Page 51 of These Pucking Boys

“Hey, guys. I cooked dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”

Jake and I look at Ryan and wait for him to blow a fuse. The kitchen is off-limits. We aren’t allowed to do any serious cooking in it, because he claims we’d ruin all his pans and the food would be inedible. We only have access to the microwave.

Ryan’s jaw clenches tight, and a vein on his forehead throbs.“What did you cook?” he asks through gritted teeth.

June doesn’t seem to notice Ryan’s reaction to her taking over his sanctuary. Still sporting a smile, she replies, “Lasagna. It’s a family recipe. It should be done in about five minutes.”

Ryan walks over, glances at the sink, and then turns to the stove. We all know he’s inspecting everything, but June is oblivious.

I step closer to Jake and whisper, “If Ryan says anything to June about his bloody pans, I’ll turn him into haggis.”

“We didn’t have lasagna noodles,” Ryan points out.

“I know. I made them from scratch.”

“Really?” He pauses, then his attention drops to her T-shirt. “What are you wearing?”

His expression is a mix now of aggravation and amusement. I can’t see what’s on her T-shirt that’s making him react that way, because Ryan is blocking the view. Jake and I move closer.

Looking down, June stretches the fabric of her top. “Rob Lowe and Patrick Swayze.” When she looks up, she’s smirking. “What? They were babes.”

I grin. “Did you wear that in our honor, lass?”

Her cheeks turn bright pink. There’s a fluttering in my stomach that I’ve felt only once before. All because of June’s blushing. I’ve never met anyone who did that so often, but I’m beginning to realize that might be my weakness when it comes to her.

“No. It was the first T-shirt I grabbed from the bag.”

“Maybe it’s a sign that you should stick around,” I say.

“I thought I was, or has that changed?” She turns to Jake. “Did you speak to Mrs. Carpenter?”

“Not yet. But don’t worry. She’ll say yes.”

She frowns. “I can’t stay at her place tonight, then.”

“You can stay here,” Jake replies.

From my peripheral, I catch Ryan checking the oven. “I think your lasagna is burning.”

June whips her face toward him. “What? No, for real?”

He opens the oven, and the smell of delicious melted cheese makes my stomach grumble.

Ryan says, “It’s done,” while June says, “Another minute.”

They stare at each other briefly before June closes the oven door.

“Ohhh, someone is challenging your skills, Ryan.” Jake laughs.

June tilts her head, still looking at Ryan. “You cook?”

“You could say that.”

“He thinks he’s a chef,” I tell her.

“I don’t think. Iam.”

“Wow, cool. My dish is nothing fancy. Just good old home cooking.”

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