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“You want some more water?” I asked, nodding at her empty glass on the coffee table. “Got to keep you hydrated.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sure, so I can pee evenmoreoften. As if every five minutes isn’t enough.”
Laughing, I snagged Erin’s glass and my own off the table.
“Need any help with dinner?” Erin asked Tess, following me to the kitchen.
“Nope. I’ve got it under control.” She was melting butter in a large skillet, a plate of thin chicken breasts on the counter beside her. She didn’t turn around when I passed behind her on my way to the fridge.
After I’d refilled Erin’s water, I got out another bottle of white wine and grabbed the corkscrew from the drawer by the refrigerator.
Erin slid onto a barstool at the island as she watched me open the wine. “You do that like a pro.”
“That’s because he is one.” Tess threw a sidelong glance at me. Our eyes met, and her lips crooked before she turned her attention back to the stove. “He used to work in a bar.”
“I was just a barback.” I shrugged as I refilled Tess’s wineglass. “But I learned a few tricks from the bartenders while I was there.”
“He makes a mean Manhattan,” Tess said over the sizzling of the skillet as the kitchen filled with the scent of sautéing onions and garlic. “It’s a shame I don’t have any vermouth or bitters.”
My lips automatically twitched into a smile at the memory of the night I’d made us Manhattans. “You don’t have the right kind of whiskey either. You need bourbon or rye, and all you have is Irish whiskey.”
“I don’t see why you couldn’t make a Manhattan with Irish whiskey.” Tess cocked her head as she stirred angel hair pasta into boiling water. “I’ll bet it’d be damned good.”
“I’ve never had a Manhattan.” Erin’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not really a fan of whiskey, to be honest.”
“That’s probably just as well,” I said as I topped up my own wineglass. “There are more than a few poor souls in the Larkin family tree who fell down a bottle of Jemmy and never came out.”
Erin frowned in confusion. “Jemmy?”
“Jameson,” I explained. “The most common Irish whiskey brand.”
“Emphasis on the common,” Tess piped up from the stove.
“You’re such a whiskey snob.” I smiled, liking the way this felt. The three of us standing around Tess’s kitchen talking, getting ready to sit down and have a meal together. Funny how something this mundane and simple could feel so special.
“Can you pass me the wine?” Tess asked. “I need some for the chicken.”
As I handed her the bottle, I moved her glass where she could reach it more easily.
“Thanks.” She threw me a small smile as she poured wine into the hot pan, sending up a giant cloud of steam.
“Sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked, leaning my hip against the counter next to her. “You’re aware alcohol is flammable, right?”
“Fuck off,” she muttered, directing a glare in my direction. “I told you I’ve got this.”
I met her glare with a smirk. “When’s the last time you changed the batteries in your smoke detector?”
“It was one minor baking mishap.” The corner of her mouth quirked as she shook her head. “You’re never going to let me live it down, are you?”
“I thought she was going to burn the building down,” I explained to Erin, who was watching our banter with interest.
“He doesn’t believe I can cook.” Tess picked up her wineglass, taking a sip as she gently stirred the sauce. “Because I burned one batch of cookies.”
I had to admit, she seemed to know what she was doing at the stove. Color me impressed. I’d be more surprised if this wasn’t Tess we were talking about. I’d never known her to be bad at any task she set her mind to, which was why the cookie incident was so much fun to tease her about. “It was a lot of smoke, Tess. I thought I was going to have to run over here and save you from a raging inferno.”
“That’s right,” Erin said. “Tess mentioned you guys live near each other.”
I nodded as I sipped my wine. “I’m only six blocks away. Funny that we never knew it until a few weeks ago. I’ll bet we used to pass by each other all the time without even noticing.”
