Brad turns his head in my direction; I know he’s listening to me. He may also be sunning himself on a rock, but he’s listening.
Shuddering, I head into the kitchen and pull out the ingredients I need to try out one of my appetizers for the bachelor auction. Potato flan with a truffle cream.
As I get the water boiling on the stove and start peeling potatoes, I can’t help but let my thoughts drift back to when I dated Todd. Travis had warned me not to, but I had to play with fire. I let him sweep me off my feet. It started small, with a coffee date after we met at a game. I’d gone with Travis to watch some new clients of his play, and Todd was on the team. He wasn’t the Todd Taylor that people know now. These days, he’s a hockey superstar who is known for being difficult to work with. I can say I saw it coming.
I turn on the oven and pull my premade truffle cream out of the fridge. I grab the molds I need and get everything organized before putting it in the oven. I’ve got fifty minutes.
While I wait, I run through the shower and try not to entertain the ickiness I feel inside that comes from having dated someone like Todd. Some women would like the fact that this guy was trying to get back in their good graces. It’s the second time in the past month he’s sent flowers. But I know the player,andthe game.
I also know that humiliation is not my color.
My timer dings, letting me know that the appetizers are ready to try. I made way too many, but as long as at least one of them tastes good, I’ll feel like I’ve got a solid handle on this dish.
As I open the oven door, I hear the front door to the apartment upstairs slam shut. Frannie must be home. Eyeing the flowers and the extra potato flan in front of me, I know exactly where this stuff can go.
A few minutes later, Frannie opens her door to my knock with a surprised look on her face as I hand her the bouquet.
“Again?” she asks with a wry smile. “Is that jerk head still trying to apologize?”
“You know it,” I respond, waiting for her to put the flowers down before I hand her the plate. “I’m trying this dish—an appetizer—potato flan with a truffle cream. Have some and let me know what you think.”
“You’re the best neighbor ever. Thank you, dear.” Frannie throws a thumb over her shoulder at a jersey that’s still thrown across the back of her dining room chair. “I still need to pass on that jersey to my grandson. He’s going to love it. I’m saving it for his birthday.”
I eye the familiar fabric. It’s Todd’s jersey that I wore to a few games of his before the lies came out. “Shame it’s Todd’s…”
“I’m going to encourage him to sell it on eBay, don’t you worry,” she jokes as she squeezes my arm. “Or, maybe instead of giving it to him, I should use it for the Big Brothers Big Sisters program.”
“Are you working on that fundraiser with my mom?”
“I sure am.” Frannie floats across the foyer and places the bouquet on her dining room table. “Not sure why, but we have fewer adults in the area signing up than we’ve had in the past. It’s discouraging, and we need more people.”
Nodding my head, I cross my arms. “Do you think a fundraiser is going to do the trick?”
“I’m not convinced. I think we need a draw card, something bigger than a night of education, and silent auction items like gift cards to a coffee shop and the like, no offense to any cafe owners. It’s just that it’s a little boring, but don’t you dare tell your mother I said that.”
“Not a problem,” I say with a giggle, still standing in her doorway. “But I think you’re right. Any thoughts or ideas for a new way to recruit?”
“Not yet, but I’m brainstorming,” Frannie says. “I feel like we need to get some people in who can speak to what the program is about and how they helped them.”
“Like past little brothers and sisters who are now older and maybe paying it forward?”
“Yes, or ones who have gone on to great things. Like the Porter boys.”
“Oh, that is true!” My head nods automatically. “I always forget those two grew up without a dad.”
“Yep. Their mom is amazing. She’s mentioned to me in the past that the Big Brothers Big Sisters program helped her and them at a time when she was at her wit’s end.”
The Porter brothers are not only my truffle supplier, but they’re also a little bit famous for these parts. Both boys were stars of our football team in high school and have gone on to play for opposing NFL teams. They’re absolute dreamboats who Travis and I grew up with. Levi and Austin are hilarious, a trait that is showcased on their weekly podcast they host together.
“You know, I’m going to see them this week to pick up some truffles. Do you want me to feel them out for you?”
Frannie’s eyes light up. “Would you? That would be amazing. They are the kind of draw that I think could get more adults to sign up once they hear their story.”
“I’m happy to see what they say.” I take a step back and toss a hand in the air. “I'll let you know what happens.”
We say goodbye and I head back to my place, closing the door behind me. The slight movement sends the scent of something like clean sheets and sandalwood to my senses, and a snap of excitement makes me sigh.
It smells like Jake.
