Page 19 of Freedom's Kiss
Chapter 9
Present Day, Florida
He almost hated to see Mr. Grumpy Gills’s demise.Almost. The smells wafting across Olivia’s parents’ kitchen to where he sat on a stool at the island made the idea of Grumpy Gills’s future more…palatable. The corner of Adam’s lip lifted at his own joke and the memory of Olivia deepening her voice, pushing her lips together, and squeezing the fish’s mouth. She’d come up with the most painful puns imaginable, but it’d done the trick. Well, mostly. His foul mood was gone, but the ever-present guilt that jammed between his shoulder blades hadn’t left.
He tilted his head and stretched the muscles in his neck—a futile attempt to alleviate the physical pressure. A constant reminder he didn’t need because he’d never be able to forget his part in Brittany Foresythe’s pain. Never be able to make up for it, though he’d tried.
God knew, he’d tried.
Humming pulled his mind out of introspection, refocused his zoned-out gaze on Olivia. She wore a red apron with white polka dots and a white ruffled sweetheart neckline—he was really going to have to wrestle the remote away from Amber more often—tied about her waist. She brushed a fillet with olive oil, then topped it with fresh minced garlic and salt. Bringing the bowl closer to her, she pinched the seasoning mixture inside, then sprinkled it generously over the tilapia. Next, she transferred the fillet to a skillet, melted butter popping as the meat hit the pan. Shifting her weight to the left, she positioned herself in front of the other burner and picked up the whisk she’d left in the pot of grits, stirring in quick, confident strokes. She turned off the flame and moved the pot from the heat.
In his food truck, he’d dubbed her a hurricane, always moving with gale-force ferocity, never slowing or stopping. But here in her own kitchen, she seemed more…graceful. Steadier. Still determined, still focused, still on the move, but without the added exertion of striving. Like here, on her own turf, she didn’t have something to prove. Which was backward because that was exactly what she was doing—proving her dishes would be an asset to his menu.
“This is one of my favorite dishes of hers.” David Arroyo slid onto a stool beside Adam.
Adam turned toward the man, a little disappointed to no longer watch Olivia work. “I can see why. It smells delicious.”
“She’s always been a talent in the kitchen, which is good since her mother can’t cook worth a hill of beans.” David winked, then leaned back, a look of expectation passing over his face.
“Says the man who burns everything!” shot a disgruntled female voice down the hall.
David chuckled, as if pleased with himself. “Olivia, tell your mother that it takes culinary skill to add a smoky flavor to food.”
Eileen Arroyo emerged from the opposite side of the house. “Tell your father that’s only the case when one uses a smoker and not the blackened chars at the bottom of a pot.”
Olivia waved a hand from her position at the stove. “I’m Switzerland over here.”
Adam found his grin spreading. No doubt where Olivia got her quick wit.
David rose and planted a kiss on his wife’s cheek. “I’m only kidding,mi amor.” With an arm slung over Eileen shoulders, he pulled her close and looked back at Adam. “Actually, my wife is a great cook. And that is all thanks to my saintly mother.” With a quick sidestep, he managed to dodge Eileen’s swat.
She planted her hands on her hips, but the twinkle in her eye belied her true feelings. With a shrug, she let her arms fall. “He’s not wrong, although I’ll concede to your mother teaching me only how to make Guatemalan food. With everything else, I could handle myself in the kitchen, even back then.”
“And now every Christmas I make myself fat with your tamales.”
“Is that where your family is from? Guatemala?” Adam sipped the orange-mango smoothie Olivia had made before starting on the fish. He had to admit it tasted great—refreshing and cool—and the preparation wouldn’t take long in the truck. He’d need to invest in a heavy-duty blender, but with the heat of the summer, it would be a popular item.
David nodded. “Born and raised. My family came to the States when I was a teenager. My grandmother had come over first and sponsored us. We waited years for our names to come up in the green card lottery. Got my citizenship a few years later and been here ever since. That was…” He touched his thumb to his other fingers in succession. “Thirty-one years ago.”
“Wow. Do you ever miss it?”
“I’ve taken Eileen and Olivia to visit, and I keep my heritage alive in my heart, but this is my country now. My home.” David sat back down on his stool. Hands at Eileen’s waist, he plopped her down on his lap. Her cheeks reddened, but she didn’t make any effort to stand or move to her own chair.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “What about you? Where are you from?”
Adam splayed his hands. “Here. Grew up in the house my parents still live in. I moved out, but not far. Same town.”
“And heritage?”
Olivia turned from the stove, two bowls of grits and blackened fish in her hands. “My mom’s really interested in ancestry and things like that.” She set one bowl in front of Adam and the other in front of her parents before going back for the other two bowls beside the stove.
Eileen shrugged, a sort ofwhat can I say?movement. “Sorry if I was too nosey. David always says my curiosity gets the better of me.”
Olivia returned with the last of the dishes and slid onto a third stool.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Arroyo. I wasn’t offended. And I’m a bit of a Heinz 57, I guess. Haven’t really looked into my ancestry.”
The woman’s eyes lit up. “It’s so fascinating. Why, my friend Debbie has been digging into her past, and she discovered that she’s descended from one of the Puritans that traveled on the Mayflower. Can you imagine?” She tapped her chin. “I wonder who I’d find I was related to.”
