Page 44 of Meant for Two

The last thing Blair wanted to do was make Zane feel bad. “That’s okay. Jeff, if you have another pan, I’ll cook the veggies and then sauté the meat. We can then add the sauce. It will be perfect.”

“I don’t have another pan. I need to cook the spaghetti first. Then you can work your magic.”

Blair was used to following a recipe exactly, but it wouldn’t hurt to deviate. “That would be great. Since you two seem to have everything well in hand, how about I chop the veggies?”

“I have a better idea,” Jeff said. “I’ll pour the wine and then I'll prepare the veggies and sauce. You should rest.”

When he didn’t wait for her to answer, Blair guessed she didn’t have much of a choice, though she wasn’t as injured as they seemed to think. “That sounds amazing. Thank you.”

“Let me grab you a stool,” Zane said.

Zane pulled one over and motioned for her to sit. He then went back to attending to the sauce.

“My uncle just called. Turns out the warden at the Midvale prison and he go back a long way.” Jeff pointed to several different kinds of wine on the counter. “White or red? I have both since I didn’t know what you liked.”

She debated asking both of them why they were treating her so well, but she decided it would be best to just go with the flow for now. “Red, thank you.”

Jeff opened the bottle of wine, located a glass, and poured her a drink. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Blair wasn’t sure why he told her that. "What did the warden say?"

“He told my uncle that your father is not a model prisoner.”

She huffed out a laugh. “I’m not surprised. He’s a murderer, in prison for life, though he keeps hoping they’ll let him out.”

“For good behavior maybe, but it seems he’s been in a lot of fights lately.”

“I hope it goes on his record. I don’t want to have to testify again at another parole hearing.” She sounded bitter but too bad. Her father was evil.

“I bet there won’t be one. About ten days ago, your father got into a fight with someone,” Jeff said. “Apparently, he poked the man’s eye out.”

“Oh my god! Did the warden say what the fight was about? Not that I’m saying he might not be at fault or anything, but I would like the know the circumstances.” In case he was the instigator.

“I wasn’t given the details.” Jeff looked down at the boiling pot. “The spaghetti should be done.”

He tested a piece, and when he seemed satisfied, he poured the contents into a colander. She was surprised he had such a kitchen item. Maybe he asked Zane to grab it from his apartment.

Blair took a sip of the fine wine and then set it down on the kitchen island. “I can chop the veggies.”

“You drink your wine, and I’ll chop.” Jeff sounded rather insistent.

Blair held back her retort. She didn’t like people thinking she was some invalid, but she understood why Jeff and Zane would treat her as such. She had been in a car wreck, so she’d let it slide—for now.

Not only that, she was staying at Jeff’s place and didn’t want him upset with her. For some reason, she sensed that if she hadn’t needed a place to stay—according to the men—Jeff might have moved in, despite the place being minimally furnished.

“Zane, do you want wine or beer?” she asked. “I can pour you a glass.”

“I can get it.”

Now he was being silly. “You’re stirring the sauce, and I don’t like feeling useless,” she said.

The men exchanged glances as if they were trying to decide to let her do anything. Then Zane faced her. “Wine, please.”

Thank goodness. “Jeff?”

“You might as well pour me a glass too.”

While she poured their drinks, Jeff produced a knife and a cutting board from one of the drawers—a drawer that she thought had been empty before. “Did you buy all of this today?”