Page 15 of While You Were Spying
“You do realize you can buy fresh pasta in the store? Just like you can buy it dry. Then all you have to do is boil the water and cook it.”
“Yes, I am aware of that. That’s why I’ve only made it from scratch at the most five times.”
“So why the pasta maker?” I remove the saucepan I’m looking for and walk to the sink in the center island.
“My grandmother bought it for me.”
I fill the pan with water. “Ahh, so this would be the grandmother who owned a restaurant, right?”
“That’s right. Merlot or Chardonnay?”
“Chardonnay, please.”
“My grandmother was a firm believer that a real man knows how to create pasta from scratch,” he says, removing a wineglass from the cupboard and placing it on the counter. “She figured that because I was her grandson, I automatically knew how to make it. It was in the genes. Turns out, she was wrong.”
He picks up the Chardonnay bottle and studies it.
I set the saucepan on the stove, cover it with the lid, and turn on the gas.
“Where’s your corkscrew?” I remove the wine bottle from his hand.
His shoulders deflate slightly—enough for me to notice.
“My helping you open a bottle of wine doesn’t make you less of a man. Besides, it’s only for a week or two.” Or longer. I really have no idea how long it takes a gunshot wound to heal. All I know from what he and Liam have told me is that it’s a minor wound. Jayden’s guardian angel was smiling down on him, because it could have been a lot worse if the bullet had been even a fraction of an inch to the right.
For that, his guardian angel deserves a chocolatesoufflé.
Hmm.Maybe I should attempt something a little simpler. I haven’t quite mastered the fine art of making them.
I uncork the bottle, pour myself a glass of wine, and get to work on making dinner.
“Do you have any idea what kind of information was stolen from the guest at the resort?”Jayden asks as I cut up the plum tomatoes he had in the fridge.
“No. It could be anything. But it must be important enough for Bernard to want us to fly down to talk to him.”
“Why doesn’t the guest just report it to the police?”
I lift my shoulders in a brief shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe the guest doesn’t trust the police.”
“Or they don’t want the police to know what was stolen because it deals with something illegal.”
“Yes, there’s that too.”
“Do you have any idea why he wants to hire Liam’s firm and not someone else? It’s not like there’s a shortage of private investigators close to his location.”
“I guess he heard that we’re some of the best in the business.”
“‘We’re?’ You mean me and the guys are some of the best in the business. You’re the best when it comes to kickass office managers.”
I fold my arms in front of me. “You know Liam is looking at expanding the team and adding at least one or two women. And you also know I would be great at the job.”
“Forget it, Isabelle. What the guys and I do is too dangerous. You don’t have the training for it.”
“I almost have my black belt in karate.”
He snorts a laugh. “Real life isn’t a movie—where the bad guys are taken down with karate chops to the neck and roundhouse kicks to the chest.”
“I know that. I can also shoot a gun.”
