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Turning back to her, he rested his hands on the island, leaning into it. “You cook?” he asked.
“Do I cook?”
“Yeah.”
“Um, no. Not really.”
“What’s ‘not really’?”
“I know how to microwave stuff. Reheat take-out.”
“So, you’re telling me what you make for dinner is reservations, huh?” he teased.
She smiled. “Something like that.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Exactly like that.”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Well, I’m a shit cook. Frozen pizza is the extent of my culinary expertize. So you’re gonna learn.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m serious. Tomorrow’s dinner is on you.”
“Can’t I just order out something?”
“No, you can’t. I’m sick of take out. You’re gonna be here with nothing to do all day. Might as well cook something.”
“Are you serious?”
“Come on, all you gotta do is read a recipe, how hard can it be?”
She glanced around the room. “You got a copy of Cooking for Dummies stashed around here somewhere?”
He grinned. “Nope, but there’s this wonderful invention called the internet.”
She grinned back at his sarcasm. “LOL.”
He let out a laugh.
She drained the rest of her beer and set it on the island. He moved to the refrigerator, snagged another bottle, twisted the top off and set it in front of her, exchanging it for her empty.
“Thank you,” she whispered, remembering his comment back at the bar when she’d neglected to show manners.
“You’re welcome, Princess,” he replied, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. A few minutes later, he turned and pulled the pizza out of the oven and ran a pizza cutter across it several times. Then he slid the pan on the granite between them. “Dig in.”
He grabbed a slice and leaned back against the counter, eating it. Shannon picked up a slice and bit into it. It actually wasn’t that bad. They ate in silence. When they were finished, she watched as he got out a small plastic pail and held it under the icemaker, filling it about half way. Then he put it under the faucet and filled it with some water until the ice was floating. She frowned, wondering what on earth he was doing.
He reached into the fridge, hooked two beer bottles in the fingers of each hand and kicked the door shut with his foot. Then he jammed them into the ice-filled pail. Turning to her, he motioned with his head and said, “Grab your beer. Come on.”
She followed him up the metal stairs and out the door onto the side roof. The sun had gone down, but the sky still held the last traces of hazy blue light. Like he’d told her, she could see the lights of the cars crossing the Bay Bridge, looking like little sparkling crystals moving in a line. “Wow. It’s beautiful up here.”
“Um-hmm.” He motioned toward two low-slung Adirondack-style chairs that faced the view. “Have a seat.”
They both sat down, and he set the beer-filled pail between them. She grinned over at him, glancing down at the pail. “What more could a person want? A great view and ice-cold beer at the ready.”
He grinned back. “You got it, babe.”
