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Knowing how Trip feels about people knowing about his personal life, the dark look he shoots Jason doesn’t come as any surprise. “Yeah, he started last week. He was supposed to start months ago. And he’s doing alright. As good as you can be with this stuff.”
“Are Delmora’s Angels providing a nurse’s aid?” I lean forward.
“Yeah. Someone is around to help him most of the time. When they’re not, I am.” The gruffness in Trip’s voice tells me he’s uncomfortable with talking about this.
“That’s good, I’m glad he’s got the help and support,” Jason says, kicking his feet up on the dash. Trip reaches over and whacks his leg.
“Put your feet down. Grant will kill us both if he sees any scuffs up there.”
Jason sighs but does as he’s told. “You’re just as bad as he is.”
“No I’m not.”
“Yeah, you are.”
I grin, amused by their bickering. Leaning forward between the seats, I ask, “Do you mind if I take the truck and get a few things? I want to cook dinner tonight.”
Both Trip and Jason gasp.
“It will be a cold day in hell when we give you the keys to any of our vehicles, dollface,” Trip states. “We’ll go to the store after we stop at the shop.”
“She’s probably a better driver than you,” Jason grumbles.
“IknowI am,” I assure them both. “I’ve never left rubber on the road in my wake.”
“Are you seriously going to complain about my driving?” Trip demands incredulously.
“Yes,” Jason and I say in unison. We exchange looks with one another before falling into a fit of laughter.
“Great, one more person to bitch at me,” Trip mutters.
But despite his sour response, I watch as a smile tugs the sides of his mouth upward.
* * *
“Ok,seriously, how did you learn to cook this good?” Jason asks, coming up behind me as I click off the oven. He pulls the spatula out of the pocket in my leggings that I’d changed into an hour ago and throws it into the sink. Then he uses the kitchen towel and picks up the ceramic pan to carry it over the table. Once there, he bends over it and inhales.
“What is this? A crab cheese dip?” he asks.
“What? Oh, yeah. I put a ton of Old Bay on it, hope you don’t mind,” I mutter as I plate the four lobster tails.
Jason comes over and helps me carry them to the table. I turn, ready to grab the sliced bread and bowl of pasta salad. Jason beats me to it. He yanks both items out of my hand and stares down at me curiously.
“What?”
“Where’d you learn to cook?” he repeats.
I take a deep breath, trying to settle my scattered thoughts. Everything is pretty much ready to be eaten. I’ve timed everything perfectly, it all finished around the same time so dinner will be warm. Now we just need everyone here.
“My foster parents could cook a little, when they weren’t blacked out drunk and fighting.” I frown, shaking away those darker moments. “But I have Pianna’s mother to thank for the Mexican meals I can cook. She let me stay over alot,so while I was over there, she taught me how to cook. Then, I kind of just branched out, trying new things.”
Jason mimics my frown as his eyes search my face. “How long were you in the foster system?”
I ignore him while I make sure everything is turned off. “Where are Trip and Grant? I thought they would have been back by now?”
“They should be here any minute. I’m sure trying to pry Grant away from the team was a chore. Usually we’re both there either trying to help him escape or heading out to party with him. This is the first time we didn’t go to the game.”
“Escape?” I pick out the word curiously.
