Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
“That’s not much of a confession,” I said dryly. “I admit this is the first time I’ve been interested in a woman you’re both attracted to. I give you credit for finding her and bringing her into our lives.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Leo chuckled and finished his beer.
I wanted to invite her over myself, but my brothers knew her better. I’d leave it to them to tell her she could use the kitchen however much she liked this weekend. Maybe it would help her out. I’d go to my office and stay out of her way. I was tempted to ask Noah to tell her that. But somehow I didn’t want to put all communications through my brother.
“Does it bother you that I said she could come over this weekend while you two are gone?” I asked Leo speculatively.
“No, why?” He asked.
Noah came back in from the kitchen with another beer. “She said thanks and she’ll text you about a convenient time. I gave her your number.”
I nodded.
“Hey, Noah, he asked if it bugged me that he was going to see Madison while we were out at the farm,” Leo said like it was a funny story. Noah shrugged.
“Why would it be a problem?”
“I know the two of you have never been jealous of each other. I just didn’t know if it extended to me,” I said frankly.
“You overthink everything,” Noah said. Leo nodded in agreement.
“You’re not wrong,” I said. But I admitted to myself that I was looking forward to seeing her, to having her cook in my kitchen and getting to know her better.
8
LEO
When I got to Ethan’s loft after work on Friday with two bags of Indian food, I was surprised to find Madison already there unpacking ingredients onto the counter. She had a cart full of stuff—pans, mixing bowls, what looked like two kinds of flour. I set the food down and helped her unload.
“Ethan has bowls. Did you think he wouldn’t have anything?” I laughed.
“I didn’t know what he had, and it was enough of a favor to let me use the oven. I don’t intend to use up his pantry staples or use his utensils and stuff.”
“Did you bring a mixer?”
“Yeah,” she said, not even sheepish about it. I lifted it out of the bottom of her cart. “This thing weighs like thirty pounds.”
“It’s a good mixer. I can get that. You don’t have to.”
“I wanted to help,” I said, hefting the appliance onto Ethan’s concrete countertop.
“This place is beautiful. It’s the best kitchen I’ve ever seen in anybody’s house. I can’t believe he doesn’t use it,” she said.
“You’ve met Ethan, right? Does he seem like he cooks big meals or hosts dinner parties?”
“I don’t know him that well,” she said and seemed a little shy about it.
“You’ll get to know him pretty quickly. He’s great at his job, but if it’s not architecture or his family, he doesn’t have much to say.”
“That’s demonstrably false,” Ethan’s voice came from the living room. “I have a lot to say about the Knicks.”
“That goes without saying,” I acknowledged.
“I thought you and Leo were going to work on the farmhouse this weekend?” She asked.
“We’ll head out in the morning. We usually try to have dinner together on Fridays if we can.”
“That’s really nice that you guys are so close.”
Madison put her eggs and butter in the refrigerator and turned to help me set out the Indian food. Noah gravitated toward the peppery scent of the meal. He set the table, and Ethan came in, talking on his phone. Soon the four of us gathered around the table and passed the containers, loading our plates. Noah tucked into the spicy vindaloo while Ethan piled his plate with chana masala and dal makhani. I watched Madison choose a samosa and then add a little taste of every dish to her plate.
“So good,” she muttered and tore off a piece of naan to go with it.
I ate my butter chicken and marveled at Noah’s ability to eat the scorching vindaloo and still carry on a conversation like a normal person.
“I still think you were a dragon in a past life. Only way to explain the fact that your esophagus hasn’t melted yet. You have some residual flame-retardant lining in your gullet or something,” Ethan remarked.
“Are you a vegetarian?” Madison asked him.
“Not at all. Why?” he asked.
“I just saw that you were eating the chickpeas and stuff instead of the lamb or chicken.”
“You’re observant,” he remarked. “I just like the chickpeas.”
“I don’t scare that easily. When I was in cooking school, we used to eat whatever was on sale at the taco truck after classes let out. If you’ve survived on discount day-old Mexican cooked in a literal van, you don’t have to worry about the after-effects of some perfectly good Indian food,” she said.