Page 36 of Heart Stopping
HARLOW
I walked the couple of blocks to Cass' building. The doorman let me pass and make my way up to Cass' apartment. I was about to knock on the door, when it swung inward.
He stood with his hand on the knob, smiling at me. "Hey. Sorry, I saw you through the peephole." He jerked his head toward it.
"Were you standing there watching?" I teased as I stepped inside.
"I choose not to answer on the grounds I might incriminate myself," he said. He closed and locked the door behind me. "Dinner is almost ready."
"It smells delicious," I said sincerely. The apartment was filled with the smell of garlic and spices.
"One of the few things I know how to cook are tacos," he said apologetically. "I was hoping you didn't mind something so basic."
"I love tacos," I said. "If my restaurant wasn't Italian, it would have been Mexican."
"My two favorite cuisines," Cass said. He stepped over to the stove to stir the sauce that was bubbling away there. "And Chinese."
"Mine too," I said. "With a bit of Spanish and a lot of French thrown in for good measure."
"Talking about food like this is making me hungry." He opened a box of taco shells, and the plastic wrap around them as well. He jerked his head to flick his hair out of his eyes. "Would you like something to drink? I have beer, or soda. Or milkshakes."
A milkshake maker had pride of place on his counter.
"Beer sounds perfect," I said. "Thank you."
He opened the fridge, took out two beers and a bowl of what looked to be home-made guacamole. He set the bowl on the counter and handed me a beer.
"My mother's recipe. She refused to let me leave home without being able to make it." After a beat he added, "I refused to leave home until I knew how. I could sit down and eat an entire bowl of it."
I twisted the lid off my beer and tossed it into the trashcan beside the counter.
"Guacamole is a basic life skill, if you ask me. It's like knowing how to boil an egg."
"Or make coffee." He took a sip of beer before placing the bottle down and turning the heat off from under the chicken. Leaving it to cool for a few moments, he pulled out sliced tomato, more avocado, shredded lettuce and cheese.
"You've been busy," I said as he laid out everything so we could fill our own tacos.
"I'm sure you slice prettier than I do." He pulled a couple of plates out from the cabinet and handed one to me.
"At work, my knife skills have to be meticulous." Both at the restaurant and when dispatching predators. "At home, I'm a little bit rougher. Between you and me, it tastes about the same."
Not exactly the same. There was a reason for the uniformity in a professional kitchen. At home, I was never so fancy that I was going to police his vegetable and fruit-cutting skills.
I loaded up my taco with everything and sat down at the small table beside the kitchen.
"This is really good," I said after swallowing my first bite. "If you ever decide to stop working in IT, you can come work for me."
Pink crept up his cheeks. "I'm sure it's not that good."
"It's excellent," I assured him. "One of the best tacos I've ever had. And I don't go around saying that about any old taco."
"You should try my enchiladas some time," he said. His eyes widened when he realized that could be construed as an innuendo.
I laughed softly. "I'm sure your enchiladas are delicious."
I was drawn to him, I couldn't deny that, and not just for his enchilada, or because he might be able to help me to give my sister justice. There was something about this guy that made me want to be around him. Like a moth to flame, perhaps. Although, in this case, I was the flame and he was the one who might get burnt to a crisp.
His face was redder now. "Would it be wrong if I said I wanted to taste your burrito?"
