He snorts a laugh. “I promise it’s not. Just scroll.”
I tug the phone out of his fingers, still eyeing him skeptically. He makes a little shooing gesture and I roll my eyes before looking at the phone. The second I do, my jaw drops.
Instead of poorly lit phallic pictures, there are endless images of beautiful plates of food.
Perfectly positioned pieces of meat, sauces that look like flawless pools, charred vegetables, and colorful flowers accenting them. Each one looks like a piece of art, so beautiful I don’t even know if I would eat these if they were served to me.
I look back at him to find his gaze fixed on me. Instead of a smug grin like I would expect, he’s wearing a proud, boyish smile. He reaches over and flicks the screen, scrolling to another picture.
“That one’s my favorite. Black raspberry pie with homemade black raspberry gelato.”
I look back at the screen and see that it’s a neatly cut slice of pie, the berry filling oozing out so dark it’s nearly black. It’s plated on a dark gray ceramic dish, and on top of the pie is a small black scoop of gelato, so smooth it almost looks fake.
Holy crap. I wasn’t hungry a minute ago, but I’m pretty sure I just moaned at the thought of eating that.
“That looks amazing.”
He plucks the phone out of my hand and tucks it back into his pocket.
“Thanks. I’d love to make it for you sometime.”
I give him a questioning look. “Are you asking me on a date?”
He smirks and shakes his head. “I don’t thinkpretty boyslike me are your type. And I meant at the restaurant, when it opens. It’ll be on the menu.”
Oh. My shoulders slump just the tiniest amount because for some inexplicable reason, I liked the idea of him making a meal just for me. That doesn’t stop me from making a mental note that I want to try everything on the menu at this restaurant if he’s the one cooking it.
CHAPTER 2
SUTTON
Two Years Later
Sterling Springs, New Mexico
My gripon the handle tightens and I try harder to turn the wrench. This stupid rusted bolt has been giving me fits for almost half an hour and my neck is sore from craning my head to reach it. I know better than to complain about working on a car that’s up on a professional mechanics lift, especially a newer, state-of-the-art one like this, but the work is still backbreaking. I roll my neck, trying to loosen my stiff muscles before giving it one more go.
I put my body weight into trying to loosen this annoyingly stubborn piece of metal so we can fix the brakes. Instead of the bolt coming loose, my hand slips off. My knuckles slam into sharp metal under the old car sending searing pain through my hand.
“Son of a bitch,” I hiss through gritted teeth, grabbing my clenched fist. The wrench hits the concrete floor of thegarage, clanging loudly. My brother rushes over from the other side of our family’s garage, joining me under the lift.
“You alright?”
I glare at Sly. “Does it look like I’m alright?”
I hold up my hand, turning it toward him. There’s a slow trickle of blood flowing out of at least two of my knuckles.
My younger brother lets out an exasperated sigh, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Shit. I’ll go grab the first aid kit, dumbass.”
I try to wave him off, but he ignores me and heads toward the back of the auto repair shop. A minute later, he’s back in front of me with a bottle of disinfectant and roll of bandages in hand.
“I know I’ve said this before, but you don’t have to be here all the time.” His eyes meet mine with an annoyed look.
“If I went back to the house and grabbed Dad, would he be able to fix those brakes?”
Sly huffs a laugh. “Fuck no. He would have pulled a muscle before he even got a wrench on that bolt.”
“Then I still need to be here to help.”