When in Rome(75)

As she slides by me and out the door, I catch a hint of her sweet scent. A montage hits me of my hand tangled in her hair. Her mouth eagerly exploring mine. Her legs tied around my waist. The taste of her lips, and her neck, and…

“Well, that was weird to witness.”

I look up and James is standing with a beer in his hand, on the edge of the kitchen obviously having watched that whole scene play out. I grunt and slam the door shut behind me with the heel of my boot.

He wants me to engage, but I won’t do it. Instead, I go into the kitchen and see what they’ve got cooking. Surprise, surprise, it’s breakfast food. Scrambled eggs are steaming on the stove, there’s biscuits in the oven, cooked bacon on a plate, and gravy simmering in a skillet. I recognize it as one of my grandma’s old ones. She gave it to James one night several years ago when he came over for dinner and confessed to her that he didn’t own a cast-iron skillet.

I block out the intruding images of James teaching Amelia how to make country gravy with my grandma’s iron skillet. I swear if he put his arms around her to teach her how to whisk the flour into the milk and bacon grease I will punch him in the throat. I’ve never been the violent type, but it’s never too late to change.

“You gotta see these,” James says, completely oblivious to my new hatred for him. He walks over to a plate covered in foil and even before he lifts it, I know what’s under there. I can see the height and recognize the smell because it’s the same smell that’s been lingering around my house the past few days.

Pancakes.

Really shitty pancakes.

I can feel James watching me closely for some kind of response, so I keep my face neutral. I nod slowly with the corners of my mouth turned down. “Pancakes.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What else were you hoping for?”

James sets his beer down and folds his arms. “I want you to explain to me, what sort of hold this particular breakfast item has over her? That woman obsessively worked on these pancakes for an hour and wouldn’t let me give her a single instruction for them. Barely looked at me or responded to questions while she was making them—just kept tasting them and getting upset when they didn’t taste anything like his.” Still he searches my face for a hint of acknowledgment, but I don’t give in because I’m practicing. See, this is just the minor leagues compared to when my nosy sisters get here. And if I don’t want anyone finding out about what happened in the lake yesterday, I have to make sure I’m as stoic as ever.

I shrug and turn to open his fridge in search of a beer. I find it, pop the top, and then resist the urge to go over and inspect each and every one of her pancakes. See if she’s getting any closer to figuring it out. They don’t look as crispy as last time so I think she’s at least learned she doesn’t have to butter the pan each time she puts in a new dollop of batter.

“She likes pancakes. That’s all there is to it.” I don’t tell James about Amelia’s list, because, frankly, I don’t want him to know. He’s spent all day with her and might’ve figured out things about Amelia that I’ll never get to. That thought makes me sick with jealousy, and now I want to withhold anything I can from him on principle.

“She like the farm?” I ask this question in the same tone someone might ask, Did you ever get that suspicious mole removed?

But this guy has been my best friend since I was born. Any poker face I think I’m holding is clearly transparent to him. He chuckles. “Just ask me, you little shit.”

“Ask you what?”

He raises his chin slightly. “Ask if I like her.”

“No.” I take another drink.

“Ask if she flirted with me today.”

I clench my teeth and look down, swallowing the lump in my throat. “No.”

He groans so loud and dramatically, tipping his head back to stare into heaven. “You’re so obnoxious with your stoicism. You don’t deserve it, but you know what? I’m gonna tell you anyway because I hope someday when I’m lovesick, another poor idiot will put me out of my misery.”

I don’t know what he’s about to say, but my heart rate ratchets up. I think I accidentally tip forward just the slightest bit, too. Thankfully, he doesn’t notice because he’s stirring the gravy or else he would have commented.

“I don’t like her, because number one, I’m a great friend and could see from day one that you have a thing for her. Number two, I’d have to be a fool to compete with you after the way she mentioned your name at least a thousand times today.”

I have to press my tongue into the side of my cheek to keep from smiling. “She talked about me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yes. Everything was a commentary about what she thinks you would have said at any given moment. Wondering if you’ve ever helped me on the farm. How long have I known you? Wouldn’t Noah find this hilarious? Anything and everything Noah Walker related. So now what I want to know is how you feel about her, because I’m starting to think she’s got real feelings for you.”

I take a swig of my beer and prepare my lie. “I think she’s been in town for a week and can’t have feelings for me that fast.”

“Bullshit.”

“I think she’s trouble.”