Chapter 9
Maniac
“Stop it.”
“I can’t stop.”
Wren grabbed the bowl and wagged her finger at me. “If you keep eating the frosting, then there won’t be any for the cake.”
I licked my finger and shrugged. “I really doubt cake is going to make that frosting taste any better. That shit is like heaven.”
If you would have told me I would have spent the afternoon with Wren on the back of my bike and dinner barefoot in the kitchen with her, I never would have believed you.
“Just you wait.” She stuck the bowl of frosting in the microwave and crossed her arms over her chest. “No more icing until after dinner.”
“You think putting it in the microwave is going to stop me from eating it?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I’m hoping the stuffed peppers are going to distract you long enough for me to ice the cake with what little frosting you left me.”
I splayed my arms out in front of me. “I see no peppers to distract me.”
Wren turned and looked at the stove. She held up her hand, then pointed one finger when the oven timer started beeping. “Peppers coming up in one minute.”
“You sure we can’t have cake for dinner?” When I say the frosting Wren had made was good, I meant it was fucking good.
She grabbed a plate from the counter and scooped two huge peppers onto it. She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled. “Is two enough?”
“I gotta save room for cake, darlin’, so two is going to be more than enough.”
She turned back to the stove and grabbed two pieces of garlic bread she had taken out of the oven five minutes earlier. She held the plate out to me and pointed to the table. “Sit down. Eat.”
I grabbed the plate, and the warm, delicious aroma wafted up to my nose. Maybe eating stuffed peppers before the cake wasn’t going to be that bad. I sat down at the table and tucked into the mountain of food on my plate. “You eating?” I asked around a mouthful of pepper.
She leaned against the counter with a plate of food in front of her. “I plan on eating while I frost the cake.” She scooped a forkful into her mouth and smiled.
“You ever cook something that isn’t delicious?”
She set down her plate and pressed her hand against the cake she had cooling on the side of the stove. “Oh yeah. It took me a bit to figure out how to get it right. I can still smell the burning rice when I tried to make Rice-a-Roni for the first time.”
“You burned Rice-a-Roni?” I laughed.
She nodded and smiled. “Burnt it black. I put the rice on to toast like the directions had said, but I missed the part where it said I need to keep stirring it. I sat down on the couch for two minutes and happened to fall asleep. I woke up to the smoke alarm going crazy and the next door neighbor banging on my front door.”
I busted out laughing. “How old were you when that happened?”
“Thirteen. My mom was so mad when she came home and saw the fire trucks surrounding the apartment.”
“Trying to burn the place down,” I tsked.
She flipped me off and grabbed the frosting from the microwave. “Keep it up, and I’ll keep this chocolate cake all to myself.”
I watched as she turned one of the cakes onto a plate and slathered the top of it with frosting. She placed the other layer on top, then dumped the rest of the icing over the whole cake. She grabbed a spatula out of the drawer and managed to cover the whole cake in the sweet chocolatey goodness.
By the time I finished all of my food and drained the rest of my beer, she was sprinkling some colorful sprinkles on top. “There,” she said proudly. She stepped back and looked over at me. “What do you think?”
“I think in about half an hour, half of that beast is going to be on my plate.”
She rolled her eyes and dropped the dirty spatula into the sink. “You’re crazy. You eat half of this, and you won’t sleep for three days. It’s loaded with sugar.”
“That’s what makes it delicious.” I grabbed my plate and dumped it into the sink. “Those peppers were fucking amazing, darlin’.”
She leaned against the counter and picked up her plate. “Thanks. They’re a favorite of mine.” Four bites, and she had her plate cleared. “They’ll be great as leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”
“If I don’t eat them in the middle of the night.” I grabbed her empty plate and placed it on top of mine. “You wanna watch a movie, or sit out on the porch?”
She bit her lip. “What movie? I think we’ve watched them all ten times.”
“Or watch something on TV.” It was quarter to nine, and I figured there had to be something on TV on a Thursday night.
“We can sit on the porch until the bugs try to carry us away.”
I nodded. “You want a glass of wine?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I don’t know if I want to get tipsy twice in one day.”
I grabbed the bottle of wine she had chilling in the fridge and a beer. “As long as you just stay tipsy, you’ll be good.” She was right. Tipsy was cute. Especially when she was the one being tipsy.
“One glass of wine, and we come in to watch Dateline if the bugs are bad.”
“Sounds like a deal to me. Grab a glass and meet me out on the swing.”
She nodded, and I made my way out to the porch.
It was time to get Wren talking.
*