Page 44 of Roommate
I look down at the dough I’ve been working and see that it’s supple and smooth already. “Right. What do you need?”
“Two things. First one—can you set up a batch of biscotti for the morning? I’m opening with you, and I’ll be hung-over.”
“Sure.” I chuckle. “How come?”
“That’s the second thing I need from you. My place, seven thirty. Hockey-viewing party—Brooklyn versus the Bruins. My honey is playing, and I just ordered up satellite TV so I could see every game. There will be food and tequila.”
“You need me to cook for that?”
“No way.” She gives me a face, like I’ve said something dumb. “I need you to come. We’ll have a good time.”
“Oh.” I feel a rush of gratitude. “What can I bring?”
“Nothing. Except your roommate. That boy works too hard. Do you like hockey?”
“Well, I never watched before. There’s too much padding concealing all that male hotness.”
Zara gives a belly laugh. “You have to use your imagination. I know I will. See you tonight.”
* * *
After work I’m on the prowl for ripe avocados. I strike out at two different grocery stores, but I’ll be damned if I show up to Zara’s party empty-handed. Luckily I find them at a store in Montpelier.
When I pull up to the house, Kieran’s truck is already in the driveway. Yes. I can teach him to make guacamole. Every man should be able to make a fresh guacamole.
“Hey, Kieran,” I say as I come through the backdoor. “Want to learn how to make the food of the gods?”
“Maybe,” he calls from the living room. “Need a minute.” His voice drops down to a softer register, and he says something I can’t quite catch. I decide he’s on the phone. But then I hear a distinctly non-Kieran squeal.
Curious, I deposit my grocery bag on the counter and then tip-toe into the living room. I find Kieran on the couch, and he’s not alone. There’s a very beautiful redhead on his lap. But I’m only a little jealous, because the girl in question is only one or maybe two years old.
They are reading Frog and Toad are Friends. It’s so freaking cute that my heart melts like a lump of butter in a hot pan.
Kieran looks up at me with an embarrassed grin. “Zara ran out to the store. Have you met Nicole?”
“Hi, baby,” I say, giving her a wave. I don’t really have any experience with kids.
“That’s Roderick,” Kieran says in a gentle voice. “He’s coming to your party, too.”
“Watch. Daddy,” the little creature says.
“Right,” Kieran agrees.
“More,” Nicole says, pointing at the book.
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiles, and I turn to mush inside. Could Kieran be any cuter?
I leave the two of them to their book. In the kitchen, I cut the avocados and scoop the flesh into a mixing bowl. I mince garlic and squeeze limes. And I listen to the low sound of Kieran’s voice reading about Frog and Toad, until finally it stops.
A moment later he appears in the kitchen. He’s still holding the toddler, but she’s passed out on his shoulder.
“Wow,” I say.
“Actually, this happens a lot when I talk to women.”
I let out a bark of laughter. It’s awfully loud, so I clap a hand over my mouth. Kieran doesn’t make jokes that often, but they’re usually dry and terribly funny. I’ve got it so bad.
“You couldn’t be any hotter than you are right now,” I point out. “Just saying.”
