Unexpected Rush (Play-By-Play #11) (8 page)

She moved around the island. “The flooring is actually a porcelain tile that looks like hardwood. I had it put in throughout the house.”

It was a dark terra cotta color, and really looked like wood flooring. “I like it. I definitely might want to consider it for my house.”

“I thought you might. Easy to clean, holds up much better to
our high humidity than wood floors. We’ll talk about it when it comes time to order flooring.”

She led him into a spacious second living area.

“This is the family room, where I spend most of my time because of the view. It has a balcony as well.” She went to the doors and opened them, walking him out onto what was a decent-sized deck.

“I sacrificed backyard for two decks and a view,” she said, as she stepped out next to him.

The view of the water was pretty awesome. “This is nice. But I guess no dog for you, huh?”

She laughed. “Sadly, no. My hours are so erratic I don’t think it would be fair to get a dog anyway.”

He turned to her, leaning an elbow against the wood rail. “I remember when I first met you. You told me that after you graduated college you were going to get your own place because you wanted a puppy and your mom was allergic, so you couldn’t have one at her house.”

She frowned. “I said that? I don’t remember.”

“You told me that the first day we met. You told me a lot of things, because you talked all the time and never shut up, but that’s the one thing that stuck with me the most.”

She laughed. “I did have a tendency to talk a lot, especially when I was nervous.”

He cocked a brow. “I made you nervous?”

“Exceedingly.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help stepping closer, breathing in that sweet, citrusy scent that always seemed to surround her. “You don’t seem nervous now.”

She stepped in as well, her fingertip tracing circles around his forearm. “I am most definitely not nervous around you now, Barrett. Back then I was young and inexperienced and not accustomed to being around extremely attractive men like you.”

This was dangerous territory and he knew better than to court that kind of danger. He should put his defenses up and maintain his distance.

But damn if he wanted to right now. Not when Harmony’s mouth was painted a sweet, kissable shade of plum, and her tongue swept out to lick across her bottom lip, tempting him to lean in and take a taste. Or maybe even a bite.

She leaned in, expecting it. So easy to grab hold of her and take what she offered, what they both wanted.

But then he thought about Drake, and how betrayed his best friend would feel if this happened between Harmony and him.

Nope. Not gonna happen. He took a step back. “So how about I cook us some dinner?”

He read the disappointment on Harmony’s face, but she immediately masked it with a smile. “Sure. I’m anxious to see if you can really cook.”

He moved in beside her as they headed downstairs. “Honey, I never say what I don’t mean.”

She lifted her gaze to his. “I’ll file that comment away for some future date.”

He had no idea what she meant by that, but when they got back into the kitchen, she started unpacking the grocery bags.

“I have no clue what you intend to do with all that stuff, but I’m happy to help.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. You laid down the challenge and told me men fail you in the kitchen. You just sit there and watch. I’ve got this.”

Harmony had no idea what Barrett was going to cook for her today. He’d asked her if she had an outdoor grill, which she did, so she knew he’d be grilling whatever he cooked,
which suited her just fine, since it was hot and she wasn’t keen on the idea of using the oven.

She watched as he used the meat mallet she’d provided for him to pound the hell out of the boneless chicken breasts until they were small rectangles. Then he melted butter in a bowl and added lemon juice and zest and set it aside.

“What are you going to do with that?” she asked.

He looked up at her. “You’ll see.”

He took another bowl and mixed parmesan cheese, fresh basil, garlic and more butter.

Whatever it was he was doing with that concoction, it made her hungry.

He laid the flattened chicken breasts out and filled them with the parmesan mixture, then folded the chicken over and secured each one with a toothpick.

“Oh I see,” she said. “Stuffed chicken breasts.”

“You got it.”

He got out wooden skewers and soaked them in water while he sliced a red, yellow and green bell pepper, a red onion, zucchini and a yellow squash. He mixed up a marinade of olive oil, salt, pepper and garlic, then tossed the vegetables in the marinade.

“We’ll let those sit for a few minutes while I start cooking the chicken.”

He stepped out onto the downstairs balcony where she had her grill.

Huh. Maybe he did know what he was doing after all. If so, he’d be the first man she’d ever known who had.

Typically, when she dated a guy, she did all the cooking while he sat back with a drink in his hand, metaphorically scratching his balls, waiting to be served.

She had no problem with traditional gender roles. She knew how to cook and she did it well. She actually enjoyed it. But she
was also a professional career woman and she worked as damn hard as men did. Just once she’d like to date someone who appreciated that, who understood how hard she worked and would surprise her by having dinner on the table when she came home.

Hell, she’d be happy dating a man who would offer to do the dishes.

Her friend Alyssa was right. Harmony knew there were awesome men out there, the kind who could appreciate her. She just hadn’t found one yet.

Though, focusing her attention back on Barrett, she found a glimmer of hope as she sat back, sipped her tea and watched him prepare the meal.

So unusual. But yet another reason to like this man.

He came back inside, and as he walked by she breathed in the grill scent on him.

Actually kind of an aphrodisiac.

“So where did you learn to cook?” she asked, as he pulled the vegetables from the marinade and laid them on a plate.

