"For dinner. What are you making?" He's trying to hide his grin.
"You're saying I'm supposed to make you dinner?" I gape at him, shocked that he would just assume I'd cook for him.
"It's your turn. I made dinner last night."
"You didn't make dinner. You ordered a pizza."
"Then I'll cook for you tomorrow night. There's a grill in the garage but I have to get some charcoal."
Lou drops off Nash's pie, then continues on to deliver pie to a man sitting a few seats down.
"Thanks, Lou," Nash calls out. Lou nods at him and Nash picks up his fork and digs into the pie.
"I am not making you dinner," I say.
"It doesn't have to be anything fancy. Just throw a frozen meal in the microwave. I'll need at least two. I eat a lot." He gets his wallet out and sees it only contains a few dollars. "I forgot to give you the rest of the money I owe you. There's an ATM on the street. I'll get it when we're done."
"Forget the money." I turn to him. "If you want a frozen meal, just make it yourself. You have a microwave that works."
"It's in the garage. I tore my kitchen up. I can't use it. And I didn't say I wanted a frozen meal. I just thought that'd be easier for someone who doesn't know how to cook."
"Excuse me, but I know how to cook."
"So show me." A sly grin appears. He said that on purpose because he knows I don't like being told I can't do something.
"Fine. I'll make dinner but it's not going to be anything fancy. Spaghetti and maybe some cheesy bread. That's it."
"No meatballs?" He chuckles. "I need meat, Callie."
I whack his arm. "Spaghetti. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it. But tomorrow we're having steaks. Big meaty t-bones."
"I'm not having dinner with you tomorrow. Tonight's the last night."
"We'll see about that." He takes the last bite of his pie.
"It's not happening. You have to learn to eat alone."
"Once you smell those steaks cooking on the grill, you won't be able to help yourself. You'll be right over."
I give up arguing with him. There's no point. He's relentless. I just won't show up tomorrow and then he'll see that he's wrong.
"I should get going." He stands up, putting his hand on my lower back and leaning toward me. "Have a good day. I'll see you tonight." On his way out, he waves at Lou. "See ya, Lou."
Lou appears across the counter from me. "I like him. Seems like a nice guy."
"He's making me make him dinner tonight. That's not exactly nice."
"You used to like to cook." Sometimes I hate that Lou knows these things about me. I'd prefer that no one knew anything about me. That was one of the reasons I decided to live here. Almost no one here knows me or knows my story.
"Well, I don't cook anymore, and I especially don't like being told I have to cook."
"Then just order something in." Lou sets our plates under the counter and wipes it with a rag. "He said you two had pizza last night."
"When did he tell you that?"
"While you were in the back, primping for your date."
I sigh. "Okay, first of all, it was not a date. And second, I was not primping. You told me I had frosting in my hair, which was not true, by the way."
"So what are you making him?" Lou picks my glass up, wiping the area under it, then setting it down again.
"Spaghetti and cheesy bread."
"Come on, Callie. You can do better than that."
He's right. I can. I used to make some really good stuff. For a while, I was obsessed with cooking shows and had to try everything I saw them make on those shows.
"I told you, I don't cook anymore. And I'm not going to go to all that effort for him. I don't even want to do this. He's getting spaghetti and cheesy bread. That's good enough."
"You know what they say. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach."
"They said that in 1950, Lou. These days, that's not the way to get a man. And for the record, I'm not trying to get Nash's heart. He's just my neighbor."
"Then if you insist on making spaghetti and bread, don't be adding any garlic." He chuckles to himself.
I roll my eyes. "There will not be any kissing going on. In fact, I'll be adding extra garlic just in case he gets any ideas."
He motions to the kitchen. "Get back to work. You need to get out of here on time so you have plenty of time to get ready for your date."
"Yeah, you're hilarious." I take my drink and go back to the kitchen.
After work, I stop at the grocery store, which I never do during the week, but I didn't have any canned tomatoes to make the sauce. I always make my own sauce. It's so much better than the prepared stuff. In addition to the tomatoes, I also buy a loaf of Italian bread and some parmesan cheese.