Page 30 of Roman and Jules
He tilted his head at her and caught her sarcastic little smirk. “Oh, I’m going to make spaghetti and meatballs that will blow your socks off.” He lunged from the couch at the challenge, taking her with him.
“I thought you were supposed to be teaching me?” She was game for it though, and hopped alongside him into the kitchen. Mercutio tagged along with a wagging tail.
“Sure, sure.” With some difficulty, he pressed his hands to his side. “You mind getting out the hamburger,darling? And the ground pork and the ground veal?”
“How do I know the difference?”
She wouldn’t, and he reached around her in the freezer to pull them out. “Okay, then you get the Parmesan cheese.” Jules did with a slight smile. “And the pasta,” he said. And he began to work on the meat mixture, pulling out the rest of the ingredients like a man caught in a passion as he mashed them together in a bowl. He started chopping tomatoes and sliding them into a saucepan.
Jules leaned over the counter like she normally did when he cooked. “I’ve got an idea,” she said. “I’ll take over the dogfood. How about that?”
Roman nodded hurriedly, still caught up with making the perfect spaghetti recipe. He listened to Jules in the laundry room and the sound of dry dog food hitting against a metal bowl. Mercutio skidded into the room after her, and after the loud chomping sound of his happy dog, Jules returned to the kitchen. It was then that he belatedly remembered that he was supposed to be teachingherto cook.
“Um, you take over the pasta,” he said.
She stared at the package and set it down with disinterest. “Okay, but did you know that those pictures are uneven on your wall?”
He glanced up distractedly from the food as she dragged a barstool to one of his paintings of the desert. She clambered onto the wooden base in her bare feet so she could reach the frame and take it off the wall. “You need a more secure anchor on this.” Climbing back down, she set the painting on its side and disappeared into the laundry room. He was only half listening, until he saw she had the drill. She’d put on sunglasses and had fastened a tool belt over her slim hips. The leather belt crossed over her white shorts and made her look like the zombie fighter that had just taken him out in War Blaster. She was adorable… and looked ready to take out his wall.
“Whoa,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Drilling a hole.” She lifted the drill like a weapon.
He held his hands up. “Only point that thing at something you mean to shoot.”
“I’ve got this. Go back to your meatballs.”
He felt his mouth curve up and felt half insane when she gunned the drill like the engine of his Harley and he did nothing. The tool gave a shrill scream as it plowed into his wall, pushing up dust from the plaster. It was what she was doing to his heart. She set down the drill and rolled an anchor between her fingers and tapped it into place with her hammer.
Jules had it covered.
Keeping an eye on her, he put in the pasta while she reached for the painting again. She slid the frame over the holder and turned it this way and that until she had it absolutely straight. The barstool wobbled under her feet, and he hopped forward to steady it and ended up knocking her off balance instead. She shrieked, and he caught her from behind before she went flying, snatching her in his arms like he’d been dying to do since he’d seen her in that tool belt.
Her eyes flew to his, her cupid bow lips opened in that way she did, and there was nothing for it—hehadto kiss her. He settled for the top of her head before he set her down on her feet. It left her a little breathless.
He probably should apologize. It wasn’t like they were in public trying to trick the cameras, but the words refused to leave his mouth. The only thing he wanted to do was kiss her again. Properly. And if he started? What would make him stop? Things were getting complicated.
“Well, well. I think I’ve found my hero.” She smiled, though she still seemed a little shaky. “You literally knocked me off my feet.”
The girl refused to let him woo her peacefully, and he found himself grinning in response.
“You like it,” she said. “Admit it.” She scooted the barstool back to the counter and sat down, tucking her toes under the footrest. He watched her. Did she mean him kissing her? “The painting,” she said with a nod in its direction. “It’s straight now.”
The meatballs were burning. Roman swung back to the stove and flipped them over to brown them on the other side. He caught the tail end of what she was saying: “I’m sure glad that you taught me how to cook.”
He glanced ruefully up at her. “Well, we need a reason for you to keep me around.”
“Oh. There are lots and lots of reasons to keep you around.”
His spatula scraped across the top of the pan and his chin jerked up to stare at her. Now she had his full attention. Her eyes widened at him and she shrugged. “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.”
His mouth split into a grin just as her phone buzzed in his pocket. He’d forgotten it was there, and he grappled with it, still holding onto the frying pan while he read the name on the screen. It was her band manager. “It’s Angelica!” He tossed it to her.
She caught it with a groan. “Angelica is meeting me at the Curtain Theater in a half an hour. We’re working out a gig.”
“You’re going out tonight?” He was dismayed at the whine that entered his voice, but there was no taking it back.
“I have to. I just didn’t think she’d call me so early.” Her eyes drew to the clock on the wall and her shoulders sagged. “Oh, it’snotearly; I just lost track of time. I really wanted to try your spaghetti.” She made a pouty face and shoved off the barstool to stalk into the back room where she swiped up her purse. When she came back, she was still wearing his tool belt.
