Tucker turned in his chair to face Flynn. “No shit.”
“Thinking about it.”
“I had no idea you were even interested in doing something like that. And why?”
Flynn shrugged. “I like food.”
Tucker laughed. “Come on. No bullshit.”
Flynn leaned forward in his chair, rolling the can of beer around in his hands. “It’s something I’ve been toying with for a while now. San Francisco extended my contract and considers me a franchise player. I’m staying put there, and I want to put my signature on the place. Plus, I seriously like food. And I can cook, assholes.”
“But you wouldn’t be the chef there or anything,” Barrett said.
“Of course not, dipshit. You hire an experienced chef to run your restaurant. But it’s a way for me to stay connected to the city.”
Tucker was impressed, though he shouldn’t be. As the oldest Cassidy, Flynn had always had the smarts, the leadership ability and the ambition to do anything he wanted in life. That he also loved football had been an added bonus for the family.
“Do you need investors?” Tucker asked. “If you do, hit me up. I might be interested.”
“Thanks. I’ll let you know.”
Tucker stood. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting hungry. I’m going to head inside to help Aubry with dinner.”
Flynn got up. “Let’s all go help.”
“You can all cook,” Barrett said. “I’ll put myself in charge of drinks.”
“Taking on the hard tasks again?” Tucker asked as they walked inside.
“You know me. Always willing to fall on the grenade.”
Tucker shook his head and followed his brothers inside.
DINNER WAS A ROUSING SUCCESS, THOUGH AUBRY knew she and Tucker couldn’t take all the credit. Flynn had pitched in, and despite Tucker giving his brother a hard time, she had to admit Flynn knew his way around a kitchen. He’d decided to put himself in charge of the grilled vegetables. She’d handed them over to him, and he’d sliced them, seasoned them and prepared them with meticulousness, then baked them until they were a golden, crisp perfection.
She leaned against the counter, watching in awe.
“How did you learn to do that?”
He shrugged. “Our mom is a great cook, so you sit around talking with her enough, you pick up a few things. Plus, I’m a big fan of food and I hate takeout. So I’ve practiced at home.”
“I’d say you know what you’re doing.”
He looked out the window where Tucker was busy with the grill, Barrett talking to him. “Don’t tell my brothers. I have a reputation as a badass.”
She laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.”
She’d prepared the seasoned potatoes, and those were ready just as Tucker came in with the grilled salmon. She’d also tried her hand at the topping sauce for the salmon, a honey mustard glaze that she hoped was as good as it sounded.
It had been a very unusual experience to say the least. She’d fully expected Tucker and his brothers to sit in the living room, drink beer and talk or watch sports, or possibly hang out outside. Despite Tucker’s intention to assist her with this meal, she’d figured he’d want to catch up with his brothers, and she wouldn’t have minded cooking by herself.
What she hadn’t expected was for all of them to roll up their sleeves and help her. Tucker handled grilling the salmon, and Barrett had washed all the prep dishes.
It was definitely a team effort.
She opened another bottle of wine and set it on the dining room table to let it breathe while they laid the food out and set the table.
Barrett was the one who held her chair out for her. She turned to him and smiled. “Thanks.”
“It’s the least I can do for the beautiful woman who made this amazing meal for me.”
“Quit hitting on my girlfriend, Barrett,” Tucker said, nudging his brother aside to sit next to Aubry.
Tucker had called her his girlfriend. In front of his brothers. That was fairly monumental, especially for a guy. Aubry was touched by his display.
“Thank you all so much for the help,” she said. “I hope you enjoy the meal.”
“It looks great, and smells even better,” Flynn said. “I know it’s going to be good.”
“Enough talking,” Barrett said, lifting his fork. “Let’s eat.”
They poured wine, and ate. Aubry took a bite of the salmon, which melted on her tongue.
“This turned out perfectly, Tucker,” she said. “Just the right amount of grill time.”
“It is pretty good,” Flynn said. “I like the sauce, too. Is that honey in there?”
Aubry nodded. “It’s a pretty simple glaze, with white wine, balsamic vinegar, honey, Dijon mustard and garlic.”
Flynn nodded. “It’s great. For a little different flavor, you might try marinating your salmon in soy sauce, brown sugar, bourbon and ginger. Add a little lime juice and some garlic, and just a touch of black pepper. It’s tangy and really damn good.”
Aubry’s eyes widened. “That sounds delicious.”