Craving (Steel Brothers Saga #1)

I turned back around and took a bit of bite of my sandwich— “Shit!”


“Sorry. The cheese is going to be really hot. You might want to wait a few minutes before eating it.”

If only she had given me that warning ten seconds earlier. The skin on the roof of my mouth was bubbling. Once it cooled down though, and I took another bite, the sandwich was really good. Delicious, even. Had Felicia been home, she would’ve whipped up some enchiladas or tamales for me. She was an amazing cook, and not just her native food either. But damn… Even as I sat thinking of Felicia’s prime rib, a rack of lamb with rosemary and mint, her roast pheasant with cherry and walnut chutney…I swear to God, nothing tasted as good as that damned grilled cheddar and tomato sandwich that Jade had made for me.

A minute or two later, Jade sat back down at the table with her own sandwich. She pulled one of the pieces of bread up, and steam flew out from the melted cheese. “This helps cool it off,” she said.

I took another bite of mine and swallowed. “It’s really good.”

“Simple grilled cheese and tomato. Even better with a homemade tomato bisque.”

“Where did you learn how to cook?” I asked.

“I’d hardly call this cooking. I’m not Marj. But I do know how to make things other than grilled cheese. I told you that my mom left my dad and me when I was quite young. He’s not a bad cook, but he worked so much that I had to learn to do the cooking once I was old enough. I learned most of it from my grandmother, my dad’s mom, but she passed away by the time I was ten. I still had her old and worn-out Better Homes & Gardens cookbook. It’s not gourmet, but it’s good and edible.”

“Well, this is a really good sandwich. I never would’ve thought of putting tomato on it.”

“I actually came up with that one myself, although years later I found out that a lot of people like grilled cheese and tomato, which is why grilled cheese and tomato soup are so popular together.”

“It’s delicious.” Thank you. The words sat on the tip of my tongue. Why couldn’t I utter them? Jade had done something nice for me, and the sandwich truly was delicious. It had been so long since I’d said those words to anyone and meant them. Rather, I changed the subject. “What have you been doing today?”

“I drove over to the winery to talk to Ryan.”

A sharp pain stabbed me in my gut. Why the hell was she talking to Ryan? Ryan was known as the most jovial and best-looking Steel brother. The guy always had a smile on his face. No baggage for that one. Of course not. I had saved him that day.

“He’s going to give me some work over at the winery until I get my bar results.”

Thank God. So that’s all it was. Jade was interested in wine.

“What kind of work?”

“Nothing too exciting. Mostly helping Marion around the office with busy work. He did say he would train me to do tastings. I’m really excited about that opportunity.”

“Yeah, he opens up the winery for tastings all day on Friday and Saturdays. We get quite a good crowd there. He doesn’t charge for the tastings, but that doesn’t matter, because most people end up buying a case or two of wine.”

“Do you like wine?”

“I’m more of a bourbon or whiskey man myself. Peach Street is my favorite.”

“I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s made here in Colorado. It’s some smooth stuff, let me tell you. Colorado makes some amazing whiskeys. Breckenridge and Stranahan’s are two other great ones.”

“I’ll have to try them sometime. I’m not much into hard liquor, or beer, for that matter. My preference is wine when I drink at all. Which isn’t a lot.”

No longer scalding hot, the rest of my sandwich was amazing. The sharpness of the cheddar and sweet acidity of the tomato combined with the whole-wheat bread into a succulent delicacy. I opened my mouth to say again how delicious it was but decided against it. No sense beating a dead horse.

Jade finished her sandwich just as I took the last bite of mine. She stood, grabbed her plate and then mine, walked over to the sink, and ran water over them.

For an instant, I imagined we were husband and wife. She had made my lunch for me and picked up my plate. No one other than Felicia, or whoever the cook/housekeeper of the day was, had ever picked up after me. Not my mother, not my father, and certainly not my brothers or sister. Was I supposed to say thank you for that as well?

Why was it so hard? Usually I said thank you to Felicia. That was impersonal. It was a trained response. I took Felicia for granted. I knew I did. I pretty much took everything for granted.

Jade tussled around the kitchen, putting something in the microwave. “I’m making a cup of tea,” she said. “You want anything?”

There she went again. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why this was so amazing to me. “No thanks.” Although a cup of tea did sound good.

Helen Hardt's books