“Sure.”
“How do you take it?”
“Milk, no sugar. I know I’m early, but what time are Brice and Langston due here?”
“Shortly,” Jarred lied, taking a cup and saucer from the cupboard. “I’m gathering you found the place without a hitch.”
“Almost. I was turned around a little bit.”
“Oh yeah? Where’d you get turned around at?”
“Uh, Kingsbridge,” she muttered.
“Huh? Did you say Kingsbridge?”
“Yes.”
“Nevea, Kingsbridge is in the Bronx. I live in Brooklyn.”
“I know that now, Jarred,” she snickered.
Jarred didn’t know whether to laugh at her or hug her. He decided not to do either.
“You still got here pretty early considering you not too long ago spoke to Brice.”
“I was already on the road when I spoke to him again. He called me last night with the change of venue. I guessed he was checking up on me this morning.”
“Just how long have you been driving?” Jarred asked, handing her a cup of coffee.
“A few hours.”
“Why didn’t you have myself, Brice or Langston pick you up?”
“I mapped the directions out to the letter. I must have missed a turn somewhere.” Her brows furrowed as if she was in serious thought.
More like several turns. “Yes, that was probably it. You missed a turn somewhere,” Jarred said, and sipped his coffee to keep from laughing. “Are you hungry? I’m starved.”
“A little. I didn’t eat yet. Besides, this is supposed to be a brunch. Yet I don’t see or smell any food.”
“My fault. You can bring that cup into the kitchen and sit at the island while I put something together. Unless you want to help.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not much of a cook,” she said, following him into the kitchen.
“No worries. I got this. You like eggs, bacon, waffles, toast, sausages?”
“Yes, but not all at once.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll cook and you eat whatever it is you want. How’s that?”
“Sounds good to me. Shouldn’t we wait for Brice and Langston?”
“No,” he said, starting to take out the ingredients he needed.
Jarred worked effortlessly on their meal. When he was done, he placed all the dishes buffet-style on the island, and took out cutlery. “Have at it.”
“Wow, this looks great,” Nevealise said, and began to pile some of everything on her plate.
“Umm-hmm, it tastes good, too.” He smiled, then frowned when he looked at her plate. “Are you going to eat all of that?”
“I sure am. Brice and Langston better hurry up and get here or they aren’t going to have any food,” she said.
“Don’t worry about them. They aren’t coming,” he stated smoothly, before putting a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
“Wh-what do you mean, they aren’t coming?”
“I asked them not to because I wanted to spend some time alone with you. To get to know you better. As I said before, we started out on the wrong foot.” He shrugged. “Well, I didn’t tell them I wanted alone time with you, but that is what I wanted.”
“So you got me here on false pretenses? I don’t like being manipulated, Jarred,” she snapped, and stood up.
“You are not here on false pretenses. I plan to tell you everything that’s going on. I just wanted to get to know you better in the process. Finish eating your food. You have nothing to fear from me, Nevea.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Jarred. I’m annoyed with you for manipulating me. There’s a difference.”
Jarred watched Nevea intently as she moved food around on her plate with her fork, and then suddenly, as if she didn’t have a care in the world, start demolishing it. His eyes bulged when she added more food to the almost-empty plate.
“When’s the last time you ate?” he asked, his head bobbing to the rhythm of her fork going up and down.
“Sometime last night, I believe. No, wait—it was yesterday afternoon. I had a burrito and then some chips later on,” she said around a mouthful of food.
“Yesterday! You only ate a burrito and some chips the whole day?”
“Right. Mmm, this is so delicious.” She moaned and closed her eyes.
“Please, help yourself to everything that’s left,” he choked out. Her moans of delight caused a stirring in his loins.
“You know what would have been great with all of this?”
Watching her eat and listening to all the cooing sounds she was making turned him on. Nevea was eating as if she were in the throes of passion. “Sex,” he said under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
He looked into her eyes and feigned innocence. “What?”
“You were mumbling something and I couldn’t hear you,” Nevea said.
“I’m sorry. You asked what would have been great with breakfast and I asked what?” he lied.
“Homemade home fries!” she said excitedly. “I love them with onions and peppers. They’re to die for. My mom used to make them for me all the time.”
“When was the last time you saw your parents?” Jarred noticed that Nevealise went from relaxed and eagerly eating to tightening up like a bow in zero-point-three seconds. Obviously, her parents were a touchy subject. He would stay away from any parent talk for now. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“It’s been a little while. I talk to my mom on the phone all the time, and my brothers check up on me at least once a month,” she said with a half smile.
Her father. There was no mention of her being in contact with him. Jarred would leave that alone for now, as well. Instead, he stood up to take his dish to the sink.
“You want me to help?” she asked.
“Are you finished eating?” He raised his eyebrows and a smile curled his lips.
“I did eat a lot, didn’t I?” She returned his smile.
“I would say you did. Yes.” He chuckled. “No worries. I’m just happy you enjoyed the food.”
“I’ll help clean up.” She got up from the bar stool and walked over to the sink.
“Cool. We can put everything in the dishwasher.”
They worked side by side, with Jarred rinsing the plates and Nevealise loading the machine. He chuckled to himself. It was clear that Nevea was totally clueless in the kitchen, judging by the lost look on her face. And the fact that she was taking her cues from him. She would watch what he did and then mimic his actions. Well, she did say that she didn’t know how to cook. How in the world did she manage on her own?
“There. All done,” Jarred said. His cell phone buzzed on the counter just then. “Excuse me,” he said, and rushed over to answer it. Looking down at the caller ID, he groaned inwardly. Langston. No doubt Brice had called him. Bad timing, brothers.
“Yes,” Jarred all but snarled into the receiver.
“Whoa!