“Yeah. I thought I’d take a chance on you coming home hungry. I got off work, and I drove past the supermarket and felt inspired.”
I took the flowers and unlocked my door. “What’s on the menu?”
“Salad, scalloped potatoes, and lamb chops. You’re going to be in charge of the scalloped potatoes.”
“I’m not wearing the apron.”
“Too bad.” He unpacked the bags and set everything out on the counter. “You’re not living up to the fantasy.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“Twirlers had reputations,” Dave said.
“What kind of reputations?”
“Good with a baton.”
Oh God, I could just feel the rhino hanging over me.
“Here’s the deal,” I told him. “I have two men in my life who carry guns. You don’t want to make them angry. You can cook but you can’t flirt. No double entendres. No more staring at my chest. No twirler fantasies.”
“I’m not giving up the twirler fantasies,” Dave said, “but I’ll substitute Alberta Zaremba for you.” He searched around and came up with the cutting board. “I’m going to fix the lamb chops. You can peel the potatoes and cut them into slices about an eighth of an inch thick.”
When I was almost done cutting, and he looked over my shoulder to check my progress.
“Perfect,” he said. “It’s too bad we didn’t know each other better when we were in high school.”
He was way too close. I could feel his breath on my neck, and the brush of his chest against my back when he leaned in.
“You’re too close,” I said. “Remember the men with the guns?”
He took a step back, and I cut the last slice. “Now what? Do I put them in the casserole dish?”
“Yes, but you need to butter it first.”
He took a stick of butter from the fridge and put it on the counter. He added butter, milk, and already-shredded Swiss cheese.
“Butter the dish, layer the potatoes, dot with small chunks of butter, sprinkle with the shredded cheese, and add another layer,” he said.
“Okeydokey.”
I sprinkled the last of the cheese on the potatoes and stood back to admire my work, thinking it looked pretty darn good.
“What’s next?” I asked him.
He took a beat to answer. “Milk.”
Thank goodness. For a single irrational moment I was afraid he was going to tear my clothes off. And I might have a hard time defending myself. He had height and weight on me, and he wasn’t in great shape, but he wasn’t in terrible shape either.
He added milk to the potatoes and slid the dish into the oven. “I have the salad and lamb chops ready to go. The only thing left is the wine.”
“What do we do with the wine?”
“We drink it until the potatoes are done.”
I accepted a glass of wine, and the lock tumbled on the front door. There were only two people besides me who could unlock my door. Morelli had a key. And Ranger had skills normal law-abiding citizens didn’t usually possess. I knew it was Morelli because I could hear Bob panting on the other side of the door.
The door opened, and Bob rushed in, stopped short of Dave, and did his happy dance. Bob loved everyone. Especially people with food in their hand.