Unsocial

by Dykes, Nicole

  He smiles, actually smiles. Wow, if it’s even possible, he is even more gorgeous when he genuinely smiles instead of giving the normal brooding face I’m used to. “Thanks, Brooke.”

  “You’re very welcome. I’ll see you Tuesday for our meeting and cooking lesson.”

  He runs his hand through his hair, “About that, you don’t have to give up your free time for us.”

  “I want to. First of all, I love to cook, so it’s no big deal, and second of all, it’s my job. I am going to do everything I can to turn the Monroes into the all-American family.”

  He grins again; I can get used to that look. “If you say so, see you then.”

  “I’ll text you what you need to shop for at the grocery store. Enjoy the rest of your week.”

  “Wait, there’s shopping?” he teases.

  “Absolutely. Do you need a lesson in that as well?”

  “Probably, just text me the list and I’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll do that. Enjoy the rest of your week, Dylan.”

  We say goodbye, and I drive back to the office to make it to my appointment just in time. I am feeling pretty good because I can tell I’m making real progress with Dylan Monroe.

  When Tuesday rolls around again, I feel excited, for the first time, about my weekly visit at the Monroe house. I ring the doorbell, and Dylan lets me inside, and I have to mention here, he’s smiling too. Even the kids seem to be in good moods. The first thing I plan on is getting straight to our weekly sit-down meeting to see what’s been going on, but decide to take a little more casual approach. Instead of heading to the dining room I take a seat on the floor in front of the coffee table. After I had left the office, I stopped by my apartment to change into jeans and t-shirt since I was going to be cooking tonight, and I want to be comfortable. After giving me curious looks, everyone finds places on the sectional and settles in. Cassie, of course, takes up residence on the carpet next to me. It’s a no-brainer that I start with her, I pretty much always start with her. “So, how did cheering at your first football game go?”

  I remember how happy Cassie’s texts were when she told me she would be getting to join the varsity cheerleaders at the high school games, and from the look on her face, she wasn’t disappointed by the experience. “Oh my God, it was so much fun! I love cheering. I love the crowds. Brooke, you have to watch me at the next home game. Please, please.”

  Experiencing an excited Cassie is way too infectious. I sneak a peek at Dylan because I really should get his approval before I commit to Cassie’s pleas, and see he’s still smiling. He gives just the smallest ascent of his head, so I turn to Cassie smiling and giving my promise to be at the next home game.

  The last time I was here, she seemed so upset and had taken me downstairs to speak in private. She hadn’t wanted to upset Dylan after she had been the one to push for getting a new house, and he had obviously done everything to make sure everyone got exactly what they wanted when they decorated their rooms. It had all just boiled down to her missing the home her parents had made for their family and having to process what it meant to move on without them. I simply told her that her parents would want her and her siblings to keep living and creating new memories and that where they did that didn’t matter as long as they were together as a family. I also assured her that I would do whatever it took to make sure it happened. I smile, “I’m so proud of you, Cassie, and I can’t wait to see you at the game. Just text me when it is. Are you still able to keep up in school okay?”

  “Of course. We have to keep our grades up to stay on the squad. And I’ll get you a schedule of all the games so you can come to as many as you can.” She’ll probably have me shaking pom-poms by the end of the season.

  “Sounds good, sweetie.”

  I turn to Michael, who went back to school yesterday following his three-day suspension, “How was school?”

  “Okay; no one messed with me.”

  I smile and notice a slight grin from Dylan, “Well good. I’m glad and don’t hesitate to tell someone if they do.” He nods.

  I take a breath and turn to Luke, “How was your first football game?”

  “Fine.” Still so much work with this one.

  “I want stats, man. I know you play wide receiver, so how many receptions, touchdowns, and yards are we talking.” I already know because I read the paper. I’m just trying to draw him out.

  Finally, he grins, “Two receptions and seventy-six yards. No touchdowns this week.”

  “That’s fantastic, Luke. When I watch Cassie, I’ll get to see you too, and I want a touchdown.”

