She poked around in the salad then put a nicely portioned bite in her mouth, rolling it around on her tongue. Once she swallowed, her eyes closed. “What is this?”

“Fattoush. It’s a Lebanese bread salad.”

“This is bread?” she asked, pointing at the small squared pieces with her fork.

“It’s pita. Coating it in olive oil helps to keep it from getting soggy. Pretty good, huh?”

“It’s fucking wow is what it is,” she said, stabbing another large bite. “How did you learn to cook like this?”

He shrugged. “I’ve always liked to. I fended for myself and younger siblings a lot because my mom would be too high to know what time it was, much less dinnertime. When I got to Brad and Jenn’s and she noticed I could cook, she bought me a bunch of cookbooks, and we’d watch cooking shows together. She loves that … to find what a kid is passionate about, and then she goes a little overboard.”

She smiled. “I love Jenn.”

“Me too.”

“Where are your siblings now? Your biological ones?”

I shrugged. “I have older and younger brothers and sisters. I was sort of in the middle. We were taken away a few times before it was permanent. Sometimes they’d take one or two and the rest. We had disconnect. It was just easier on top of everything else.”

“Is that why you’re so walled off from Brad and Jenn and the rest of the family?”

“Am I?” I asked, considering her question. “I guess I am. They love me. They’re kind and care for me—all of them—but, yeah. I guess if I don’t care too much it won’t hurt as bad if they’re taken away.”

Naomi took another bite, the wheels in her head obviously spinning while she chewed.

By the time she’d tried everything, she sat back, her hand on her middle. Her chest rose and fell as a burp escaped. She covered her mouth and giggled.

I laughed out loud. “That’s a good sign the date is going well.”

“It’s a trial date.”

“Whatever,” I said with a grin, confidently meeting her gaze.

She wiped her mouth with the napkin and put it on the plate. “What do I do with this?”

“I’ll take care of it later.”

“Now what?” She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin on the heel of her hand. For a moment, she didn’t look so tough, so out of my league. “We have a few options. Movie. Cards. A drive. Talking.”

“All of the above,” she said. Her voice was different. Softer.

“Can I see you again?”

Her mouth slowly stretched into a grin.

chapter twenty

dirt

Naomi

“M

cCormack’s tonight?” Martinez asked me as we packed up.

“Can’t, I have plans.”

Sloan crossed his arms. “With who?”

“None of your business,” I said.