Truly, Madly, Whiskey(53)

He placed one leg on either side of her. Even his stance was possessive, and she was no longer surprised by how much she liked it.

“I did my homework while he cooked dinner, and he’d walk me through the steps of whatever he was making. I guess his skills wore off on me. By the time I was a teenager, I was cooking dinners with him, and when he got sick, I cooked for him. Even in his last days, when he couldn’t stomach a thing, he’d ask me to cook. I think he knew we both needed the distraction.”

Her heart sliced open. “You were with him, here, at the end?”

He pulled out another skillet, poured in some olive oil and tossed in the ingredients he’d marinated. “My mother cared for him here. She’d pushed for him to go into hospice care, but he was a feisty bastard. Tough till the end.” He cut up onions and put them in the skillet, blinking against damp eyes. Whether it was due to the onions or memories, she couldn’t be sure.

She reached for him. “I’m sorry you lost someone so important to you. It sounds like you had a special relationship.”

He hooked an arm around her neck, hugging her in the crook of it. “He was a heck of a guy. When I was in high school, he helped me apply for scholarships and fill out college applications.”

He washed his hands, going silent while he stirred in the rest of the ingredients. “I wanted to go into industrial design and engineering. I won a scholarship, but then my old man got sick. Bones was in med school. Bullet was on tour with the military.”

“So you never went,” she said, realizing his loyalty ran even deeper than she’d thought.

He was quiet for a few minutes before answering. “My family needed me. And when we realized my uncle wasn’t going to beat his cancer, I knew where I belonged.”

He opened another cabinet and began mixing rum, lime juice, brown sugar, and water in a big pot. Then he stirred a bowl of shrimp into the other skillet, and she realized what he was making.

“You’re making paella and hot grog.” How could it have taken her so long to figure it out? And after everything she’d confessed that night on the hill, how had he remembered every little detail?

“For my girl. I hit the store while you were working this morning.”

A lump lodged in her throat. “Bear,” was all she could manage.

“That’s my name, babe.” He grabbed two plates from the cabinet and spread the rice onto them and topped them with the meat and seafood mixtures.

“Thank you.” She opened the drawers in search of silverware. “It smells incredible.”

“Hopefully it will taste even better.” He reached around her and opened the silverware drawer, revealing utensils that looked like tools.

She lifted her brows.

“What? Your forks don’t have box-wrench ends?” He picked up the utensils, showing each to her. “You don’t have spoons with an open-end wrench or a knife with a plier for a handle?”

“No. I have a Bear with a toolbox.”

He laughed. “That you do, babe. A very large toolbox.”

“You should be careful building up the size of your junk.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What if I’m disappointed?”

“You’ve felt it,” he said, as arrogant as ever as he reached into a cabinet and withdrew two wineglasses. “I know you like to be careful about drinking, so if you want to skip the grog, that’s cool with me.”

He’d thought of everything. “No. I’d like some. It sounds perfect.”

He pulled a shiny silver tray from a lower cabinet near the dishwasher and set it on the counter. There were two circles inside it, one read BLUE HAWK and the other read STAINLESS-STEEL MAGNETIC MECHANIC’S TRAY. He set the plates inside it, and when he put the utensils in, they clinked.

“You’re seriously using a mechanic’s tray?”

“A good mechanic always has the right tools for the job.” He swatted her butt and then ladled the grog into a big pitcher. “Do you mind carrying this?”

She carried the pitcher and he set the wineglasses on the tray. They went out of the kitchen to a hallway she hadn’t noticed when they’d arrived. After standing for so long, she felt her muscles begin to ache.

“My legs and butt are sore from the ride.”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’ll massage all your aches and pains away, and I promise to behave.”

“Darn,” slipped out before she could stop it. “I mean…Um. Darn.”

He laughed. “You lead, and I’m happy to follow.”

“I like the sound of that.” She stopped to look at a series of pictures on the wall. She studied a photograph of three adorable, long-haired shirtless young boys and a girl with tangled red hair. They were sitting on a concrete step. The little girl was leaning forward but looking back at the boys, like she didn’t want to miss a thing. Crystal spotted Bear easily, all elbows and knees, holding a cat on his lap and watching the other boys.

“Is this you and your brothers and Dixie?” she asked.

“Yeah. Taken at my parents’ house.”

She moved to the next picture, where a honey-eyed boy with thick black hair, who could only be Bear, peered beneath the hood of a car. Beside him a thin, bearded man stood with one arm around Bear’s shoulders, pointing to something on the engine.