Page 16 of Two Weeks in Tahoe

“Well, let’s dig in,” he says with a genuine smile that isn’t his usual playful smirk.

“Thank you for making this. And for inviting me, Big J. It looks amazing.”

“Uncle Liam is the best cook in the world,” Jackson states matter-of-factly.

“That is true, I am. I won a contest.”

“No, you didn’t.” I reply with playful disbelief.

“And how do you know I didn’t?” He looks at me with a challenge in his eyes.

“I’ve never heard of a cooking contest with the title ‘Best Cook in the World.’ Is that a new one?”

He smirks and turns his attention to the spread before us, then reaches out for my plate. “May I?”

I pass it to him.

“Any dietary restrictions or preferences?’”

“Nope. I’ll try it all. Everything looks amazing.”

He loads my plate up with a few slices of the meat, some seasoned baby potatoes, and a medley of vegetables. Then he passes it back to me and loads Jackson’s plate. I wait patiently, though the smell is tantalizing and really tempting me.

Finally, we all dig in. Jackson sits across from me and Liam is between the two of us at the head of the table. This arrangement is good because it means I can focus straight ahead on cute little Jackson’s face instead of being distracted by Liam’s sultry gaze. I don’t know if he means to look at me the way he does, or if that’s simply his natural effect on women, but it certainly does something to me. Maybe that’s just how he looks at people in general, and I’m the pathetic one who can’t even keep myself composed when my former-teenage-crush-turned-super-hot-adult glances at me for too long.

We laugh our way through dinner with Jackson leading most of the conversation. He talks more about his hobbies and what they like to do in the winter. He gives me an endless list of things to do here and then he goes into all the summer activities as well. I’m still trying to figure out what the situation is with them.

After we’ve finished, Liam clears our plates, and I offer to help. He waves me off politely. Then he brings out some amazing-looking pie and ice cream. The ice cream, he informs me, is homemade.

“You did not,” I say, looking to Liam with surprise and awe. And maybe a little bit of humor.

“Oh yeah,” he says confidently, his towering stature looming over the table as he goes to sit. “I made it myself.”

“That’s, um…wow. I’ve never met anyone who makes their own ice cream. They have so many good flavors to choose from at the store, it seems like it would be more of a hassle than it’s worth…”

He laughs while cutting into the pie. Blueberry. It also looks homemade.

“And the pie?” I question. Though I already know the answer.

“Yep. All me.”

“Hey!” Jackson pipes in from across the table.

“Sorry bud. And Jackson, of course. Couldn’t do it without his help.”

I laugh, in awe of all the effort he’s put into this entire meal. And to think, he was originally making this entire homemade feast just for Jackson and himself.

“Is there a special occasion, or do you just like to give your nephew the best treatment when he comes to stay?”

I immediately realize I’ve said the wrong thing. Jackson and Liam turn their heads to each other, share a long look, then Liam gives him a warm smile and turns his head to me.

“You know, I’ve actually just gotten really into cooking the last few years. I’ve had some extra time on my hands, and I enjoy doing it. Now, I don’t want to hear you knock my ice cream again until you’ve tried it.”

With that, he holds out a spoonful of the white ice cream out to me. “Vanilla?” I ask.

“Just try it,” he smirks.

“Fine.” I take the spoon from him and pop the whole bite in my mouth, and I’m immediately in heaven. The texture is what gets me. I’ve never had ice cream so soft and fluffy. And the flavor, which is, in fact, vanilla, is mouthwatering. I let out a soft, involuntary moan, which I may not have even realized, had Liam not lifted an eyebrow at me, thoroughly entertained.

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