The Kiss Quotient (The Kiss Quotient #1)(45)

“Does it take very long?” she asked with a frown.

The corner of his mouth tipped up sheepishly. “I don’t think so, no. Let’s go say hi to my mom and grandma, and then I’ll feed you. Okay?”

“Okay.”

She followed him through the dining room and into the kitchen where Sophie and Evie were dishing rice noodles, shredded mint and lettuce, and barbecued beef into large bowls. They looked to be back on speaking terms. Considering their track record of enemies one day, best friends the next, that was about right. Ngo?i and his mom were slicing up heaps of mangoes at the informal seating area where they did all their eating—the formal dining table was for presentation only. Ngo?i was dressed in her favorite black knit cardigan, and his mom wore a Christmas sweater even though it wasn’t holiday season.

“Hi Ngo?i, M?,” Michael said.

His mom nodded at him before considering Stella. “Welcome back. Dinner’s ready soon. Sit and eat, ah?”

Stella smiled, but her grip on his hand was fierce. “Sure, thank you. It looks good.”

“These two are Sophie and Evie. They’re not twins,” he said, bringing her to the kitchen island that was covered with food stored in brand-new Pyrex containers. “Sophie—the one with that red stripe in her hair, God, when did you get that?—is an interior decorator, and Evie is a physical therapist.”

“Hi, Stella,” they said at the same time. Mom must have told them about Stella’s apology because it looked like they wanted to make a fresh start.

Stella gave a tiny wave. “Hi.”

“Is Angie here?” he asked.

“Nope. More work stuff,” Evie said.

“On a Saturday,” Sophie added with a sneer.

“Because people work—”

“On Saturdays—”

“All the time.”

The sisters faced one another and traded knowing glances.

Michael whispered in Stella’s ear, “They’ve been finishing each other’s sentences since they were little. I think they’re aliens.”

Stella’s lips trembled into another smile, and she leaned into him. Poor shy girl. His family had to be overwhelming for her, and this wasn’t even all of them. He tightened his hand around hers and fought the desire to kiss her. Something about the way she turned to him like he was her safe place satisfied caveman needs Michael hadn’t known he possessed.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Where are Janie and Maddie?”

“Upstairs doing homework. They’ll come down when they’re hungry. They both have tests soon.”

“They’re the two youngest,” he explained to Stella. “Maddie is the baby. She’s a sophomore at San Jose State.”

“I’m going to forget everyone’s names.” She looked so worried—Michael melted a little. Why did she care? These people couldn’t be special to her. They were just his family.

“That’s okay. I wish I could.”

“Very funny, Michael,” Evie said with a roll of her eyes. “You only have to remember me. I’m a PT, so if you get carpal tunnel or something, you know who to look for. Posture is everything.”

“Why couldn’t you be a doctor, then, E?” his mom asked as she peeled her tenth mango. “All I wanted was a doctor in the family, and not one of you could do that for me.”

“Stella’s a doctor,” Michael said with a grin.

Her eyes rounded into giant buttons. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. You have a PhD. That makes you a doctor. And you went to the University of Chicago, the best school for economics in the U.S., probably the world. You graduated magna cum laude.”

As he’d known would happen, his mom perked up with interest. “That’s fantastic.”

Stella blushed, bringing much needed color to her cheeks. “How did you . . .”

“Google stalking.”

Her eyes searched his, and a surprised smile hinted at the corners of her mouth. “You stalked me?”

He shrugged. It was his turn to feel awkward now.

“Okay, lovebirds, dinner’s ready. Come eat,” Sophie said. She set down a bowl filled with noodles that had been cut short with scissors and ultra-thin sliced meat in front of Ngo?i and kissed her temple like she would a baby.

Once they’d seated themselves at the table, Michael watched as Stella carefully mimicked Sophie’s food preparation ritual, adding chili sauce, pickled daikon and carrots, bean sprouts, and fish sauce to her bowl of noodles, greens, and beef.

“Have you ever had this before?” he asked.

She shook her head absently as she mixed everything together and took a bite. Her eyes opened wide, and she grinned as she covered her mouth. “You’re a good cook.”

“Michael is very good with his hands,” his mom said with a proud nod.

Sophie rolled her eyes before she smirked suggestively and asked Stella, “Do you agree? Is he ‘good with his hands’?”

His mom scowled at Sophie, but Stella merely smiled and nodded. “I think so.”

Sophie arched her eyebrows and sent Michael an is she for real? look.

As dinner progressed, Michael watched Stella through a new lens provided by his recent discovery. He didn’t notice so much when it was just the two of them, but she had trouble with eye contact. She rarely spoke unless someone asked her a direct question, and then her answers were short and to the point. When she listened, however, her focus was the kind of stuff she probably used on complex economic problems. She frowned, hanging on every word like it was of utmost importance.