The Right Kind of Love(41)

“Interesting.”

“So tell me how you became such a phenomenal cook?” I gave her my full attention.

“My mom and I were really close, like best friends close. From when I was little, I would climb up on a chair anytime she was fixing something. Sometimes, I would help her. As I got older, we’d cook together. She taught me everything I know. If you think my cooking is good, you should try my baking. Our pies and cakes have been known to win a few contests.”

“Well, hook a guy up already. I love pie and cake.” I finished the last bit of my chicken and then plowed through my noodles. The sauce on it was outstanding. It had a hint of lemon butter flavor to it.

“How about I make you something on Sunday? That’s my next day off.” She took the last bite of her chicken and then pushed her plate away.

“You got a deal.” I picked up my plate and headed back into the kitchen. “I’m just going to get another plate if you don’t mind.”

“I told you I made plenty.” She got up from her chair with her plate and utensils. “I’m gonna start getting the kitchen cleaned up. I made kind of a mess.”

“I’ll go sit at the breakfast bar so we can talk.” I gathered everything up and planted my ass in a stool.

“Okay, sounds good.”

“Tell me about your mom and step-dad. How did they get together?”

“Well, they were actually high school sweethearts. They drifted apart after they graduated and both meeting different people. About a year after my dad died, my mother bumped into him at a restaurant and the rest is history. Dale and I aren’t very close. I was a Daddy’s girl, but I loved my parents equally. We got along. He treated my mom well and that’s all that counts.”

“That’s great. I know I’ve told you this before, but I’m sorry you had to lose your mom.” She looked at me through her lashes and a lone tear fell from her eyes. She instantly wiped it away, and I could tell that she had a slight tremor. This had to be a very hard topic for her. I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like if I lost my parents.

“Thanks.”

“Tell me about your friends back home?” This was good. I could eat while she talked.

“Well, my best friend, who I love more than anything in this world, is Bee. We were roomies before I moved here. We’ve known each other since the third grade. She has been my bestie through thick and thin. I think you would really like her.”

“Her name is Bee as in bumble bee?” I took a sip of wine while trying to hide my laughter.

“No, her name is Abbee. We call her Bee for short. The actual spelling of her name is a bit different with two e’s on the end instead of y.” She was scrubbing away at a pan in the sink.

“So do you have any other friends?” She looked at me like I’d just spoken to her in Chinese.

“Yes, I have friends. I had several I was close to back at the salon I used to work at. Now I have my friends at the new salon. I’ve gotten really close with Shaina.”

She turned away and went back to work on her cleaning. I was almost done with my second helping of dinner, and she looked like she was nearing the end of the kitchen clean up.

I got up out of my bar stool and walked over to the sink and rinsed my plate and loaded it into the dishwasher. I grabbed the cleaner out from under the sink and went to work helping her by cleaning the stove and countertops.

Once we were done, I headed into the family room and turned on the TV while she went into her room to get her nail products.

“So what do you want to watch?”

I flipped on the TV and scrolled through the guide scanning the channels for movies. One of my all-time favorite movies was getting ready to start. “How does Dazed and Confused sound?”

“Perfect.” She put her feet on the coffee table and started going to work.

I began watching the movie as she painted. “Damn it, this angle just isn’t working out when painting my toes.”

Taking the bottle out of her hands, I inspected it. It was a slate gray and actually looked pretty badass on the nails she had polished. “Here. Kick your feet up in my lap and allow the master to paint.”

She gave me a startled look. “Um, you want to paint my nails?”

“Sure. It’s no problem. After all, I’m a tattoo artist. If I can work with ink, I can certainly paint a nail.” She hesitantly placed her feet in my lap. They were cute feet. “Damn, woman, you have some tiny ass feet.”

“What? They’re a size six, which is pretty average.” She gave me a shy smile.

“I guess.” I started painting her toes, and let me tell you, I did a much better job than she’d currently done.