“Thanks.” After a bit of rooting around, he took a corkscrew from the drawer. “Hopefully it’ll taste as good as it smells.”
“I can open the wine,” she offered, and he handed her the tool. “So what kind of work do you do?” It was one of those things she’d been meaning to ask but the question kept slipping her mind.
He slid the drawer shut. “Private security.”
“Oh, like bodyguard work?”
That would go a long way to explaining why he came home from work at the end of each day dressed like some sort of action hero. An action hero who currently looked remarkably domestic—and smoking hot—in his tiny galley kitchen.
“Among other things.” He opened the cabinet by the stove, took two wine glasses from the top shelf, and set them on the counter. “How about you?”
“I’m a teacher; eighth-grade science.”
He let out a low whistle. “I bet your job’s rougher than mine.”
“Teaching middle schoolers can be a challenge. There are days when it feels like a circus.” She tugged, and the cork came out of the bottle with a soft pop. “They’re at that age where everything in their lives is in a state of flux. Puberty is wreaking havoc on their bodies, their relationships with adults are shifting, and boundaries are constantly tested. But it’s certainly never dull.”
“I can imagine.”
Joe slipped on mitts, opened the oven, and the mouth-watering aroma of lasagna flooded the apartment. Not that she was complaining. If Johnson & Johnson ever replicated the scent, they’d make a killing in the air freshener market.
“I hope you’re hungry; I made a ton.”
No kidding. The pan looked large enough to feed every person who lived in the building. “Starving, but I don’t think I’ll be able to put a dent in that.”
He grinned. “I always make a lot so I have plenty of leftovers. If you like it, you’re welcome to come back for more.”
While she filled their glasses, he set the small square table and loaded two plates with piping-hot lasagna. He put the plates on the table, and then added a basket of bread and a bowl of freshly grated parmesan.
He made a sweeping gesture toward the table. “Dinner is served.”
“Thank you,” she said as he pushed her chair in for her. She waited for him to take his seat before she picked up her fork and sliced into the lasagna. A plume of aromatic steam rose from the forkful of food, and she blew on it to avoid scalding her mouth.
Fiona took a small bite, and the explosion of flavors nearly had her moaning out loud. “Oh, my God. This is incredible.”
He smiled, satisfaction plain on his face. “Thanks. It’s my mom’s secret recipe.”
“What makes it a secret?”
His smile broadened as he picked up his wine glass. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret, now would it?”
She liked this playful side to him. It made her want to be playful as well. “You wouldn’t even share it with your fake girlfriend?”
“Are you kidding? My mother almost didn’t share it with me. I had to swear on the family Bible that I wouldn’t pass it along to anybody, but you’re more than welcome to ask her when she’s in town.”
Over dinner they talked, sharing bits and pieces of their lives, and with each passing moment, she found herself increasingly charmed by him. How could she possibly not? Smart, attractive, charismatic, and funny, in addition to being a good cook was one heck of a combination.
Joe ate a bite of lasagna and washed it down with a swig of wine before he continued the tale from his childhood. “So me and Gabe head for home, feeling on top of the world because we thought we got away clean. But then we turn the corner, and our house comes into view, and there are my parents standing on the front porch, hands on their hips, looking like they want to skin us alive.”
Captivated by the story, Fiona leaned forward to pick up her wine glass. “Who ratted you out?”
“Ricky Schmidt, that little weasel. We should have known better than to let him tag along. His parents busted him coming home late, and he dragged the rest of us under the bus with him.”
“What did your parents do?”
“Well, they started by smacking the shit out of both of us. Then they made us go back to Jenny’s house, apologize to her parents, and clean up all the toilet paper. It ended with both of us grounded for a month and having to work at Pop’s shop every day after school.” A devilish smirk curved his lips. “Much to their dismay, it failed to straighten us out.”
She laughed, unable to hold it back any longer.
