Page 48 of Hot Damn
Glancing at the time on the microwave, I calculate what I have to do before the start of the Rogues’ Fan Barbecue and shrug. “I’ve got time.”
“Sure. Did you talk to the head of security?” Beckett asks as he comes closer. “And tell us what we can do to help you pull something together.”
“Yes. He’s going to talk to you tonight and arrange to come over tomorrow.”
“I can give him a key and he can come while I’m at training and Whit’s at school.”
“Why do we need a security guy here?” Whitney eyes us suspiciously.
“Because our system is out of date and I want the garage wired up,” Beckett says as though it’s no big deal.
I smile at Whitney and ask, “How does a nibble platter sound?”
“Do we have stuff for that?” she asks, peering into the fridge beside me.
“Sure. Give me some room and I’ll pass you what will work.”
“Okay.” Stepping back, she waits, her gaze bouncing between me and her dad.
I noticed a tub of hummus and a bottle of ranch dressing when I put the leftovers away last night and I know I saw a bunch of veggies and fruit in here too. “Do you have some corn chips or crackers?”
“Yeah. I’ll get them,” Beckett answers.
Passing things behind me I hear Whitney muttering with each one. Once I think there’s enough to fill both their bellies, I close the fridge and turn. Both Beckett and Whitney eye the food on the counter.
It’s Beckett who voices the concern I see on their faces. “Is this enough for all of us?”
“All of us?”
“You’re staying, right? We can’t expect you to put something together and then not eat with us.”
“Oh. I…” I honestly hadn’t thought about it but now that he’s put it out there, it seems stupid to put a platter together for them to eat while we wait for Cal to get here with Whitney’s car and not join them. “Hold on.”
Spinning back, I yank the fridge open again and grab a jar of olives and a block of cheese. I’ll cut up one of the apples Beckett has in the bowl on the counter too. Now we’ll have cold cuts, veggies, fruit, crackers, and cheese, with two dips to choose from.
“We just lay all this out and pick what we want to dip?” Beckett asks, already getting to work on opening packages.
“Some of it we should cut into sticks. Like the apple, cheese, cucumber, carrots?—”
“I get it.” He moves away and comes back with a chopping board and knife. “I’ll cut, you set it up.”
Whitney hands me a large platter. “I don’t think this is going to be big enough and it’s the biggest we’ve got.”
“Got some foil? Or baking paper?”
“Yeah, that drawer over there.” Beckett points his knife toward the fridge.
“What are you going to do with it?” Whitney asks.
“Spread it out on the counter. We’ll pile everything on it then we can roll it up and toss it out when we’re done.”
“Wow, that’s a cool idea. I never would have thought of it. Dad and I would probably have used lots of plates.”
“We could do that too. Bowls or plates would work but this way there isn’t much clean up and it’s kind of fun to eat off the counter. A bit of rebellion against manners.” I grin.
They’re both looking at me. Whitney with awe and Beckett with a curious, confused expression, like he’s trying to work me out and can’t.
I don’t mind that. If I’m honest, I like it. A lot. Having his interest isn’t something I’ve really thought about. Our first few interactions weren’t good, he wasn’t nice, but with each subsequent one, there’s a subtle shift in our demeanor. His mainly.
