Page 64 of The Arrogant One
“Nope. I’ve got this.” She took out the pot from inside the oven and set it on the stovetop. She then grabbed a fork from the drawer and glanced at me. “I’m really learning my way around your kitchen.” After she winked, she took off the lid of the Dutch oven and dug through whatever was inside. “We’re good. It’s ready. Let’s eat.”
She grabbed two plates from the cabinet and a serving spoon from the drawer, leaving it all by the stove while she went to the fridge to get the Tupperware. She lined everything up and began to plate.
“Watermelon and feta salad.” I eyed each scoop. “And potato salad.”
“What’s in the potato salad is what makes it special.”
As soon as she set the main entrée on the plate, I said, “Short ribs.” I nodded in approval. “Nice.”
She looked at me from over her shoulder. “Sounds like an interesting pairing, I know. But you have to trust the process.”
“I trust you. I’m not worried about anything.” I took the plates from her hands and carried them into the dining room that had already been set while she brought in our cocktails. I immediately tried the short ribs. I couldn’t wait; they smelled amazing. And I moaned, “Sadie,” when the meat hit my tongue.
She smiled. “Now try it with some potato salad. There are dried cranberries in there, and when you combine it with the mayo and the rich, savory meat, it’s divine.”
She was right.
I whistled and added, “Shit, you weren’t joking.”
“The watermelon is just a refreshing addition to balance the heavy meal. The basil gives it an earthy punch, and the feta—well, I just love cheese.”
“That makes two of us.” The salad was as good as everything else. “This is outstanding. All of it. Thank you.”
“No, thank you.”
I watched her cut her meat into small pieces, wiping her lips after every bite before she licked them.
“You love food, and you’re an excellent cook—I’m telling you, Sadie, I think I’ve found my future wife.”
She laughed again. “It runs in my blood. I can’t help myself.”
I nodded. “I know that feeling.”
She set down her fork and took a drink. “This is probably going to come across as very random, but I wanted to ask yousomething about Eden. You’ve mentioned her a few times to me, and when you were describing the dating patterns of your family, you said one doesn’t date by choice.” She paused. “Were you referring to her or one of your brothers?”
I hesitated. “Her.”
She nibbled at the end of a watermelon chunk. “It’s just not her thing?”
This wasn’t information I was willing to share.
With anyone.
Even if I cared about them, like I did with Sadie.
“Single is her thing.” And that was all I would say on the matter.
She nodded. “I get it.”
But she didn’t.
“How old is she?” she asked.
“Twenty-seven.”
“So interesting.”
I took down the rest of my old-fashioned and replied, “You’ll meet her soon, and you’ll love her. She’ll come across as a little closed off at first. She’s not the type to give you that warm and fuzzy greeting—that’s the way she describes it, not me.” I chuckled. “But once you get through that outer layer”—the emotion surrounding Eden was in my chest, it always was whenever I talked about her, but I refused to show it—“she’s one of the best people you’ll ever have in your life.”
