Page 42 of The Roadie
“That’s because we’re close to the beach.” Brett moved to a vine filled with cucumbers and squash that hung off a trellis near the back fence. He picked several of each and placed them in the basket. Next, they went to the herb garden and cut bunches of parsley and oregano, which grew like little shrubs, and basil, which smelled heavenly.
“Everything looks so healthy,” she remarked.
“It takes a lot of attention. That’s why I got Grant into gardening. You know, a diversion from hanging out and getting into trouble.” He stopped to look at the basket in her arms. “We need one more thing.”
He led her to another area where long stalks grew from the ground about two feet high. She was about to ask what they were until the aroma hit her. “Oh my God. Is that garlic?”
“Yeah. There’s nothing like fresh garlic.” He knelt down and worked a gardening shovel until one of the stalks pulled free. He shook off the dirt and held it up so she could see the large head of garlic, with roots still attached. The scent was strong. And overpowering.
They went inside and washed everything they picked and placed it all on paper towels to dry. She admired the spread on the counter, which was a cornucopia of freshness, and snapped several photos. “No one is going to believe you grew this in your garden. Do you always eat like this? So healthy?”
“No. We’re single guys. We eat our share of tacos. Grant likes to grill so we eat a lot of steaks and burgers.” He waved his hand over the vegetables on the counter. “This is a nice addition to our diet, and the fresh herbs make everything taste better.”
She realized that he was expecting her to help prepare a meal, and she needed to tell him about her lack of culinary skills. “I have another confession. I don’t know how to cook.”
Placing his hands on his hips, he stared at her with surprise. “You mean there’s something you don’t know how to do?”
“There’s a lot I don’t know how to do.”
“I don’t believe that.” He opened the kitchen drawer and retrieved a large knife. “Can you chop the garlic?”
She snatched the knife from him. “I thought you were going to kill me for a second.”
He laughed. “Just chop the garlic.”
While she minced the garlic, he pulled three onions out of the refrigerator and diced them. “You mean you didn’t grow the onions yourself?” she chided him.
“I ran out of room.”
After chopping the onions and garlic, he showed her how to blanche the tomatoes and peel them, which had her staring at him in awe. She had no idea something this elaborate was involved in making a pot of sauce. He let her sauté the onion and garlic in olive oil while he finished preparing the tomatoes, then added them to the pot along with spices and the freshly chopped herbs. It smelled divine and looked incredible. She found her phone again and snapped a photo of the simmering sauce, then a selfie as she stirred it.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked, with a chuckle, when she started tapping on her phone screen.
“I’m sending these to my sister. And to Angel. He’s going to be so jealous of your garden. And both of them are going to be shocked that I’m cooking.”
While the sauce simmered, they made a salad with the vegetables from the garden. She expected him to whip up an elaborate homemade dressing, but he pulled a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch from the refrigerator. “Really?” she asked, with a hand on her hip.
“If I could make anything that tasted half as good as this, I would market it.”
“I agree.” She smiled, grabbed the dressing from his hand and smothered her salad with it.
“Whoa.” He took the bottle from her hand. “Why don’t you just put it in a glass and drink it?”
“I would if I could.”
After they boiled spaghetti, they set everything on the table, including a bottle of wine and candles. She stopped to inhale the aromas from the table and take it all in. “I can’t believe we made this beautiful dinner.” Her phone was on the chair, and she picked it up and snapped more photos so she could remember this meal that they made together.
With the lights dim and the candles lit, they sat side by side, not across from one another. He slid his arm across the back of her chair and lifted his glass. “To more nights like this together. Just the two of us. Not just on weekends, either. I want days. Weeks. Months at a time.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Dare I say years together?”
She let herself dream, which she’d been doing more and more lately. Her head was in the clouds half the time, pretending to live a fairy tale and walking around with a silly smile on her face. A sigh filled her with contentment, and she clinked her wine glass against his. “Yes. That’s what I want too. Let’s live the dream, Brett. Let’s make the fairy tale come true.”
The blaring sunshine woke Kira early the next morning. An arm across her eyes and the sheet over her head did little to dim its brightness, but the empty spot next to her made her flip the covers off and sit upright. “Brett?”
He wasn’t in the room, so she slipped out of bed and decided to look for him. “Brett?” she called into the foyer.
“In here.”
He was at the stove, preparing omelets, while Grant was sitting at the breakfast bar sipping coffee. Brett set down the spatula and wrapped his arms around her, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”
