“Hello?” It was said softly. Kim’s eyes widened and her blush deepened at the sound of Iris’s voice. His sister, who’d entered with stealth into her own house. He stopped talking, and in a few moments, Iris appeared, in her stocking feet. Geoff behind her. The pair of them were creeping along like teenagers after curfew.
Both glanced at him and then stared at Kim. “How do you do that?” Geoff asked.
Kim smiled at him. “It’s a gift. Babies like me. But I’ve also had lots of practice. You’ll get there. You’re their dad.”
“I know, but they’re so little and helpless. It’s scary.”
She smiled at both of them. “How was your evening?”
“It was wonderful,” Iris said. “I can’t tell you how nice it was to get out of this house, and talk to Geoff like an adult. I think I was losing my mind.”
As she spoke, she lifted a pink-clad baby off of Kim’s shoulder. She made a sound like an irritated kitten, then curled into Iris’s neck. “But I missed them, too. James, what are you doing here? Did Mom send you to make sure I’m coping?”
“I brought a present from the yoga women. They dropped it off at the station.” He repeated his mother’s little white lie.
Which fooled Iris about as much as he’d guessed it would. “Sorry she put you up to checking on me.”
“I wanted to see my niece and nephew anyway.”
“And it was nice you could keep Kim company.” From the way she glanced at him he wondered how much she’d heard of their baseball conversation.
“I’ll help you put them to bed,” Kim said, rising and resettling the other baby. The pair of them crept upstairs and in a few minutes, Kim returned alone.
“Iris is feeding them.”
Geoff shook his head. “For such tiny little things, all they do is eat and poop.”
“They’ll grow bigger,” Kim assured him. “Before you know it.”
He nodded. “Thank you for tonight. Iris wouldn’t trust anyone else.”
“I was happy to look after them. Really, anytime.”
He looked seriously grateful. “Thanks.”
“I’ll head out now. Tell Iris I’ll call her tomorrow.”
Before Geoff could invite him to stay, he said, “I only came to drop off that present. Tell Iris I’ll call her tomorrow too.”
“Sure thing.”
He followed Kim down the hall and they both slipped on their shoes. He watched her blonde hair fall over her face, silky and rich. He wanted to run his hands through it. Watch it tangle as she tossed her head while he made love to her.
He said nothing until they were outside. The air was warming up. The evenings lasting longer.
“Well,” she said, turning to him.
“It’s not even ten. Do you want to go get some food or something?"
She stared at him. "I've only been in town for a couple of months, but where exactly do you think you can find food at this time of night?"
James shook his head. "Sometimes I forget I'm not still in Seattle." He looked at her sheepishly. "I can cook you something. "
Her eyes widened. "You cook?"
"Cook might be too strong a term. Especially to a woman of your talent in the kitchen. Let me be more specific. I can barbecue a mean steak. Also grill a portobello mushroom for vegetarian sisters. And,” he held up his finger as though inspiration had struck, "My grilled cheese sandwiches are world-famous."
"You know I start work at four in the morning."
He grimaced. "Right, I forgot. So, you probably need to get straight home."
She should, of course. If she had any self-preservation she would get into her car and point it for home. Jump in bed, pull the covers over her head and attempt not to think about him or how the baseball conversation had made her feel. But, she had already learned that around James she was not sensible.
She said, "Actually, I would love a sandwich. Babysitters usually get to raid the fridge, but I couldn’t move with the babies.”
“Understandable. So, it’s really my civic duty to feed you, since you helped out my sister.”
She shook her head at his foolishness. “I’ll follow you in my car.”
“When we’ve got more privacy, I’ll finish explaining how baseball works.”
"Now you’re taking this to a whole new level." She teased him right back.
He came closer. Lowered his voice. “I’m thinking about sliding into home base.”
“Phew. You’re smooth.”
“Come on, get in your car. You can follow me to my place."
"I don’t have a toothbrush even."
"Quit stalling. I stocked up at Costco. I have eight toothbrushes in assorted colors."
He walked her to her car, which she found adorable. He waited for her to unlock it and then opened the door for her and held it as she got in.
As she followed the lights of his truck back to his place, she knew she was heading into dangerous territory. And she couldn’t do anything to stop herself.
"Now, I don't want you interfering in my kitchen," James ordered as she followed him with every intention of interfering.
She stopped. "I’m so sorry. I’m so used to cooking."
"Well forget it. In my kitchen I am boss.” He pointed to the other side of the granite breakfast bar. "You can sit there and talk to me."
She leaned forward, her elbows on the counter, and watched him. He looked so hot, especially when he tied a kitchen towel around his waist, chef style, which she was pretty certain he’d done for her benefit. He pulled up his sleeves, washed his hands with as much fanfare as if he were a surgeon preparing to operate, and then pulled out a loaf of bread. He fetched cheese and butter from the fridge and finally a jar of dill pickles.