“My mom. And surprisingly, from my older brother Flynn. He’s taught me a few new cooking tricks over the past year.”

Her lips ticked up. “Not the typical types of things one hears uttered from the mouth of a big, well-muscled man.”

He laid his hands on her kitchen island. “Now that’s a sexist statement.”

“Probably. But still, you just don’t look like the cooking type.”

“There’s a cooking type? Do you ever watch cooking shows?”

“Frankly, no.”

“Trust me, there’s no cooking type. There are people from all walks of life who enjoy cooking, from kids to women—” He leveled a devastating smile on her. “Even men with muscles.”

She could tell she’d hit a raw nerve. “I’m sticking my foot in my mouth with this conversation, aren’t I?”

“Maybe a little. Which is the only reason I’m here today cooking you dinner.”

She didn’t buy it. “The only reason?”

He picked up the plate of skewered vegetables and made his way to her back door. “Trust me, Harmony. It’s the one and only reason.”

She smiled as she checked out his retreating form.

Only reason her ass. He could have said no, and he didn’t. He was here because he wanted to be here.

“Guy rule” be damned. She intended to take full advantage of their evening alone together.

Chicken was done, and just in time because the vegetables had a nice grilled edge to them. They looked tender and just about cooked to perfection.

Barrett might not be a master cook, but he’d learned enough from his mom and from Flynn to work his way around a kitchen, and definitely a grill.

He liked food. All his brothers did. His mother made sure they could take care of themselves in the cooking department, at least as far as the basics. And now that Flynn was opening a restaurant, Barrett had learned a thing or two about upping his game beyond just eggs, burgers and tossing a steak on the grill.

Like tonight’s dinner. When he’d been out in San Francisco visiting Flynn several months back, his brother had showed him how to fix the stuffed chicken breasts with grilled vegetables. Not hard, really. It had become one of his staple meals.

As he loaded the finished chicken and vegetables onto plates to
carry inside, he wondered why no guys had bothered to fix a meal for Harmony. Even bacon and eggs could be impressive if done the right way—and at the right time.

Men were such douchebags sometimes. And the old ways of thinking that women were supposed to do all the cooking were long gone. His mother, a former career attorney, had made sure to teach all her sons that rule. She might have given up her career to stay at home with her kids, but that didn’t mean she did all the work around the family ranch.

Everyone pitched in. Which didn’t mean the boys did the outside work while Mom and his little sister, Mia, did the cooking and cleaning inside the house, either. According to Mom, guys were more than capable of cooking a meal, doing the dishes, and scrubbing toilets. Just as women could operate the tractors outside.

Barrett had grown up doing it all. He’d like to think he was pretty well-rounded.

He carried the plates inside and laid them on the dining room table. Harmony had already set the table.

“Perfect timing,” she said, coming into the dining room from the kitchen. “I just opened a bottle of wine.”

“I’ll go wash my hands, then we can eat.”

He dashed into the bathroom to wash up, then met her back in the dining room.

“I have to admit, this all smells really good,” she said, as he pulled a chair out for her at the table.

He took a seat next to her, anxious for her to take a bite of the chicken.

Instead, she lifted her glass of wine and tipped it toward him. “Thank you for coming over to cook dinner for me.”

He tipped his glass to hers. “You can thank me after you’ve tasted it.”

Her lips curved. “Are you nervous?”

“No. Confident.”

“Good. I like my men confident.”

Her men. Barrett was not one of her men. Never would be. But he was confident—he just needed her to eat the damn food so he could get the hell away from her sweet scent and the temptation to run his hands over her soft skin.

She finally set her wineglass on the table and cut into the chicken. He waited while she took a bite and swallowed.

Her eyes closed and she made a sound—a moaning sound. He resisted groaning in response.

“This is excellent.”

He slanted a smile at her and started eating.

“Okay,” she said after she’d had several bites of the chicken and the grilled vegetables. “You can cook.”

He took a couple swallows of wine. “Did you think I was lying?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe I did. I’m frankly surprised. My last . . . well, let’s not go there.”

“Let’s do. Tell me about bathroom counter guy.”

“Levon? He was . . . high maintenance.”

“In what way?”

“His clothes had to be impeccably pressed. I’m pretty sure the only things that ever went into the washing machine were his underwear, and even that is suspect. Everything else went to the dry cleaner’s. His house was spotless. He had cleaning people come in three times a week.”

Barrett raised a brow. “A bit of a neat freak, huh?”

She cut into another piece of chicken, then waved her fork at Barrett. “That’s an understatement. He yelled at me once because I forgot to take my shoes off at the front door. He didn’t want his precious mahogany floors scratched. And I was wearing tennis shoes at the time.”

“What an asshole.”

She laughed. “Yeah, kind of. At least not the kind of man I wanted in my life long-term. I like a neat and orderly house, but if I want to toss my purse on the dining room table, I’d like to know the man in my life isn’t going to have a nuclear meltdown over it.”

“Definitely the wrong guy for you.”

“I agree.”

They finished dinner, carted their plates into the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. Barrett picked up the bottle of wine from the dining room table and they settled into the living room.