Page 51 of Drifting Hearts
I stood and pushed my sleeves up to my elbows. “I’m shit in the kitchen, so you’ll have to tell me what to do. Might have to explain it like I’m five.”
Patricia handed me an apron and smiled knowingly. “All you have to do is try.”
Chapter 26
Kieran
It happened over spaghettiand meatballs. Truthfully, it happened long before I walked into Mom’s kitchen and found the two of them talking and laughing. Clay wore an apron that was splattered with spaghetti sauce. Mom’s hair was tucked up into a bun, but stray strands had fallen loose.
“Kieran, come collect your boyfriend. He’s impossible,” Mom said to me.
“I— we—” Clay stiffened and sputtered.
I crossed the room and grabbed Clay by his apron strings and tugged him close to me. Brushing a kiss against his cheek, I smiled at the way he looked absolutely gobsmacked. “Hi, boyfriend.”
“You’re here just in time,” Mom said. “When Clayton told me he wasn’t good in the kitchen, I didn’t believe him.”
“I warned you.” Clay reached around and tugged the apron loose.
“Do me a favor, love, and stick to your art. People who like food will thank you.”
“What did you do?” I asked him. Now that Mom knew about us, I didn’t hesitate to stop pretending that I didn’t want Clay in my embrace at all times. I held him from behind, my arms wrapping around his waist.
“I did everything she told me to do, I promise.”
“It’s true.” Mom sighed. “But I didn’t think I had to explain that we were making meatballs, not softballs made of hamburger.”
I tried to bite back my laugh, but it escaped. And because I wasn’t twelve, I resisted making the obvious joke about my boyfriend liking big balls.
“So they were a little big.”
“You made baseballs; they should’ve been golf balls at best. Anyway, Michael is expecting Clay to be here for dinner, but after that, you’re free to spirit him away if you want to.”
“Michael?” Who the fuck was Michael? The question must have been in my tone of voice because Clay twisted in my arms until he faced me. His smile was impish and amused when he rose and dropped a kiss against my lips.
“Michael is the son of a new guest of your mother’s.”
Foolish. Jealous. Ridiculous. I was all three, but my pride had been saved for the most part because I’d learned long ago when to hold my tongue.
“I think he’s hoping for another art lesson, but I believe he’s had enough excitement for one day. He’ll probably crash after dinner.”
“Art lesson?” I looked at Clay. Hope simmered in my chest and he cracked the smallest of smiles. It was soft and shy, but it made him look lighter and happier.
“Let’s talk about this outside,” Clay said, leading me toward the back door.
I followed him outside. The afternoon was beautiful and warm and I wrapped my arms around Clay again, taking a moment to steal a kiss, which might have been why he’d wanted to come outside all along.
“So… art lessons?” I said.
“He had this pencil that didn’t even have an eraser and a ratty old backpack that was falling apart at the seams. He had a sketchbook, but… I had extra. I went and dug out some of my things to give him.”
Clay didn’t have much of anything, which I knew from listening to Shane rant about it after he and Archer packed up his apartment. Because Shane was a sucker for Archer, he’d been willing to help Clay. And even though Archer’s attitude toward Clay had softened in recent weeks, Shane held a grudge like a bone in a bear trap.
Clay relayed his interaction with Michael to me and did so without thinking it was a big deal. Or maybe he didn’t know it was. Or maybe he treated Michael as he’d been treated years ago when he found the community center.
“You’re pretty amazing,” I told him.
He glanced away, trying to shield his embarrassment. He had nothing, but still he found something to give to make someone else’s life better. He’d never believe me if I told him a thousand times how wonderful that made him, but I thought maybe I could kiss the knowledge into him.
