“Yep. Do you not like them?”
I hold one up to my nose and wince. “I guess today’s the day we find out.”
Easton grabs a handful of crushed green olives and adds them to the pan. I give him a look, and he pops a brow. “What? Not an olive fan?”
“Uhh…with eggs? Didn’t you say this was a Mexican omelet?” I ask without trying to hurt his feelings. “Maybe I should make you breakfast.”
“You don't trust me?” he playfully asks. “Just give it a chance.”
When he covers a thick layer of garlic powder on top, I know without a doubt, I won't be able to eat this.
Bless him for trying, though.
“Should I make us coffee?” I ask.
“If you can figure out that fancy-ass machine, go for it. I'm sure there are beans somewhere.”
“It's an espresso machine. How hard can it be?”
Ten minutes later, I'm eating my own words.
“There's no reason this should be so difficult,” I grumble when the machine screams out but still doesn't give me any coffee.
“Hate to say I told you so...” He smirks, uncovering the pan and checking on the food. It's been done for a couple of minutes now, but he’s kept it warm on the stovetop.
I shoot him a glare. “Maybe I'll google it. Should have an instructions manual on there at least.”
“Nah, we'll bother Piper and make her tell us. She'll be excited to meet you anyway.”
“Oh...um, okay.” Meeting any of Easton's family members makes me nervous.
He holds out his phone as we wait for her to pick up. Seconds later, her face appears on the screen.
“Hello, my favorite brother-in-law!”
“What's up, my baby sis? We need your help.”
“What did you break?” she immediately asks, and I chuckle at her assumption.
“This is Tatum, by the way.”
“Oh my gosh, it's so nice to put a face to a name! Easton talks about you so much. I feel like I already know you.”
Heat covers my cheeks as Easton squirms next to me. “She's lying. Ignore her,” he mumbles.
“I am not! You tell me how I know her date of birth, eye color, and address?”
My eyes widen in horror.
“Ignore her,” he says sternly. “She helped me with payroll one time. Quit making me sound like a stalker.”
“That explains two of the three,” I say with my brows raised.
“Okay, I better come clean before I get him in trouble. I know your eye color now from just seeing you. I was only teasing,” she states, but I notice the wink she gives him.
Now I don't know what to think.
“Anyway...” Easton drawls. “How do you work this contraption? We want coffee and it's spitting out water.”
“Oh, you will love it! It makes literally the best brew ever. Did you find the beans?”
After Easton tells her we did and explains everything we’ve tried, she goes over it step by step until the smell of fresh coffee wafts in the air. Then she explains how to use the frother but suggests we use it with heavy whipping cream instead. Since we don't have that, I just poured regular creamer in mine since that's all I really need.
“Oh and if you open the drawer right underneath, you'll see a ton of different spices. Add some cinnamon to the top. You can thank me later,” she gloats.
I instantly smile because I love putting that on top of mine.
“You and your bougie-ass coffee, I swear.” Easton shakes his head. “But thank you, sis. Is Tristan around?”
“He's in the shower. I can bring you in there if you want?”
Apparently having no boundaries runs in the family.
“Nah, I don't need either of us to see him naked. Just tell him to text or call me later.”
“Okay, let me know if you guys need anything! It was great to meet you, Tatum. Don't let Easton drive you crazy!” she sing-songs before he presses the end button.
“She is very bubbly in the morning,” I say.
“Yeah, morning sex will do that to ya.” He snorts, then notices my furrowed brows. “She's way too open with their personal lives. She can't help telling me more than I need to know.”
That makes two of us who didn't need to know.
Once we have our cups of coffee, Easton serves the omelets.
“And some hot sauce to top it off...” he says like a master chef presenting his award-winning dish. The presentation looks good, but the weird variety of shit he added makes me wonder how it could possibly taste good.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You're very welcome. Wanna sit at the table?” He grabs his plate, and I follow him.
“So you said before that your sister is fifteen years younger than you. Does that make you closer or more distant being that far apart in age?”
“We're as close as we can be living in separate states and all.” And all meaning that I had to sneak around to talk to her in private. “Oakley and I FaceTime every Friday, so this morning I told her everything that happened and why we're here. She worries a lot.”