Page 80 of Single Malt Drama
“Yes, yes.” I hurried into the kitchen, wrapped his breakfast in foil, and filled a travel mug with coffee.
He shoved the food into his briefcase, took the cup, and kissed me on the mouth hard enough to leave me swooning. “You’re a goddess, but I’m late.”
“Go.” I swatted his ass for good measure.
Marco grinned. “Thanks for keeping her out of trouble today, Hildie.”
She arched a brow. “Looks to me like she’s the one keeping you on the straight and narrow.”
Chuckling, he finally left the cabin.
I settled into my chair, took a bite of my ice-cold eggs, and forced them down.
“You’re good for him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy.” She met my gaze. “Truly happy, not just pretending to be.”
“Thank you.” It meant a lot coming from someone who’d known him his entire life. “There isn’t much to do out here, but I would love it if you’d teach me some cooking basics. Marco hasn’t let me near the kitchen since the lasagna incident.”
She furrowed her brows.
“I didn’t realize there was plastic wrap beneath the foil.”
Hildie grinned. “That’s to keep it from getting freezer burn.”
“Freezer burn?” Is that another odd American idiom?
“When air comes in contact with the food in the freezer, it can make it taste bad.” She tilted her head. “I don’t suppose you had too much experience in the kitchen growing up?”
“None.” I sighed. “I’m the youngest in my family. By the time I was born, my brothers had made such nuisances of themselves, the staff threatened to quit if my father didn’t forbid children from entering the kitchen.”
Hildie threw her head back and laughed. “I should have done the same with the Marchionni boys. Instead I put them to work when they got underfoot. Needless to say, they learned right quick to stay out of my way.”
“You did them a favor by teaching them how to take care of themselves. Before I came here, I’d never washed a dish.”
She stared for so long that my cheeks heated. “Don’t be embarrassed. You can’t help the way you were raised. All you can do is learn now, and make sure you do right by your own kids.”
Marco and I had spent the previous eight weeks christening every surface of the cabin. If the changes to my body were any indication, practice did make perfect. However, I hadn’t shared my suspicions with him yet.
“How was it raising six boys?” I stood and cleared away our dishes.
Laughing, she joined me at the sink. “A circus, but I wouldn’t change a minute of it.”
“Marco and I both want a big family.”
She gave me a knowing look. “I’d say you’re young and there’s plenty of time for that, but I suspect I’d be too late.”
Rather than fib, I smiled and got to work. With Hildie washing, and me rinsing, we had the kitchen gleaming in no time.
“What do you two do out here to pass the time?” She seemed to realize what she’d asked, and grinned. “Besides what all newlyweds do.”
“We have a routine. Work in the mornings. He has legal matters to attend to, and I’m designing a new clothing line. In the afternoons, we sit out on the dock and soak up the sun.”
Pretty much, that summed up our lives together. Every now and then, Marco would go to New Orleans for a meeting or to pick up hard-to-find supplies. Those days, I visited with Cyril. I’d show him my newest watercolor paintings, and he’d share the latest bayou gossip. Otherwise, Marco and I lived in a bubble of ignorant bliss and sex. Lots of sex.
“Sometimes we go fishing, and I hike with the neighbor.” I walked into the living room and motioned for her to take a seat on the lumpy sofa.
She seemed surprised. “You have neighbors?”
“One. He lives about a half a mile away.” Laughing, I said, “Marco had a run in with a snake shortly after we came here. He refuses to go hiking with me.”