Jilted Jock - Rebecca Jenshak Page 0,31
I’ve seen your fridge and I’ve read your gratitude journal. I distinctly remember seeing takeaway on the list of things you were grateful for more than once. Along with really odd foods like beef wellington and baked Alaska – none of which I’ve seen you make.”
“Maybe I’m just busy and grateful for the convenience of takeaway.”
He waited me out.
“Fine, I can’t cook.” I shot him a playful glare. “Beef wellington and baked Alaska are on my list of things to learn to make someday.”
He smirked. “Like a cooking for dummies class?”
I took the knife from him. “Something like that.”
I diced the onion while Finn cooked the chicken and boiled water for the noodles. Eventually I sat down on the stool on the other side of the kitchen counter and watched him work. Let’s be honest, I wasn’t providing a lot of value anyway.
“Did you and the ex cook together a lot?”
He paused with the spatula lifted above the pan and I regretted bringing it up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Just curious. From everything I’ve seen, your lives looked more like an episode of the Kardashians than Rachel Ray.”
“Cindy preferred going out. She didn’t like the mess or the smell.”
“The smell?”
He’d gone back to stirring again and I noticed how at ease he looked and how down to earth he seemed. I was having a hard time getting a handle on which Finn was real – this one, or was this just Finn fresh off a broken heart hiding out from the world?
“Yeah, she didn’t like the smells lingering after dinner.”
“As opposed to it smelling like scented candles and incense?”
He chuckled, turned the heat down, and covered the pan. Sitting next to me on the other stool, Finn said, “I guess so.”
He propped an elbow on the counter and gave me his full attention. “Does the boyfriend cook?”
“No, he’s hopeless in the kitchen, too.”
“So, you guys just eat out all the time?”
“During the week, it’s just me. Cooking for one is hard and not very fun so I usually grab something for lunch and then save half of it for dinner. On the weekends when we’re together we order in or sometimes go out. We have to cram all our date nights into a weekend. Sometimes we go two or three weeks without seeing each other.”
“It was like that for Cindy and me in the beginning too.”
“It was?”
“We started dating when I was still in Sydney. The time difference was killer. We were lucky to talk on the phone most days.”
“How did you meet?”
With a goofy grin on his face, he said, “She messaged me.”
“Like slid into your DMs with some sort of flirty message or…” My eyes widened. “A sexy picture?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Nothing like that. She messaged me after a game. A brutal loss against New Zealand. She told me—” He paused and looked at me with a smile that had me hanging on his every word. “That I’d played too wide and then proceeded to give me tips on playing right midfield. God, she was ballsy.”
His smile fell slowly and then as if he’d caught himself reliving a happy memory, he straightened. “Anyway, I guess it should have been a sign to run away instead of to her, but I was just so damn fascinated. Usually after a loss, girls wanted to make me feel better by telling me how great I was or offering to make me forget about the game, and she was just… well she was nothing I expected.”
“What do you mean it should have been a sign?”
“I wasn’t good enough for her from the very start.”
“Finn, I—”
He winced. “Please don’t give me one of those bullshit lines about how I’m better off or that everything happens for a reason.”
“What I was going to say is that I get it – why you fell for her. She challenged you and you, Finn McCash, are not used to being challenged off the field. But also, those cheesy lines are right – you’re better off.”
“And everything happens for a reason?”
“I’m not sure I believe that one myself.”
“You’re different than I expected.” Finn stood and went to the stove to check on the food.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You wouldn’t do a guy a solid and watch his cat for a night or two, I assumed you were judgmental and uptight.”
“Kitty needed you.”
“Yes, yes, I know. You’re a fan of my cat. Tell me, are you a fan of mine yet?”
“You’re growing on me.”
The dimple