  He nods, “We’ll see.”

  I turn to Gabby next then reach across the table to tickle her ribs. “How about you Gabby, school going okay?” She smiles slightly and smiles briefly. I wish I knew what to do for this little girl. I watch her silently get up and leave the room.

  Turning back to the others, “Alright guys, before I teach your brother how to cook an awesome meal of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, is there anything any of you needs to talk to me about?”

  After a round of “no’s,” they get up to go wherever it is they go.

  “Okay, well it sounds like everything is going great. Dylan, we can just catch up in the kitchen if that’s okay.”

  He nods and calls out to the kids, “You guys do your homework, I’m going to attempt to make dinner.”

  They all groan and look at me with worried faces before leaving the room. I call out to their backs, “Don’t worry so much, I’ll be supervising every step of the way. “I smile and head into the kitchen with Dylan following closely behind me, the smell of his cologne is attacking my senses, but I’m determined to remain professional.

  Behind us, I hear the small feet hurrying after us. It’s Gabby with a piece of paper which she holds out to me. I take it from her with a cheery “thank you” and look at the picture of the Monroes and their new house in the background. Dylan moves to my side and looks at the picture with me. It’s a breakthrough, a small one, but it’s one. I elbow Dylan softly in the ribs to get him to speak. “Gabby, this is wonderful. Don’t you think, Dylan?”

  He looks briefly at me before focusing back on his sister. “I’m so proud of you, sis. I’m going to hang it on the fridge, do you want to help me?” She squints at Dylan and me for a second before shaking her head before turning and heading back to her room. Dylan looks a little sad, so it’s time for me to lighten the mood. He needs to realize that even though it was small, it was something; so I tell him so and proceed to the kitchen.

  Dylan’s kitchen is simply beautiful. It’s a huge production with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances that make it the star of a chef’s wet dreams, and I cannot wait to get started with cooking lesson numero uno. “I love this kitchen.”

  I gaze at the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room. There’s no other word to describe this one structure, except to say, it’s divine. It’s big enough to seat at least ten people around it. I can see the Monroes gathering around for family dinners or huge holiday spreads with it full of food so everyone can fill their plates before heading to the dining table. Not that I have experience in anything like that, but I do have dreams of a large family and dinners and holidays. I find myself wishing for a big family of my own, just like this one. But now isn’t the time to dwell, I need to teach Dylan how to prepare meals for his family. It’s my job.

  Dylan grins pleased after turning from hanging Gabby’s picture, “Yeah, too bad it doesn’t get used.”

  “Well, we’re about to change that.” I pull a simple cookbook out of my purse. “Ta-da. I bought it yesterday, and the recipes are all very easy to follow and are all for beginners. Did you have time to pick up all of the ingredients?” I had sent him a text yesterday with a list of everything needed to make meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

  He nods and goes over to the fridge taking out ground beef, eggs, onions, and ketchup. Then grabs some crackers out of the pantry. “I think t
hat’s everything.”

  I smile, “Yep, and potatoes?”

  He picks up a bag of potatoes off of the floor. “Got them.”

  “Great. So you just need a big bowl and a pan.”

  I have to laugh when he pulls a box of never-before-opened pots and pans and another full of mixing bowls, baking dishes, and casseroles. I have to admit, I’m impressed when I see they’re from Food Network. Seriously, this man is killing me. He gets them out and sets them on the counter. “What, I didn’t know if I had what we needed to cook all this in, so I just went out and bought everything.”

  “Yeah, well I think you thoroughly covered it.” I wash my hands as well as what we’ll be needing to for this meal.

  “Here, you might want to wash these too.” I look at the counter beside the sink as he opens up another box full of kitchen utensils. Now I’m full on cracking up at this man.

  “You seriously went out and bought everything didn’t you?”

  “Hey, I told you I didn’t know if I had what we needed. I just wanted to make sure. And I figured you would like to break all this in. You did say you like to cook.” Okay, this seriously sobers me up. Dylan Monroe did something nice, for me? I’m feeling a little teary eyed here. Moving. On.

