Fumbled Beginning: A Brother's Best Friend Sports Romance (The Atlanta Arrows Book 2) by S. Jones

Author:S. Jones [Jones, S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-10-11T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 14

JP

“What is all this?” Rylee paused mid-step when she saw all the ingredients on my kitchen counter.

My bare feet padded across the kitchen. “What does it look like?” I slid her overnight bag off her shoulder and unhooked Oakley’s leash from his collar.

He ran across the room where I had a dog dish and toys set up by the sliding glass door.

“I assumed we were going to order takeout?” Her eyes surveyed all the ingredients, trying to figure out what we were making.

“Nope.” I gave her a quick peck on the lips and directed her over to the counter, where I had all the food prepped. “We are making my favorite meal.”

“Which is?” she asked, playing with the buttons of her black and white flannel.

“Chicken Riggies.”

Her nose scrunched up. “What on earth is that?”

Chuckling, I poured a glass of wine and slid it over to her. “It’s a popular dish in Upstate New York.”

“Sounds interesting.” Her eyebrows drew together when I handed her an apron. “Um…I don’t cook.”

“At all?” I stared at her in disbelief.

“Does a grilled cheese count?”

My mouth hung open. “How is that possible? I’ve been to your parents’ house, your mom is an amazing cook. She had to have taught you a few things over the years.”

She shrugged. “She tried, but I was never good at it.”

I tied the strings to the apron along her back. “Do you bake?”

Her snort said it all.

“My mind is blown,” I said, guiding her over to the chopped vegetables. “Looks like you are going to get your first official cooking class.”

“You can’t expect me to help you.” Her eyes looked scared. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“It’s not hard.”

She sighed. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“First, we are going to sauté the chicken.” I placed my hands on her shoulders and guided her over to the stove. I added the olive oil to the pan and waited until it sizzled before adding the chicken.

“Where did you learn to cook?” she asked, moving the chicken around with the wooden spoon.

I dropped the plate in the sink to rinse it off. “I waited tables when I was in high school. My buddy Adam was the chef, so I would hang out in the kitchen with him when we weren’t busy.”

“I bet you were pretty popular with the ladies.”

“They were all old and married, but they tipped pretty good.” I smirked.

“I bet they did.” She nudged me in the side. “How about your mom, did she cook?”

“Yep.” I sipped my wine. “But with three boys, she didn’t want us hanging out in the kitchen. It was her space. The only time we were allowed in was when dishes needed to be washed or the trash needed to be taken out.”

She laughed. “The only way Maverick would find his way in the kitchen was if there was a plate of cookies that needed to be eaten.”

“Now, that’s not true. He can grill, I know that for a fact.” I raised a brow and grabbed a wet cloth to wipe down the counter.

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