Given the silence as they munched on the curry cheese fries, she could tell how much all of them enjoyed this midnight snack.
She made it about halfway through the plate of food before she had to admit defeat.
She lowered her fork to the plate and leaned back against her chair, patting her belly. “That was so yum. Thank you, Remi.”
“You’re welcome.” Remi pushed his empty plate back. “Did you have enough?”
“Yeah. I can’t eat another bite,” Jorja assured him.
“Not even cheesecake gelato?” Gunnar interrupted. “I might be able to scrounge up some when we get to my place.”
“Whoa, bro.” Colt refilled wine glasses around the table. “You’ve been holding out on us?”
“You aren’t invited to my place.” Gunnar narrowed his eyes at his brother. “And I’ll know if you try to pick the locks.” He pointed his fork at all three of them. “Stay out of my freezer, understood?”
All of them, even Talon, who Jorja had determined was the quiet one, pouted at Gunnar’s question.
Cheesecake gelato must be freaking awesome if it was enough to make these grown men pout like little boys.
“I don’t think I could fit any.” She already knew she couldn’t.
“I mean, I could try, but I don’t think I’d do it justice. ”
“Cheesecake gelato is something you have to be able to do justice to,” Gunnar agreed. “I’ll give you some to try tomorrow.”
She didn’t understand why just having this meal with the brothers had removed most of her anger… she just knew it had.
That’s okay, I’m sure it won’t be long before Jerk-God annoys the crap out of me again.
“Then let’s go to bed.”
Hah… less than thirty seconds. That’s how long it takes.