Page 51 of Twisted Beauty

“My grandmother. She was the only one who seemed to really get me, so I wanted to be around her all the time. And since she was always in the kitchen, I was always in the kitchen. She taught me to cook traditional Mexican food, with her own personal flair. Mostly she visited us in California, but there were a few times I got to come here with my dad.” He finished off his coffee.

“You didn’t go to school for this?”

“I did. Eventually,” he said. “After college I went to the Culinary Institute of America.”

“I’ve heard of it. The one in Napa?”

“That’s the one.”

That place was famous. No wonder he was such a good cook. “Your grandma must have been so proud. Why do you say she’s the only one who got you?” As soon as she asked, Liv wondered if she’d awaken the green beast within by being too nosy. “Sorry if that’s too personal. You don’t have to answer.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just that my grandmother…Lita, that’s what we called her. Lita was proud of me no matter what. And she always made sure I felt loved and accepted.” He said it as if he didn’t get much of that from anyone else.

Liv stayed silent and waited to see if he’d continue.

“Back then, my dad had these crazy plans for me to become a pro-football player when I grew up. Not American football, soccer. I was good, but I hated it. He wanted me out practicing every day, when all I wanted to do was play Rogue Squadron with my friends. It was always a battle.”

“Except when you were in the kitchen with Lita,” Liv said. “Is Lita a nickname for Grandma? As in Maria Rosa? Tito’s wife?”

Matt furrowed his brow. “How the hell do you know that?”

Liv raised her hands. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. Tito showed me pictures of her yesterday. Before you came into the shop with lunch.”

The corners of Matt’s lips twitched. “I assure you, my panties are just fine.” He paused, looking lost in thought for a moment. “Tito’s had a rough time without her these past few years.”

“Looks like he’s not the only one.”

Matt got up from the table, grabbed the empty plates and headed for the sink. In other words, she’d touched on something that was not open for discussion.

“Why don’t you let me wash those?” Liv jumped up from her chair and polished off the last sip of her coffee on her way to the sink. “You cooked.”

“That’s what dishwashers are for. You wanted to incinerate the condo with my new espresso machine, remember? Give it your best shot.”

Liv glanced out the window, but all she could see was an endless sheet of water cascading down the glass. “I’d need a blow torch to light anything on fire in this storm.”

“I may have one in the storage closet.”

Liv smiled at his joke but he wasn’t looking at her, he was focused on loading the dishwasher. She took a moment to appreciate the way his shirt stretched across those muscular shoulders as he moved. He glanced behind him and caught her staring. “Did you need something else to get started?”

She gestured to the espresso maker with her chin. “You’ve never used it, right? It can’t be clean.”

“Good point.” He reached past her with dripping hands, dismantled it, and began washing every piece with sudsy water. It was quite the show. She should have insisted he remove his shirt first. “All done.”

He dried his hands and dished out another wedge of frittata from what was left in the pan. Wow, he had a big appetite.

“Still hungry?” Liv asked.

Matt laughed. “I seem to remember making you a promise. A plate to photograph?”

“Right.” She stopped herself from calling him sweet just in time. She busied herself with the espresso machine, realizing it was similar to the one Grant had in his house.

Shit. Just the thought of mornings with her ex made her feel a little prickly.

Of course, Grant had bought himself one of the most expensive, complicated machines on the market. That was Grant Connelly for you. Image over function. Status over practicality. In the end though, she was the only one who learned how to operate the stupid thing. It was probably sitting unused now, and the idea of him suffering with a caffeine headache every morning lifted her spirits.

Within minutes, she had Matt’s machine figured out. She set the beans to grind and began frothing milk she’d found in the refrigerator.

“Not bad,” Matt said as he placed two rounded mugs beside her. “And the walls aren’t even singed.”