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Was this really happening? Was she really going to cook dinner for Dylan? It was just too bizarre. Thankfully, she already planned to make an actual meal tonight. Some nights she just threw together a sandwich for herself. Cooking for one could be a pain in the butt. However, earlier that morning, she’d taken the tomato sauce and meatballs she’d made the week before out of the freezer so she could make lasagna tonight. Lasagna with a side of meatballs was one of her favorite meals, and one that usually lasted for a few nights.
Setting her papers and laptop down on her bed, she wondered why he was really here. He’d said he was in Boston on business. Callie didn’t doubt that could be true, but Boston wasn’t exactly next-door. It took about forty minutes to get to her apartment from there.
Don’t look for lies. He has no reason to lie. He’s probably just being a gentleman again and checking to see how I am for Warren. Although, if that was the case, why hadn’t her father just called? Warren had her phone numbers and her email address.
No matter how she looked at it, Dylan’s sudden visit didn’t make a lot of sense. Could he be interested in her? The sudden crazy thought popped into her head. It would explain his unexpected visit. Was it possible?
“In your dreams maybe,” Callie whispered to herself. Now, go back out there, cook dinner, and enjoy another few hours in Dylan’s company. Taking a deep breath, she slowly exhaled. Just pretend you’re cooking for you and Lauren.
“What can I help with?” he asked when she returned.
“Do you know how to cook?” Callie immediately regretted asking the question. At least to her ears it sounded crass. It didn’t seem to faze Dylan though. He just shrugged and gave her a boyish smile that made him look more like a college student rather than the CEO of a major corporation.
“Only a little,” he acknowledged. “Basic stuff. Enough to survive without either eating out or getting takeout every night.”
She didn’t need any help. She could throw together lasagna in her sleep. However, if he had something to do, then maybe he wouldn’t focus on her. Since his arrival, her body had been on high alert, and having him just sitting there watching wouldn’t help.
“Umm, there is some stuff in the refrigerator for a salad.” Normally, Callie didn’t have anything but the meatballs with her lasagna. She didn’t need to. If it kept him busy, she was all for a salad tonight.
“Even I can handle that,” he said in his English accent which she loved. She could sit and listen to it all day in fact.
Did the kitchen shrink or has it always been this small? It seemed like every time she moved, she bumped into Dylan. He’d gathered the vegetables from the refrigerator and spread them out farther down the counter. Pausing in her own preparations, she watched him struggle to peel a cucumber. In addition to removing the skin, he was hacking the vegetable to death.
“You can leave the skin on, you know.” She reached for more pasta, so she could start another layer of the lasagna.
Pausing, he looked over at her. “I hate the skin. Can’t eat cucumbers if they have skin on them.”
“Do you want some help then? By the time you get done, there isn’t going to be anything left to eat.”
His hand was warm when he handed her the cucumber. The brief contact brought back memories of the brotherly kiss he’d given her. Though it had been innocent, she felt herself blushing.
“It’s all yours,” he said, starting to cut up a tomato.
Placing a steaming pan on the table, Callie went back to the counter and grabbed the meatballs. “It’s not a five-star meal, but I hope it is okay. Sorry I don’t have any wine to go with it. I’ve been meaning to pick some up, but haven’t gotten around to it.” C
allie knew she was a fairly good cook, but compared to the meals Dylan usually ate, she feared something would be lacking.
“It smells great,” Dylan assured her, pulling out a chair for her.
Just as surprised tonight as she had been the first time he did it, Callie sat without replying. Having anyone pull a chair out for her was such a foreign event; she didn’t know what to make of it. Leaning back, her bare shoulder brushed against his hand and tiny jolts of electricity danced across her skin. Moving away from him, she asked the first thing that came to mind. “Are you in Boston for long?”
“Don’t know for sure,” he replied, picking up the salad bowl and offering it to her first. “It’ll depend on how things go. Might only be a couple of days.”
Accepting the bowl, Callie was careful not to let her skin come in contact with his again. Her nerve endings just couldn’t handle it. Another reaction like the one she just had and she might short out some of the synapses in her brain.
Neither said anything else for several minutes as they focused on their meal.
“Warren mentioned you might visit his ranch this summer,” Dylan said, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you ever been to Texas?”
“No, the only places outside of New England I’ve been to are New York for a field trip and Florida.” She hated admitting that to someone like Dylan who’d traveled the world, but there was no point in lying.
Dylan helped himself to more salad. “I think you’ll like it. Warren is glad you’re thinking about visiting.”
Callie shrugged. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t sure she would ever make the trip.
“I’m glad your visit went well last weekend. What did you end up doing with your dog while you were gone?”
It seemed like an odd question. Why did he care what she’d done with Lucky? Perhaps he was just making conversation. “My friend, Lauren, came by to feed and walk him. He hates being boarded at a kennel.” Without elaborating further, she continued eating.
