Page 62 of Just the Tipsy
“Yeah. They just like being with their people no matter what. Even if you’re in a shitty mood, they’re there to cheer you up.” I gently slide Murphy across the floor with my foot and move Sadie over near where Duke is sitting.
“It’s nice. If I’d known dogs were like that, I might have gotten one a long time ago,” she says, looking over at Sadie with a soft smile in her eyes. “I had a lot of days where I needed that.”
I wash my hands and open my fridge to double check I have what I need. My grocery shopping strategy is just grabbing whatever looks good and figuring it out later.
“The pasta sauce is just a Bolognese. I can easily make it without dairy,” I say, pulling out some Italian sausage and beef. I grab an onion and garlic bulb next. “It’ll go well with the wine.”
“That sounds amazing.” She rests her hands on the counter. “I can only cook about four things, and even then I rely on pre-chopped veggies.”
“Do you want to learn how to cook this?” I ask, pulling out the cutting board and pots. “It’s really easy.”
“Sure, yeah. And I’d feel bad for not helping.” She comes around to the side of the island where I am. “How can I help?”
“You fine with touching raw meat? You could mix the seasoning in the ground beef and sausage while I start making the sauce.” I grab a bowl from the cabinet and put it down, then dig through my spice rack to find the right seasonings.
“Yeah, I can handle the meat. You’re making the sauce from scratch?” she asks.
“Yeah. It’s not that hard.” I shrug and chop up an onion.
“Says you. I’m impressed.”
A stupid flush of masculine pride appears in my chest. I busy myself, trying to get a hold of my knee-jerk reaction. But what guy wouldn’t be psyched that he impressed a beautiful woman?
A guy who had some sense to keep women, especially women I explicitly set out to not date, in the back of his head.
I ask her about her day as she starts mixing in the seasoning into the meat and she fills me in on how everything is going at work and with her prep for running the business. It sounds like she’s hit a good stride. Even if she’s not staying here for long after she sells the house, I’m glad she’s adjusting to Jepsen more.
Dinner comes together as quickly after the pasta cooks, and I fill two bowls with pasta, topping it with a little chopped parsleyto make it look fancy. I grab some parmesan for myself, and the wine.
“This looks super good.” she says.
I watch her take the first bites as I put cheese on my pasta. She takes a small bite, then nods.
“Like it?” I ask.
“So good.” She digs in again. “I should add learning to cook more stuff to my list. I can make whatever looks trendy. I still don’t get the point of a smoothie bowl, though. Just drink the damn thing.”
I laugh. “I can teach you a few things. Or we could go to Nana’s and she’d be happy to help. Though she might just sit in a chair and roast you while she barks orders.”
“That would be fun.” She smiles and my heart flutters despite myself. She smiles so much more when we’re alone and it makes her even prettier. “I’m assuming you’re speaking from experience?”
“Yeah.” I take a swig of the wine. “Nana’s my mom’s mom, but they couldn’t be more different. Nana doesn’t give a single shit of what people think about her and she’s always willing to give you her opinion, even if it’s hard to hear. She’s taught all of my brothers how to cook, at least a little. Wes is the best at it.”
“Yeah, Rose brings leftovers to lunch and they always smell so good.” She takes a dainty sip of wine, whatever gloss she has on her lips leaving an imprint on her glass. “This is going to sound terrible, but the closest I’ve gotten to a home cooked meal that tasted good is something our family’s private chef made.”
“A home good meal that tasted good,” I point out. “So there have been ones that tasted bad?”
“Yeah, sometimes my parents’ friends have double dates with them to cooking classes at wineries. They’ll come home thinking they’re hot shit with what they learned. Then my dad will overcook stuff, and my mom will overseason everything.” Sheswirls her wine in the glass, warmth in her eyes. “Mom always claims that she grew up knowing how to cook, but I really doubt it. No one can regressthathard.”
“Sounds like you miss them.”
“I do.” She pushes some noodles around on her plate. “Being around them is really relaxing and always has been. I guess it’s because they’re into the actual music rather than all the shit that comes with being famous, so things feel more normal. Dad notoriously hates doing press and once the hype from her biggest hit songs died down, Mom mostly focused on working behind the scenes or doing normal mom stuff.”
“That would go a long way in making things feel more normal,” I say.
“Yeah. They’re kind of like me — they like stuff like trying a new restaurant or staying in like this with dinner and a movie.” She shrugs. “Some people say it’s boring, but sometimes the little spots of boring are just what we need in between rushing around.”
“Yeah. I’m starting to appreciate it more.”
