Rusty nailed(37)

“No no, I mean I have turnovers that I need to put in the oven.”

“Wait, those are like tiny pies, right?”

“Yes, Simon, they’re like tiny pies.”

“Apple?”

“Cherry.”

“Have mercy.”

“You know what it does to me when you go Uncle Jesse on me.”

His eyes widened, and something else hardened. “I do indeed.”

Kissed me fierce, he did, and while I did my best to remind him of my turnovers, he did his best to make me forget. And I did, until the doorbell rang.

“Dammit,” he muttered, releasing me.

“Saved by the bell,” I sang out, rising off his lap.

“You know what it does to me when you go Kelly Kapowski on me.”

“I do indeed. And if you’re a good boy tonight, I’ll give you my own special Bayside cheer later on.” I winked and danced away from his grabby hands. “Now go do something with that,” I instructed, pointing at his enthusiasm.

He strutted away, and I headed to the front door. I could see Ryan through the glass, but no Mimi.

“Hey, where’s your girl?” I asked, but then heard a wheeeeee coming from up above.

“She’s ridden it twice already,” he replied, rolling his eyes but smiling at his girlfriend as she came down the hill in the hillevator, peeking over the side.

“That will never get old. I love this thing,” she announced when she got to the bottom, opening the door and climbing out. She had a basket full of treats and an armful of board games, which Ryan hurried to assist with. “See, this thing is actually useful.”

“Well, it’s not just a carnival ride, no.” I laughed, grabbing a bag as well. “Good lord, how many games did you bring?”

“I thought it would be best to plan for any and all hiccups tonight. And speaking of hiccups, I brought plenty of booze,” she stated, nodding to the box from the liquor store.

“Sure, because what goes better with tension than alcohol?” I snorted, catching Ryan’s eye.

“I tried to tell her,” he said under his breath.

“I heard that,” she sang out as she trotted into the house.

“I meant you to,” he sang back. “ ’Sup?” He nodded to Simon, who had parked himself behind a wing chair.

I chuckled to myself at his technique for hiding his enthusiasm. I winked at him, feeling a thrill rumble through me when he looked at me with those heavy lidded eyes. Damn, that man got to me.

I led Mimi into the kitchen, letting her set up the bar while I finally got the turnovers into the oven.

We chatted while we put together snacks for the evening. Since I didn’t have the time I used to, it nearly killed me to get the turnovers together in time. But taking a page from the Barefoot Contessa, I managed to put together a respectable spread. I arranged several cheeses from a local shop, including a runny Brie and a stinky Stilton, some French bread, and little bowls of spicy almonds and salty olives. Slices of salami, capicola, pepperoni, and mortadella covered another wooden board, along with bowls of marinated artichoke hearts and roasted red peppers. A few containers of garlicky hummus and pillowy pita completed the nosh. I finished up just as Mimi was putting the final touches on her drink stations.

“Whiskey sours, martinis, and look! Wallbangers!” she cried, setting out a bottle of Galliano just as Simon and Ryan came in to join us.

“Perfect. Caroline was just saying before you two got here that she was dying for some more of me,” he teased, making me blush as the timer went off on my turnovers.

“Mix yourself up there, Simon,” I said over my shoulder, pulling the flaky triangles from the oven. The look he gave me told me I would indeed be getting turned over later on that night. You wouldn’t catch me complaining.

Just as Simon handed me a drink, we heard the doorbell.

“Showtime,” Mimi mumbled, heading off to the door. It was Sophia, with the tallest man I’d ever seen. But not just tall, he was crazy good looking. He was like NBA meets surfer.

“Why, hello there!” I said, looking up and up. “I’m Caroline.”

“Hey,” he said down to me in a voice that was incredibly deep. “Zach.”

He shuffled off to shake hands with the guys as I took Sophia’s coat.

“When I say that’s a tall drink of water, I’m not exaggerating,” I whispered to her, checking him out as he towered over Ryan and Simon, neither of whom were short.

“Thanks. He plays basketball in France; he’s home for the holidays. I met him at the gym.”

“Damn, I need to switch to your gym. The cute boy quotient is considerably higher than mine,” I replied, hanging up her coat.