Chapter 6 #3
“Something wrong with your mouth, baby?” His smirk gives me the wiggles—those weird feelings that don’t really have an explanation, but if you know, you know.
Dropping my fingers to my side, I shake my head. “Nope, just thinking.”
“Uh-huh. Remember what I said about lying. You’ve already done it twice. I’m keeping track.”
I blink up at him, hearing his words but not sure what they mean. Is he threatening to discipline me? When my mouth opens to ask, one look at that eyebrow and I snap my lips shut. Nope, not going down that path.
“I’ll heat a plate of leftovers for you. Is there anything you’re allergic to?” he asks as he opens the refrigerator and grabs several containers, placing them on the counter.
“Um, no.”
“That didn’t sound very confident. Are you sure, or is that a guess?” He’s facing me again, holding a plate, waiting patiently for me to answer.
Merda. “I’m sure—no allergies that I know of.”
“Good. Anything you don’t like?”
Thankfully, he’s busy loading a plate without looking at me, so I can take a deep breath. “I don’t really like vegetables, especially orange ones. They’re yucky.” Cavolo. Yucky, Cheri?
“Yucky, huh? I’ll keep that in mind, princess. You’re lucky, no orange food tonight. Have a seat at the island. You can eat in here. What would you like to drink? We have sweet tea, water, juice, or wine.”
“Sweet tea? Oh em gee, after coffee that’s my favorite. I’ll have that, please.”
Doing as he asked, I pull out a chair and drag myself up to sit. Being short really sucks donkey balls in times like this. It’s obvious I’ve entered the giant zone.
Aaron slides the plate into the microwave and then pulls a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator. As he fills a glass, I swear he mumbles, “She’s perfect.”
The microwave chimes, and he puts a plate overloaded with meat kebabs and rice, along with a glass of tea, in front of me. It looks delicious, and the scent of the seasoned meat and rice makes my mouth water and my stomach growl again. “Thank you, Aaron. It looks amazing.”
“You’re very welcome, princess. Eat up. We’ll talk when you’re done.”
Taking a sip of the tea, I hum my approval.
It’s perfect, just the right amount of sweetness.
I could easily down the whole glass, but then I’d be too full to eat any of the food that looks like something from a fancy restaurant.
It’s not possible, though, is it? They’re out in the middle of nowhere. How would they get it here?
The first bite melts in my mouth. It’s seasoned perfectly, maybe Mediterranean—though I can’t figure out what type of meat it is. It’s not enough to stop me from a second bite with a little of the rice and a piece of pepper and tomato—also delicious.
“This is so good. Did you make it?” I ask after swallowing another mouthful. The way I’m shoveling this in, he’s going to think I haven’t eaten in days instead of hours. Candy counts, right?
“Asher and Emma cooked tonight. We take turns since we like to eat dinner together,” he answers after taking a drink of tea I didn’t realize he’d poured for himself.
“You eat together? Wait, who’s Emma?” I don’t remember Jaclyn mentioning any women, just the six brothers. Maybe she’s staff?
“Yes, every night. It’s something our parents insisted on. Since we moved back here, we’ve kept the tradition. It gives us all a chance to catch up on the day with each other.”
“That’s nice. When I lived at home, we only had Sunday dinner together.
My father and brothers were always too busy and worked weird hours.
But every Sunday, my nonna would make a huge Italian feast. After she passed, my mom hired a cook to make all the meals.
It’s not the same as my nonna’s cooking.
Even though I don’t like Italian food and only eat it when I’m visiting.
” Geez, stop rambling, Cheri, you sound like an idiot.
“I don’t know what you just thought about, baby. But I don’t like it. What’s wrong?”
I look up from my plate and meet his gaze. He’s so close, I can feel the heat radiating from his body and struggle not to lean into him.
“Just thinking about my family. They’re different from yours.” It’s not exactly a lie, but not entirely the truth, either. Hopefully, my face doesn’t give me away.
“I’m sure they are,” Adrian says as he strides into the kitchen.
Merda. I’d forgotten about him after he disappeared with my suitcase.
“I don’t know what you’re implying…” My family is a lot, but they’re mine, and I love them—most of the time.
Before I can say anything else, my phone vibrates in my jeans pocket.
Cavolo! It’s going to hit the fan now. I don’t need to look at the message to know who it is.
Aaron and Adrian exchange glances as I grab it and unlock the screen, biting my lip.
Cris: We’re at the gate, Rece. Tell someone to let us in, or we’ll smash our way through.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I bite my lip hard, the coppery tang of blood coating my tongue. This is bad. Quickly typing a response, I hit send, then look up at two very concerned expressions and wish the floor would open and suck me in.