Page 53 of Mine Forever
Chase rocks back on his heels. “I didn’t eat lunch, and I noticed you didn’t either. Want to share an early dinner?” His gaze holds mine when he says, “We need to talk about some things, Eden.”
He’s right, no way around it.
In business, I’m good about facing things head-on.
My personal life is another story.
The business of my heart and the business of putting on a good show are two different things.
Even if there is a fine line in there somewhere.
I straighten my shoulders and nod. “Sure. I owe you dinner anyway.”
He shakes his head with a sweet smile that for a moment reminds me of the little boy I’d grown up with. “Consider breakfast payment. I got dinner. I’ll see you in the kitchen.”
“Deal. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
A quick change into a pair of well-worn jeans and a tank top and I head toward the kitchen, where I find Chase slicing up a slab of red meat.
He nods toward the bottle of my favorite beer on thecounter. “I don’t know if you still drink that or not, but I took my chances.”
“Thanks.” I squeeze the lime in the top and take a long sip.
My insides sigh when the icy cold carbonation hits my tongue. I swallow the smooth liquid, letting it warm me from the inside out. “You remembered.”
His gaze lifts to mine, a swirl of emotions in his green depths. “I remember everything.”
After a beat, he goes back to slicing the meat, and I stand there tongue-tied and on the verge of tears, unable to do much more than stare at him.
“It looks like you were going to make fajitas.”
“I was.” I groan and put a hand over my empty, and now growling, belly. “I was going to try and copy your steak fajitas. But I doubt I would have made them as good.”
He grins. “Still your favorite?”
“Hell, yeah.”
Because not only is the man a legendary baseball player who looks like an Adonis and made me see stars in bed, but he can also cook that fine baseball ass off.
Especially fajitas.
I prop an elbow on the counter and drop my chin into my hand. “What seasoning do you use to make it taste so good? I’ve tried different brands and can never find one as good.”
He shakes his head as he slides the meat off the cutting board and into a bowl. “Can’t tell you that. Family recipe.”
“What do you mean by a family recipe?”
A smile touches his lips as he works. “The foster family my mother lived with when she was a teenager had a grandmother that would come over, and she was Mexican. Had a special recipe she used that my mother remembered. And she taught us.”
“Really? I didn’t know your mom was in the foster system. You never mentioned it.”
He reaches for a green pepper and starts to chop it with precise movements. “It’s not exactly a topic of conversation I talked about with people. I wasn’t ashamed. It just never came up.”
“Yeah, but…” I trail off, sipping my beer.
We’d been more than a passing boyfriend, girlfriend thing. We’d made future plans, confessed our love. And I still didn’t know.
He shrugs a shoulder as he scrapes the peppers off into the bowl with the meat. “It’s not a big deal, Eden. She didn’t really talk about it with us. I guarantee that most of the women at her supper club never knew either.”
