Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96805 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
In truth, he wasn’t really hungry. Just restless. Noah and Rowe had left a few minutes ago. Sven had to come pick them up because they’d had too much to drink. Snow and Jude had disappeared up the stairs, wrapped in each other, but from the random pounding on the walls, Hollis had begun to wonder if they were fighting. Ian just shook his head. Andrei and Lucas had slipped out to the balcony where they were wrapped up in a blanket on a huge lounge chair. He could guess what was happening under that blanket.
And Ian had walked away for another call with his restaurant manager to deal with some new catastrophe in the kitchen. He needed to be doing something…chasing down a lead or pounding some heads for information
A hand slid up his back to wrap around his shoulder, kneading the tight muscles under his shirt.
“You want me to make you something?” Ian whispered in his ear. His hot breath tickled, pushing aside frustration for a different kind of hunger. But he didn’t want to push. Ian was still recovering from the loss of Sam, and he’d spent most of his night arguing with his family.
“You did make me something,” Hollis said on a grunt. “Why didn’t we grab some of those casseroles?”
A light laugh jumped from Ian, making Hollis feel lighter. “Because with the food I didn’t cook, clothes, weapons, and dogs, there wasn’t enough room for the casseroles as well.” Ian moved to lean against the counter next to the refrigerator, his lips pulling into a frown. “We’ll have to go back out and clean out his refrigerator. I was looking forward to trying one of them. Had kale in it.”
“You put kale into a casserole?” One corner of Hollis’s mouth went up as he shook his head.
“Isn’t that the point of casseroles? You put lots of different ingredients into one pan and let the oven do its magic?”
“But kale?”
“I like kale. Potato, kale, and kielbasa. Rowe seemed to like it. But if that’s too weird for you, I can make a plain old tuna.”
“Tuna casserole?” Hollis rubbed his hands together. “Now we’re talking. Do you make it with egg noodles? And lots of cheese?”
“I will.” Ian straightened as he reached forward and took the fridge door out of Hollis’s hand closed it. “Your mom made it, I take it?”
“At least once a week. It was my favorite.”
Ian released a playful sigh, letting his shoulders droop. “I can see we’re not going to be food compatible. Such a shame.”
“Hey, I like all kinds of food.”
“What are some of your favorite non-casserole foods?”
“Anything Italian. Anything from Rialto. Isn’t lasagna like a casserole?” He winked. Stepping forward, he leaned his shoulder against the fridge, so all he could see was Ian. “Oysters.”
“Oh, I do have a wonderful recipe for an oyster casserole. No cheese in it, though it does have heavy cream, lemon, Worcestershire and more.” He twisted his lips. “And yeah, yeah, technically lasagna is a casserole.”
“I’d like to try that oyster one. Sounds good to me. Really good, in fact. Somehow, I doubt my mom would have made something like that. Hers always had several cans of cream of something soup.”
Ian shuddered. “For the record, I’m not a big fan of those soups. Have you ever looked at the sodium content? Mine has sherry, broth, butter, mushrooms, soy sauce, bread crumbs. A few other things, including cheese. So, still sodium, yes, but a healthier amount.”
“I didn’t realize you were such a stickler for healthy food. Most of the stuff I’ve eaten at Rialto tastes like fatty goodness.”
“Really? Really?” Ian growled. “Pretty sure I’m insulted beyond repair.” Ian moved like he was about to storm off, but Hollis wrapped his arm around his waist, pulling him back against his chest.
“Don’t be. Your casserole sounds awesome.” Hollis gently turned Ian in his arms so he could see the younger man’s skeptical expression. “Just so you know, when we’re back in our homes and back in regular jobs, I won’t expect you to always cook for us. I have a few tricks up my sleeves.”
Ian rubbed his hands over Hollis’s forearms, running his fingers up under the sleeves. “I’ve loved all your tricks so far, so what are your specialties?”
“Tacos. And boxed pasta that lets you add ground beef. Pretty much anything with ground meat that can be cooked from a frozen state. I’m all about convenience.”
Ian snorted. “Lucky for you, I love tacos. The other thing isn’t happening.”
“I can cook a mean breakfast, too. Old fashioned sausage gravy and even homemade biscuits.”
“Homemade biscuits?” Ian hummed his approval. “I may have to marry you.”
Hollis went still, his heart skipping a beat at Ian’s words.
“I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I don’t want—” Ian broke off, sucking in a deep breath. “I mean…eventually…I do want—” He stepped back, his face flushed bright red.