Two Truths & a Lime (The Love Game #3) - Elizabeth Hayley Page 0,32
security guards.
“Where’s Kevin?” Jeff asked.
Jake shrugged.
“He hasn’t come in yet,” I answered.
“Did either of you text him?”
I could see Jake trying to avoid eye contact with me when Jeff asked the question. “No. I think he drives in, and I didn’t wanna chance him looking at his phone on the road.” Jake was full of shit, but Jeff and Carole had no way of knowing that. “I can if you want me to. I’ll let him know we’re in here.”
“Actually,” Carole said, “you can just let him know to stay home today. And every day for the rest of the summer. If he can’t bother to show up on time, he shouldn’t bother to show up at all.”
“I’ll let him know,” Jake said.
And then there were two.
Chapter Twelve
S O P H I A
I knocked on Drew’s apartment door at exactly six p.m., as requested.
When Drew had called me and invited me to dinner at his place, I couldn’t deny how it made butterflies flutter a bit in my tummy. It was such a sweet gesture that I ignored the concern that had crept up over the state of Drew’s ability to cook.
Despite having lived with him for months, I’d never witnessed him put a full meal together. Something simple, sure. But what he’d alluded to was a bit more elaborate. Or maybe he was really overselling a grilled cheese dinner. Or maybe he’d ordered in.
That thought brought me a modicum of solace as the door was pulled open to reveal…
“Brody?” What the hell was my brother doing here?
“Enter, madam,” he said as he bowed slightly and swept his hand across his body to gesture me inside.
“Have you been body snatched? What are you doing?” I asked, my voice harsh and accusatory, as it normally was when dealing with my brother.
“Nothing. Not a thing. Perfectly wonderful,” he rambled as he hurried back to the kitchen.
I followed him warily and watched him lift the lid on a pot and stir something. “Wait. You’re cooking?”
“He’s helping,” Drew said as he appeared from the hallway carrying…was that Aamee’s hair dryer?
“Dude, that’s not going to work,” Brody warned.
“Just shut up and worry about your sauce.”
“It’s chili.”
Drew leaned in and looked at the contents of the pot as Brody continued to stir.
“It is?”
Oh God.
“Yeah, I told you that,” Brody said, sounding exasperated.
“I know, but I thought you changed your mind once I saw you actually making it.”
“Why? I put all kinds of stuff in here.”
Drew plugged in the hair dryer and turned it on before holding it over a bowl of…something.
“What is that?” I asked. “Oh, and hi, by the way.”
“Oh shit, sorry.” Drew started to move toward me but must have forgotten he was holding a plugged-in hair dryer, because he jerked the cord out of the wall, which made it knock into the bowl he’d been using it on, causing rice to plop to the floor. “Oh, fuck you, Gordon Ramsay.”
I couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of me. “Gordon Ramsay?”
“His website said this recipe was foolproof. Fucking liar.”
I walked closer to inspect the mess. “This is probably a stupid question, but why were you using a hair dryer on it?”
“Because it was too wet,” he said, as if that answer were the most obvious thing in the world.
I hummed in response because, honestly, what else did one say when learning the love of their life was a culinary nightmare who fucked up rice?
“That’s okay,” Brody said proudly. “We still have my chili.”
The words had no sooner left his mouth than the brown concoction began to bubble over the rim of the pot.
“Shit,” Brody squealed as he attempted to thwart the disaster by shoving the lid down and holding it tightly in place. But the brown sludge would not be deterred as it oozed from the crease between the pot and the ill-fitting lid that clearly didn’t match it.
I walked over and turned the stove off, taking a potholder that was lying on the counter and moving the pot to another burner.
Brody and Drew looked at each other in panic before exclaiming in unison, “The cornbread!” They both hustled me out of the way so they could pull the oven open, which allowed black smoke to billow out of it.
Brody turned the oven off as Drew looked around frantically.
I tossed him the oven mitts, which he caught and put on before pulling out a charred mess. He dropped the pan onto one of the stove burners and stepped