  “Okay, first things first. You need to wash your hands before starting.” He saunters over to me and grabs the soap over my shoulder. The contact of his arm on mine sends a tingle through me. Okay, Brooke, you’re acting like a teenager. I move and dry my hands on the towel by the sink as Dylan washes his hands.

  Moving to the island, I open the cookbook I brought with me. Dylan follows me over and stands at my back, and he’s standing close. I try not to let the feel of his front to my back affect me, but it so does. “Okay, so all you do is read this recipe and follow it closely.” I sound like a 13-year-old girl, all high voice and breathy. Geeze, I need to get a grip.

  “It doesn’t look that hard.” He’s reading over my shoulder.

  I give him a hip check, really to escape his proximity, which could prove dangerous for his wellbeing if he doesn’t move. “It’s not, trust me.”

  He smiles and reads the recipe, then grabs the hamburger to open it. He empties the container into the large mixing bowl and begins adding the other ingredients. “So I just mix all this together?”

  I smile, “Yep, with your hands.” I can tell he’s not thrilled about that part. “Just stick them in and go for it.”

  “Okay.” He puts his hands in and just pokes around.

  “Really? That’s how you are going to mix all of that stuff together? Put some of those muscles to work.”

  He grins a big, beautiful grin. “So you’ve noticed my muscles?”

  I smile and try like hell not to blush, “I’m not blind, Dylan. Now show me how you can use ‘em.”

  He starts kneading the mixture, his arm muscles flexing as he does. Focus Brooke, and not on his muscles. “See, it’s not that difficult.”

  “Where did you learn to cook?”

  “My grandma, she was old school, everything had to be from scratch.”

  “That’s cool. That’s pretty much how Sylvia was.”

  “Your step-mom?”

  He nods, “Yeah, she loved to cook and bake for us.”

  “It sounds like you were fond of her.”

  He pulls his hands out of the hamburger mixture. “Yeah, of course. She was a good mother to me. She didn’t treat me like her step-kid, she treated me like I was her own. Is that good enough, can I wash this shit off of my hands yet?”

  I smile, “Yeah, but you’ll want to put it into the pan first, and then you can wash your hands.” He does what I say and then walks over to the sink to wash his hands.

  “It sounds like she was an amazing woman.”

  “She was, she always put up with my shitty attitude and took it all in stride.” He was opening up to me. Maybe I had a shot at getting him to trust me. Slow and steady, I need to be careful not to push it too far, but this conversation is nice.

  He puts the meatloaf into the oven. Poor, poor boy. “Dylan, you need to take that back out and preheat the oven.” He turns and gives me a completely confused look. I take pity on him and show him how to set the temperature on the oven controls. “Alright, while it preheats we start on the potatoes. First we have to wash and peel them.” And he picks up the largest knife he has. “Have you ever peeled potatoes before?”

  “Nope, but this ought to do it, right?”

  I move to take away the knife and pick up the potato peeler handing it to him after another hip check. I should stop doing that. “Hey, I like the bigger knife better, and this thing isn’t even a knife.”

  “Trust me, you’ll be happy I showed you how to use this because you’ll get to keep all your fingers.”

  He laughs, “Yeah, I’ll definitely be thanking you for that, so show me how this works better than a big knife.”

  “Alright, you’ve got a lot of people to feed, so it’s going to take quite a few potatoes. You peel, and I’ll cube them for the water.” I grab the large stew pan and set it on the stove after filling it with water to boil while we work on the potatoes.

  He quickly masters the wonders of using a potato peeler, and I play it up like it’s the most wonderful accomplishment in the world. He laughs at my over-the-top praise of how smart and able he is in the kitchen while we stand at the sink and peeling potatoes together. “Alright, smartass, you’re the boss in the kitchen,” he concedes.

  “Damn right. My grandma was a hard task master.”

