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Because he knew me.
"Hi, Brandee," he said. He didn't smile but his voice was light, casual. "I won't be needing anything, but thanks anyway."
She pouted, looking genuinely crushed. Her sulky lower lip seemed completely unfeigned. "Really? Not anything? Did you hear my list? I give a killer massage."
"No, thank you. I have a girlfriend, if you didn't notice."
She barely spared me a glance. "It's not like that. It doesn't have to be girlfriend stuff. This is just pom-pom girl stuff. You know, the stuff you need on game days."
Whore, I thought at her.
As though sensing my thoughts, Dante squeezed my shoulder firmly. "No, thank you," he said again, voice slightly less polite than the time before.
She flushed, biting her lip. It was degrading enough that she wanted to wait on him, but the fact that she had to ask him for it had to be a tough pill even for an empty-headed pom-pom girl to swallow. "You don't even need me to clean your uniform for you?"
"Nope. I don't. You're off the hook."
She didn't look happy about that. "What about food? What's your favorite? I'm a great cook."
"I'm all set on food too. I'll make it real easy on you—I don't need anything at all."
She was persistent, I'd give her that. "Not even sweets? You didn't like the cookies?"
That made him hesitate and look down at the plate of cookies he'd clearly been enjoying. "They were great, but you don't need to make me anymore."
"You really thought they were great?" she beamed, flirting right in fucking front of me.
Dante's arm squeezed me tighter. "Yeah, they were great, so thanks, but like I said, I don't need anything else."
She was smiling like she'd gotten what she wanted. "Wait until you try my cupcakes. And my muffins are to die for. Just you wait. I won't disappoint you."
She flounced off.
Dante held me back from going after her.
"What a little whore," I grumbled at her back.
"Stop. C'mon. She's not worth it. Calm down."
I shrugged his arm off and he let me. I glared at him, then at the plate of cookies he still held in his free hand. I knew that he was going to keep eating them. He'd basically been a human garbage disposal for food since we were twelve. He ate everything.
But he seemed particularly keen on these cookies.
I grabbed one, taking a bite. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.
And it was good. Peanut butter, with just the right amount of crunch and chew. I wasn't even a big fan of cookies, but little miss pom-pom's were pretty awesome.
Dante grinned at the look on my face. "She can bake. You have to give her that."
I didn't want to, and I hated the way he said it, like he admired the skill.
I decided right then and there that I would learn how to bake, for the simple reason that I could not stand the thought that Dante might have a need I couldn't fulfill myself.
For a solid month I spent more time with Gram's housekeeper, Mrs. Stewart, than I did with Dante. It drove him crazy, which I saw as icing on the cake. Kind of literally.
Mrs. Stewart was nice and happy to teach. She'd been a trained pastry chef once, but rarely got to practice the skill as Gram liked sweets even less than I did. In fact, she called them evil. I figured it was damage from her Hollywood days, when keeping her figure on point was part of her job.
Mrs. Stewart patiently taught me how to make just about every kind of cookie I could think of, cake, pie, muffins, cream puffs, crème brûlée, chocolate mousse.
