Page 47 of Enemies with my Bestie’s Brother
After a few more moments of catching up on town gossip, Whitney finally gets us two coffees to go. As we step back into the rental car I turn to Whitney, but before I can open my mouth, she starts explaining.
“I’m sorry, I know that you probably wanted to tell her, but she’s a good friend of my mom’s.”
I chuckle and shake my head.
“I was just going to ask where we’re off to next. It’s your prerogative who we tell about us in your hometown, although I’d love to meet your mom while we’re here. I want to know the woman who raised such an amazing person.”
She stares at me for a few moments before turning away and turning on the trunk.
“We’re going to the grocery store to pick up some things for dinner. Do you know what you want? I probably have some basics in my pantry, but nothing special, and no perishables, obviously. I gave those all away when I went to San Francisco.”
“Why don’t you let me make you dinner? It will be my treat, and I can make my ultra-special secret recipe.” I wiggle my eyebrows at her and she rolls her eyes.
“Okay, but if you burn down my kitchen, you’re paying for a brand new one.”
She expertly reverses out of the parking spot as I stare out the window. Why does she think that I don’t know how to cook?
Afteraddingthefinalparsley garnishes to the linguine pasta with white wine sauce, I bring the plates to the table and set one in front of Whitney. She inhales deeply above the dish before sitting back.
“It smells amazing, Grayson. I may have underestimated you a bit,” she says as she eagerly grabs her forks and starts swirling noodles around it.
I’ve barely sat down before the fork is in her mouth and her eyes are popping open at the flavor. “Oh my god, this is the best thing that I’ve ever eaten.”
“And you kept saying that I couldn’t cook,” I taunt as I take my first mouthful.
The white wine excellently amplifies the lemon and red pepper flakes, allowing the flavors to all play on each other. It’s one of my favorite dishes to make, and it easily impresses despite being deceptively simple.
“Well, you were right and I was wrong, and boy am I glad I was.”
We finish our meals in content silence. It’s the comfortable kind of silence you can only have with someone that understands you better than anyone else. I watch Whitney for a few moments as she eats. I admire the way her eyes close when she takes a bite, and the slight purr of pleasure she gives when she tastes the food. There’s something so sensual about a woman when she eats, something that can’t be observed at any moment besides pure bliss.
“That was incredible. Where did you learn to make that?” she asks.
I shrug before I respond.
“I took a fine dining cooking course every week when I was younger. I learned a lot of great dishes that were ‘restaurant quality,’ as the head chef would say. Plus, I learned a lot about flavor profiles and combining different flavors.”
“A cooking course would be so fun. We should do it together,” Whitney says, smiling as she gets up and collects our plates.
“Oh, let me get the dishes!” I stand up after her, and she shakes her head before putting the dishes in the dishwasher.
“No way. If you cook, I clean, and vice versa. Them’s the rules at my house,” she says in a goofy voice.
I roll my eyes, but don’t argue with her. After all, it is her house. “If you want to help, though, you can get a fire started in the fire pit out back. I’ll join you when I’m done.”
I nod and find my way out the sliding glass doors. Despite it being dark out, there are string lights hanging around the porch, ensuring that I’m not walking around in total darkness. I look around before finding the pile of small logs and shredded newspaper in a circle surrounded by various seats. There’s a long lighter on one of the chairs. After a few tries pressing the trigger button, a fire erupts from the tip. I touch it to the pile, and a fire roars from it almost immediately.
I sit down on the wicker loveseat that faces the fire pit and glass doors.
I watch the fire for a moment, admiring the ability to have something like this out here. It would never be allowed in the city. Whitney interrupts my thoughts, joining me on the loveseat with a blanket. She wraps it around us before settling in next to me, snuggling close. I lean against her, and we stay like this for a long time before finally going to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Whitney
Iplaceanotherwhitebinder in one of the boxes. We’re in my office right now, packing up almost everything that we can find. Grayson’s in charge of all the books about interior design and magazines about predicted trends. Truthfully, now that we’ve gotten started on everything, I realize that there really isn’t that much to pack. But, that doesn’t make me regret my decision to come to Keene for our “vacation.” Even though I know we would have had more fun on the beach somewhere, there’s something comforting to me about being home.
“Whitney?” Grayson asks, interrupting my thoughts.
