The Lineup(61)

Before leaving my room, I take one last look at myself in the mirror. I chose a simple pair of leggings and a shirt that hangs off my right shoulder, showing off the strap of my bralette. I left my hair in a high ponytail to keep it away from the food. And even though it seemed like Jason liked my glasses, I leave my contacts in because I don’t want to be fumbling around with glasses if we so happen to progress things further. That’s positive thinking though, who knows what will happen tonight?

On a deep breath, I exit my room and walk into the main living space. That’s where I spot Jason hunched over the counter, looking at his phone. When he hears me approach, he turns and his face lights up when he takes me in.

God, that’s a look that will never get old.

“Hey, you look comfy.”

“I am. Thanks.”

He claps his hands together. “Are you ready for this?”

“As much as I can be.” He takes me by the shoulders and directs me into the kitchen. Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a plain, dark green shirt, he looks amazing, especially with the no shoes and socks.

Barefoot and in the kitchen; doesn’t get better than that. What on earth am I thinking? If he took off his shirt, it would get better. Not sure how I can make that happen . . .

“All right. I chose something easy for us to make, something that wouldn’t be too hard for you to replicate.”

I look at the ingredients, trying to decipher what it is. “Uhh, what are we making?”

“Gnocchi. I thought about making my homemade spaghetti sauce but figured that would be too much for you in one go, but we will be making our own garlic bread.”

“You want to make pasta? Are you insane?”

He chuckles. “It’s not as hard as you think. I already have the potatoes cooked and softened. We need to start shaving them down and then we can make the dough.”

He brings a plate of potatoes over to the main island along with a cheese grater. “Do you expect me to do this?”

“It’s not hard. Have you ever grated cheese?”

“No.”

He sighs but laughs at the same time. “Okay, so we’re at a real basic level then.”

“If I can’t microwave it, I can’t do it.”

“Good to know.” Stepping up behind me, he wraps his arms around me and brings his hands to mine. His chest is flush against my back while his head hangs forward over my shoulder. God, he smells so good, and he feels so good. This is exactly what I wanted. This kind of close proximity. I just didn’t think it was going to happen this fast.

Talking softly, he says, “Okay, hold the grater with this hand, and then move the potato up and down over those ridges, like this.” He demonstrates and I nod, the whole time wishing we would stay in this position the whole night or at least a version of it. “Yeah, just like that. Good job, Dottie. You continue to shave down the potatoes while I measure out the rest of the ingredients.”

He pulls away and I instantly feel like messing up so he can return to his previous position, arms wrapped around me, his scent filling the air around us. But I also don’t want to look completely incompetent, so I continue to shred.

“Who taught you how to cook this meal?”

“My grandpa. He was the chef in the house. Owned his own restaurant for quite some time. He would always tell me the best way to a woman’s heart was knowing your way around the kitchen. We would spend hours cooking together. When I wasn’t training.”

“That’s sweet. So is this one of his famous recipes?”

“Yeah, he was known for his pasta, which was funny since he’s not Italian. He’s Irish. Ireland gets a bad reputation for not having the best food. One of my grandpa’s favorite things to say was he was an Irishman who knew how to cook better pasta than his Italian friends.”

“I’m sure that chapped their asses.”

He pauses, mid scoop with his flour. “Chapped their asses?” A low rumble of a laugh rolls through his chest, the sound positively delicious. “I’ve never heard that phrase before.”

“Seriously? My dad says it all the time. He always asked me if I intended on chapping his ass whenever I did something wrong.”

“Did you ever offer him up ChapStick? I could totally see you doing that, the smart-ass in you.”

“Not ChapStick,” I answer. “But petroleum jelly. I gave it to him the Christmas of my senior year in high school with a card that said, for all the times I chapped your ass.”

“Oh, that’s fucking perfect.” Jason laughs some more. “Please tell me he loved it.”

“I think it was the hardest I ever saw him laugh. Then he cried, of course, because I was going off to college. I assured him I’d still be able to chap his ass long distance . . . and I did.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did.”

I move on to the next potato, picking up my pace. “What about you, are you close with your parents?”

“Yup, my whole family actually. Natalie is my sister, she helps me run my foundation, The Lineup. She’s actually the CEO, and I’m just the pretty face.” He flashes me his best smile. Pretty face indeed. “And of course, Joseph, my twin brother who has cerebral palsy, is my best friend. We’re really tight-knit, and I think it all stems from wanting to give Joseph the best life possible. Natalie and I became super protective of him and my parents encouraged it.”