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He
puts it on the stove, “Thanks, glad you have such faith in me.”

She
laughs, “I figured Brooke would be a good teacher.”

I
smile at Cassie, “I didn’t have to teach him that much. Do you cook?”

“My
mom tried to teach me a few times, but I wasn’t great at it. She was an awesome
cook.”

“I
bet she was, it takes a little practice. I bet you and Dylan could learn
together. Maybe take a cooking class.”

They
both laugh like that is insane, “What?”

Cassie
is still laughing a little, “I can’t picture Dylan in a cooking class.”

He
seconds that, “No way in hell.”

I
roll my eyes with a smile, “Why not? Will it hurt your tough guy image?”

He
nods, but can’t help but to smile also, “Yeah, I think it would.”

Cassie
laughs a little more, “Maybe we could make Jax go too.”

“That’s
a good idea, Cassie.  Those cooking classes are great for friends and family
who hang out together for dinners.  I’ve always wanted to go to them.”

“Oh
yeah, he would love that, Cassie.  What about Jax says ‘Betty Crocker’?  I say
we talk Brooke into going with us since it was her bright idea.  I’m sure she
would get way more out of it than he would.”

I
was not expecting that at all. I still haven’t met Jax, but the family seems to
love him. I will have to remember to ask Dylan to introduce me soon so I can
get to know him also. Dylan asks Cassie to set the table, and she gets some
plates out of the cabinet.  She continues the conversation, “You know I
wouldn’t mind taking a class, though, I mean they say the quickest way to a guy’s
heart is his stomach right?”

Dylan
looks frustrated, “You need to keep your head in the books and not worry so
much about winning a guy’s hearts.”

I
nod in agreement, “Besides you should try to find a guy that cooks for you and
not one that you have to cook for all the time.”

“What
guy cooks for a girl?”

“The
good ones that know you are worth it,” I respond to her question.  She shakes
her head, smiling, as she walks into the dining room to set the table.

Dylan
puts a spoon in the bowl of mashed potatoes. “That girl is going to be the
death of me.”

“She’s
just curious; it’s totally normal. You were that age once.”

“Yeah,
I was. That’s what scares the shit out of me.”

I
laugh, “You’ll be fine. Looks like everything is finished, so I’m going to go.”

“You
aren’t even going to eat the food you helped make?”  He looks shocked that I’m
leaving. 
Was he planning on me staying?

As
tempting as that is, I know I can’t stay. “Nope, I have Chinese takeout and
some wine waiting for me at home.”

“Oh,
so it’s fine for you to eat takeout?”

“Yep,
I don’t have children to bond with, and my roommate and I get along just fine
with our takeout.”

He
smiles and walks me to the door. Cassie asks me to stay for dinner on the way
to the out, but I turn her down gracefully, and she goes on setting the table.

We
reach the door, and Dylan says, “Thank you for helping me with dinner.”

“You’re
welcome, and it’s really no big deal. You really should consider cooking
classes.”

He
shakes his head, “There’s always something with you.  Learning from you right
now is enough.  And the next lesson, you’re staying for dinner.”

“So,
you want more lessons, huh?”

“I
don’t think the natives are going to be happy with meatloaf and mashed potatoes
every night, so I’m hoping you have more to teach me.”

“Yeah,
I’ve got a lot more recipes.  So, lesson number two next Tuesday?”

He
smiles again and nods before reminding me that I’m staying for dinner as well. 
Each week is getting better, and I can’t believe how far we have come in a
little over a month. Tonight turned out far better than I expected it to with
Luke speaking civilly and Gabby showing us a picture she drew, it was beyond
anything I expected when it comes to the Monroes.

We
say our goodbyes and plan on meeting up next Tuesday.  I tell him I’ll text him
the shopping list after he picks out a menu for next Tuesday.  Briefly, I
wonder if I should say something about what they’re going to eat in the
meantime, then swiftly rein in the curiosity.  I have no desire to leave
tonight on a bad note.

I
walk out to my car feeling satisfied with the progress I’m making. It’s a
feeling that’s eluded me since becoming a social worker, and it all has to do
with this once impossible family.

I
feel lines beginning to blur.

Dylan

Why
isn’t there anything in this damn book that calls for seven different kinds of
cereal, milk, chips, or day-old donuts? 
I’ve been
going back and forth between an empty pantry and an even emptier refrigerator
then comparing it with the
250-Simple Recipes for Beginner Cooks
book
that Brooke brought over two weeks ago.   Unfortunately, I have nothing.  I’m
exhausted though this week has been productive at work and even more productive
at home.  Brooke’s visits have been the hit of everyone’s week since the first
night she helped me cook dinner.  The second week she had texted me the
ingredients for homemade macaroni and cheese and grilled chicken breasts.  Needless
to say, it was a hit.  She stayed for that meal, and the night had been a blast
for everyone, even Luke dropped his attitude.  She relaxed, and the rest of us
fell right in line with her easy laid back mood.