He placed a serviceable looking skillet on the stovetop. This wasn't a pan he’d grabbed at a discount store. It was solid, heavy bottomed, and looked as though it had seen plenty of use. She’d be willing to bet there was more than grilled cheese sandwiches in this man's repertoire.
While the skillet heated he buttered both sides of the bread, sliced the cheese and placed generous slabs between the slices of bread. He put the first sandwich in the pan where it sizzled gently, suggesting he’d got the temperature exactly right.
As he prepared the second sandwich he said, "There are plenty of people who add things to a grilled cheese: onions and avocado and ham, but for me, grilled cheese sandwich is best when it’s simplest."
“I could not agree more. Sometimes the simple things are the best."
He pressed a spatula onto the cooking sandwich. "When we were kids, this was always the meal we had when we came in after hockey practice or a wet rugby game or swim team, when we were cold and hungry. Mom used to make it exactly this way.”
The smell of the cooking sandwich made her mouth water watching. He reached for a knife, also high quality and well used, and sliced a dill pickle.
“Do you want something to drink with this?"
"What did you used to drink with it when you were kids?"
"Milk."
“A glass of milk would be nice."
Before she knew it, she had in front of her a perfectly cooked grilled cheese sandwich and three green pickle slices fanned out beside it.
She crunched into her sandwich and found it excellent. Crispy golden brown on the outside, and the cheese melted gooey on the inside.
"Oh this is so good.”
He flipped his own sandwich onto a plate. “Did you have these as a kid?"
She shook her head. “Once in a while, if we went into town, we might get a hot dog. Mostly we ate what we grew ourselves and stocked up on the kind of supplies that last months."
"It doesn't sound like one of those back to the land dreamscapes."
“My dad did not want us mixing with other people and he was pretty paranoid now I think about it. We grew vegetables in the summer and ate a lot of potatoes and canned goods in the winter. Dried milk that you can reconstitute and never tasted like milk, you know? We raised chickens and made all our own bread and so on. I learned to cook mostly as a survival skill."
He nodded. “My folks raised chickens too, still do. And they grow vegetables, but my mom still went grocery shopping every week. With eleven kids, she had to. And a couple of us would get roped into going with her to help." He glanced at her with understanding. “You must have felt so lonely.”
She nodded. Surprised he understood that it wasn’t the hoeing potatoes, collecting eggs and shucking peas that had been hard. It was not having anyone her own age to play with.
She felt immediately uncomfortable telling him so much, so she jumped up to clean the kitchen but he waved her away. "My kitchen is my castle. Why don’t you get ready for bed? Toothbrushes are in the bathroom cabinet."
She nodded. The last time they’d made love had been so spontaneous. There hadn’t been the awkwardness of preparing for bed and picking a color toothbrush. What was she getting into? It was one thing to throw caution to the winds and enjoy crazy hot sex with a virtual stranger, but when they moved on to sleepovers and toothbrushes, well, they were moving into territory she wasn't completely comfortable with.
Still, she couldn’t deny the pull of attraction that was keeping her here. She found her way to the bathroom. As he’d promised there was a jumbo pack of toothbrushes in a rainbow of colors. She chose a purple one. As she brushed her teeth, she noticed the shine of excitement in her eyes. His bathroom was as neat and orderly as though he were in the military. She supposed being a cop wasn't that far off. When she walked into his bedroom she halted in surprise. "Wow." She said aloud.
"What’s the matter?"
“Nothing." She shook her head and simply regarded the bedroom. "Did you go on one of those home makeover shows?" His bedroom was masculine in the way that a female designer pictures masculine. The leather chair and ottoman in navy leather, with a tall stainless steel reading lamp beside it. A huge bed with a gray and black upholstered headboard. Luxury bedding in black, white and gray. A dark gray carpet so plush she longed to walk through it with bare feet. The art on the walls was of outdoor scenes, mostly photographs. Floor length drapes, in a fabric that complemented the bedspread hung in front of expensive-looking California shutters.
He strode forward and flipped on the fancy looking glass light on the fancy-looking bedside table. "No," he said, removing the coordinating cushions from the top of the bed. Efficiently he turned he slid back the duvet cover. "Worse than that. My sisters."
She grinned at the disgusted tone in his voice. "Not Iris?" Iris's home was nothing like this.
"Of course not. Iris is not a controlling fashion-obsessed autocrat who barges into other people's houses and dictates improvements."
She nodded slowly as understanding dawned. "Rose."
"Yep. With some help, I might add, from my twin Josh who said that with the gay gene he also got all the sense of style for both of us and so he owed it to me."
"Why didn’t you tell them to mind their own business?"
"Rose tends to act first and ask permission later.” He walked around the bed toward where she stood. "Plus, once you’ve slept in fancy Egyptian cotton sheets, you never want to go back. And that is a great reading chair. So, I made my peace with it."
"I think they did a great job."
He advanced slowly. "You are wearing way too many clothes. And I still have to finish my baseball lesson."
She giggled as he grabbed for her and in no time at all she was wearing no clothes at all. He undressed himself equally rapidly and then pulled her to him. When their bodies touched, she was lost.