Page 24 of Where We Call Home

I grabbed the pitcher, careful as I removed it from the shelf. The pale liquid inside sloshed as I carried it to the table, my curiosity piqued.

“What the hell is this?” I asked, eyeing the contents skeptically.

“Peppermint tea,” he answered, his voice casual as he plated the last bit of food. “It’s supposed to help with heartburn. I read online that it’s safe during the third trimester.”

I nearly dropped the pitcher.

Rhodes had researched pregnancy-safe foods, then bought ingredients—ingredients that clearly weren’t staples in his nearly barren fridge.

Swoon.

Rhodes was thoughtful, gentle, and undeniably caring. How could anyone choose city life over someone like this?

That made me wonder, were there skeletons in Rhodes’ closet?

“Wow, that’s amazing,” I whispered, pouring tea into my glass until it was nearly full. I repeated the process with his glass, leaving the pitcher on the table between us.

My legs began to ache, so I sat, easing the pressure off my ankles.

“Can I get you anything else?” Rhodes asked, his tone sincere.

I glanced at the table in front of me: pasta coated in rich red sauce, warm bread, and a pitcher of peppermint tea.

I smiled. “No, this looksfucking fantastic,” I said, laughing in partial disbelief. He’d truly outdone himself.

Rhodes sat across from me, his eyes meeting mine, and I couldn’t help but grin. “I’m so excited to eat this right now. My mouth is literally watering.”

He chuckled, gesturing toward my plate with the silverware in his hand. “You try it first. Be gentle with me—it’s been a while since I made this.”

Twisting my fork into the noodles, I gathered as much as I could before taking a bite. The spice hit me immediately, but oh my God, it wasgood.An explosion of flavor burst on my tongue, a mix of heat and richness that was downright addictive.

“Oh yeah,” I moaned, my eyes rolling back. “That’s it.”

Rhodes cleared his throat. “I’m taking that as a compliment.”

“I’d make love to this pasta,” I confessed, covering my mouth as I laughed. “I’m going to need you to make this for me every day.”

The sauce was perfect—creamy, smooth, and balanced. If I hadn’t seen him stirring the pot when I arrived, I might’ve thought he bought it pre-made and passed it off as his own.

“Your wish is my command,” Rhodes replied, his eyes crinkling as he tried to hide a smile.

“Where did you learn to make this?” I asked, eager to learn more about him, to peel back the layers one by one.

“My mom,” he said. “It’s a recipe that’s been in my family for generations.”

“That’s so cool. So, you’re close with your mom?”

“Oh yeah,” he said with a nod, taking another bite.

“Me too,” I said. “How about your dad?”

Rhodes shook his head, washing down his food with a sip of tea. “I never met him. He left my mom before I was even born.”

For fuck’s sake, it was only my second question, and I’d already made things weird. Why couldn’t I have just asked his favorite color or something? I managed to say the wrong thing around him… again.

“I’m sorry. That must’ve been hard on your mom,” I said carefully.

“Yeah, she worked hard to give me the best life possible. I owe her everything.”

---