“I’m always hungry.” I take her up on her offer and grab a handful. But before I crunch into the kernels, I ask, “Any idea where I could get a great risotto?”
“My kitchen,” she whispers.
I flash back to that night with her, kissing her while she was cooking. Damn. I wish we’d had that second date. Glancing across at Patrick, I confirm he’s busy then lean closer to Brooke, stealing a moment. “In our parallel universe, I’m back in your kitchen.”
“Wow. Youarehungry,” she teases.
“I sure am.”
She adopts a thoughtful look. “Am I making…eggplant parmesan?”
“You’re doingsomethingwith an eggplant,” I say. “As far as I’m concerned, you hold eggplant power over me. Zucchini too.”
“Ooh, I love zucchini in a pasta primavera.”
I breathe an over-the-top sigh of relief. “I’m so glad you didn’t say zucchini muffins.”
“Muffins should be abolished.”
“Right? What’s the point of muffins? They don’t know if they want to be bread or dessert.” I’d planned on dirty-talking her with a scenario ofkissing her in her kitchen, and now we’re harshing on muffins.
But I’m a happy camper.
“If I want a cupcake,” she says, “I’ll have a cupcake and I’ll frost it, thank you very much.”
“Just pick a side, muffins,” I say.
Brooke peeks over at Patrick and Cara, who look like they might be wearing sandwich boards for insta-love, then leans a little closer to me, her hair swishing over my shoulder. “You’re back in my kitchen too. I’m up on the counter,” she whispers.
Yes. Let’s do this. “I’m lifting your skirt.”
“I’ve got my hands on your shoulders.”
“You’re pushing me down,” I say.
A small gasp falls from her mouth. “So you can work on your deal.”
“I will work very hard on my deal.”
Brooke closes her eyes and inhales sharply. When she opens them, those brown irises glimmer with heat.
“We should have cupcakes later,” I suggest.
She nibbles on her lower lip, then smiles wickedly as the opening credits begin.
13
JUST A TROUBLEMAKER
Drew
When the movie ends, Patrick and Cara walk ahead, gabbing the whole way out. Once we’re on Ocean Avenue, I’m not surprised at all when my friend suggests, “Want to grab a beer? Shave ice? Smoothie?”
The question’s directed at the group but I know who it’s really for. He’s a goner already. Maybe Cara is too, because she chimes in with an enthused, “Definitely.”
But Brooke yawns rather than answers.
“It’s past your bedtime,” Cara teases. “It’s already nine.”