Accidentally Engaged(34)
Her curiosity had piqued about what he was hiding, but unless she was willing to be open about her own past, she couldn’t expect to know everything about his.
“I like that. No past, no future. Our friendship is in the present, only,” she said, sinking back into the couch.
“Perfect,” he murmured, digging his thumbs into the ball of her foot. “I just…I’m really glad to have you as a friend.”
“Because I refuse to marry you, or because of my feet and bread?”
His hands kneaded as he winked at her.
She sighed in pleasure. “Don’t answer that,” she said. “I don’t care. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Reena woke up way too early Friday morning. She had planned to sleep in after her late-night foot rub, but her body hadn’t quite accustomed itself to unemployment yet. She got out of bed, figuring she’d get a head start on the drive north to Amira’s. But first, she needed to feed the starters.
Brian had been doing much better this week. She had reduced his feedings to one a day, and he had doubled in size like a trouper each time. But, of course, like Murphy’s Law, today he acted up again. He’d barely risen since yesterday’s feeding, in contrast to Sue, who’d tripled in size. Crap. She’d intended to feed the starters, then park them in the fridge for the weekend, where their growth would stay in stasis until Monday. But now that Brian was misbehaving again, she worried that missing a few days of feedings would mean the end of him forever.
But who could she trust to feed him for two days on such short notice?
She grabbed her last loaf of rye bread—this one a classic dark rye—and deliberately refrained from putting on shoes, socks, or slippers before knocking loudly on Nadim’s door.
He answered, wearing dress pants and a dress shirt, no tie, and a startled expression on his face.
“Reena. What’s wrong…”
“Sorry to bug you so early, but…you said we were friends, right?”
He looked down at the loaf of bread in her hand. He may have sneaked a glance lower at her feet, but she couldn’t be sure. “Of course.”
“Well, here.” She handed him the bread. “I’m not going to get through this, since I’m going away for the weekend. And…I have a favor to ask you. You’ll think it’s strange, but—”
He took the bread, and one eyebrow shot up. “Is it kinky?”
“No!” She shook her head in disbelief. “Jesus, do you have any social boundaries?”
He laughed. “No, not with my friends. What do you need?”
“I need someone to feed Brian while I’m away.”
“You have a pet? And his name is Brian?”
“No, Brian’s not a pet…He’s my…he’s a sourdough. Well, one of them.”
“He’s a what?”
She sighed. “He’s a sourdough starter.”
“A sourdough starter.”
“Yes, it’s a mixture of flour and water that contains natural yeast. It needs to be fed so the yeast can leaven my bread. C’mon, you’ve had my bread before, how did you think I made it?”
“It just never occurred to me that people raised their own starters. People who aren’t pioneer homesteaders.”
Reena frowned. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Look, can you help me or not? It’s not that big a job.”
“No, of course. If you need me to feed your sourdough, I will. I’m just finding this to be the oddest favor a friend has ever asked of me.”
She rolled her eyes as she motioned him into her apartment. She took Brian down from the windowsill and placed him on the counter. “This is Brian. He’s pretty young. A rye starter…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m seeing a whole different side of you. So nurturing. How many kids should we have?” There was way too much mischief in his voice for this hour.
“I’m not marrying you. And I told you there’s more to me than bread and feet.”
He laughed. “Clearly…” He deliberately leered at her bare toes and waggled his eyebrows. “Those are your strongest assets, though.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Fine, fine. I’ll behave,” he said. “Teach me how to take care of Brian.”
She showed him the steps of feeding the starter: discarding half, then mixing in equal amounts by weight of flour and water.
“Why’d you throw away half?” he asked.
“Because you need it to double each time you feed it. If you don’t toss half, you’ll end up with too much starter. It’d grow exponentially, forever.”
“What a waste! What you should do is—”
“Don’t should on me, buddy. I don’t normally throw it away. I make bread with it, that’s the point. And you’re this close to never getting any of that bread again.”
He smiled that charming smile. “I’m just kidding. This will be fun. Nice to have someone to keep me company while you’ll be gone. Does Brian prefer quiet nights at home or long walks on the beach?”
“Ha-ha. Smart-ass.”
*