  After a beat of silence, he asks me, “How did you know that moving would be so upsetting?”

  I need him to trust me, so I try to be totally honest just like with the kids, “When my grandma passed away, I had to make the decision to sell her house. I wasn’t even living in it with her, but it was the house she raised me in, and it hurt like hell to see someone else buy it. I had to, though, because there was a lot of debt from her medical bills, and I was in school. I knew I couldn’t keep it, but I hated to let it go. It took a while to adjust even though I knew it had to be done. All I had to do was remind myself that I would always have the memories; those, at least, couldn’t be taken from me.”

  His face looks pained, “I’m sorry, that must have been hard.”

  “It was, but it was the right thing, just like you moving here. They all seem to be adjusting now, so it worked out. They’re young, and they’re going to bounce back from all this easier than you think. Even Gabby. You’ll be amazed.”

  “Yeah, it’s getting better. Cassie is finally excited. I just didn’t see her being upset over it; she was so excited to move.”

  “She’s a teenager; moods change quickly.”

  Our arms touch again, and his intense eyes meet mine briefly before Luke stomps in, “When is dinner, I’m starving.”

  I jump a little at his voice and turn around to look at him, “About an hour.”

  “Is it going to be any good? I just don’t see Dylan being able to cook.”

  “He’s doing fine, it’ll be delicious, you’ll see.”

  He shakes his head and walks out. Dylan finishes peeling the last potato, “Okay, now what?”

  I show him how to cut the potatoes into little pieces and put them into a pan to boil. While he does that, I grab the meatloaf and stick it in the oven before moving back over to help him finish. We make some small talk, but mostly stay quiet until I show him how to mash the potatoes. Finally, dinner is ready. Cassie walks in as Dylan is pulling the meatloaf out of the oven, “Hey that actually looks good.”

  He puts it on the stove, “Thanks, glad you have such faith in me.”

  She laughs, “I figured Brooke would be a good teacher.”

  I smile at Cassie, “I didn’t have to teach him that much. Do you cook?”

  “My mom tried to teach me a few times, but I wasn’t great at it. She was an awesome cook.”

  “I bet she was, it takes a little practice. I bet you and Dylan could l
earn together. Maybe take a cooking class.”

  They both laugh like that is insane, “What?”

  Cassie is still laughing a little, “I can’t picture Dylan in a cooking class.”

  He seconds that, “No way in hell.”

  I roll my eyes with a smile, “Why not? Will it hurt your tough guy image?”

  He nods, but can’t help but to smile also, “Yeah, I think it would.”

  Cassie laughs a little more, “Maybe we could make Jax go too.”

  “That’s a good idea, Cassie. Those cooking classes are great for friends and family who hang out together for dinners. I’ve always wanted to go to them.”

  “Oh yeah, he would love that, Cassie. What about Jax says ‘Betty Crocker’? I say we talk Brooke into going with us since it was her bright idea. I’m sure she would get way more out of it than he would.”

  I was not expecting that at all. I still haven’t met Jax, but the family seems to love him. I will have to remember to ask Dylan to introduce me soon so I can get to know him also. Dylan asks Cassie to set the table, and she gets some plates out of the cabinet. She continues the conversation, “You know I wouldn’t mind taking a class, though, I mean they say the quickest way to a guy’s heart is his stomach right?”

  Dylan looks frustrated, “You need to keep your head in the books and not worry so much about winning a guy’s hearts.”

  I nod in agreement, “Besides you should try to find a guy that cooks for you and not one that you have to cook for all the time.”

  “What guy cooks for a girl?”

  “The good ones that know you are worth it,” I respond to her question. She shakes her head, smiling, as she walks into the dining room to set the table.

  Dylan puts a spoon in the bowl of mashed potatoes. “That girl is going to be the death of me.”

  “She’s just curious; it’s totally normal. You were that age once.”

  “Yeah, I was. That’s what scares the shit out of me.”

  I laugh, “You’ll be fine. Looks like everything is finished, so I’m going to go.”