She
seems to be sliding right in on all of us, and I don’t have it in me to stop
it.  The more I’m around her, the more I want to get to know all of her.  She’s
beautiful with an understated sexiness that I bet she has not even aware of.  I
can’t fucking stop thinking about what she would look like or be like if she
would let herself go.   When she comes over now, she, at least, changes into
jeans and t-shirts, but she keeps her hair up in that damn bun.  I’ve imagined
pulling the pins down and running my hands through it until I’m making myself
crazy.

It
seems my weeks are becoming all about Tuesday evenings.  In between, Cassie and
I have been trying recipes. Unfortunately, the pantry dries up and so does the
fridge.  Oh, well, it’s looking like pizza tonight.  I pull my cell phone out
of my pocket when Cassie bounces happily into the kitchen. “So what are we
cooking tonight?”

“I
was just about to order pizza. Our cabinets are pretty empty; I’ll go shopping
tomorrow.”

“Sounds
okay to me. Sooo….”  She still has a huge grin plastered across her face.  No
doubt some cheerleading thing is about to fill in the blessed silence for the
next thirty minutes while we wait on the pizza.

“What’s
up, Cass?”

She
smiles so big I think her face might break.
I’m just about
ready to crack a smile myself at that thought, until she opens her mouth,
“Okay, so I got asked to the homecoming dance next Friday!”

Shit.
Why couldn’t it have been some cheerleading thing? I’m not ready for my little
sister to start dating. I just stare, because I have no idea how to put the
words, “Fuck no,” nicely, and not hurt her feelings.   So I clear my throat
loudly. It’s not without notice that she is excited about this, and I don’t
have a clue how to burst her bubble without upsetting her, so I go with, “Oh
yeah?”

“Yes.
I can’t believe it! Brent, this really hot basketball player, just came up to
my locker today and asked if I wanted to go with him. I mean, we have talked a
few times at lunch, but I had no clue that he was into me.”  I swear her voice
has raised four octaves in the course of this one sentence.

Shit,
what to do, what to do.
All I can think is this isn’t
good. A basketball player that she doesn’t even really know all of the sudden
wants to take her to a really important high school dance. “Cass, I’m happy for
you, but you have to be careful with boys your age, well really with any guys.”

Her
eyes roll way back, so far back I think it might be dangerous, “Dylan, I’m not
a kid, I just turned fifteen last week. I’m three years away from being a legal
adult.” What the hell is her point?  “I can handle a date at a homecoming dance
just fine.”

Well
good for you,
is what I think.  What I say, “Okay,
I’ll drive you and this boy to the dance and back.  Find out his address.”

“You
don’t need to do that.  He has all that covered.  He’s 17, so he has a car. 
But there is one place you can take me, shopping.  I need a dress.”

I’m
sure my brain is short circuiting.  Hell, I’m sure smoke is seconds away from
coming out of my head if it hasn’t already. I have nothing intelligent to say,
and even less to think. 
Did she just say 17, own car, and shopping?
  I
know I must have missed something.  Number one, my sister is not going on a
date with a 17-year-old horny little fuck, basketball player
alone.
And
in
his car?
  Uh, no.  And shopping?  I hardly shop for myself, and I sure as
shit don’t shop in a dress shop.  No way.  “A dress, huh?”  That’s what comes out
when I should be shutting down this crazy I-have-a-date conversation she
started.

“Yes,
I need a semi-formal dress that will help me get Brent’s attention.”

This
girl is killing me. “I don’t think getting his attention is a problem here,
Cassie.  He’s already asked you out.  And I just don’t like this idea. How
about, if I take you shopping on Sunday, will you please call him and tell him
I’ll drive you guys, or hell, tell him you’ll meet him there.”  I’m flat out
begging my little sister not to go on this date.
Fucking pathetic.

“No,
Dylan.  I’m going with Brent, and you’re taking me shopping for a dress.  Don’t
ruin my life by embarrassing me.” Awesome, she thinks I’m ruining her life like
I used to accuse our father of all the time.  What the fuck do I do here?

My
mind goes to Brooke.  I need to talk to her about this.  Is 15 too young to
date a 17-year-old?  “Cassie, just give me a little time to process this.  Let
me think.  I’m going to order pizza for us and, I don’t know…..”  I look at her
eyes that are pleading with me to let her go on this date that I know isn’t a
good idea.  Sure, I “dated” girls her age in high school, but those girls
weren’t my sister.  I don’t want my sister to be a girl like they were.  I can
feel myself breaking out in a sweat here.  “Cass, I’ll let you know before you
go to bed.  Let me get everyone fed and just think, please.”

Time
for her to turn on her charm, “Thanks, Dylan.” She gives me a quick kiss on the
cheek and dances out of the kitchen, and I sit down at the dining room table. I
have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I don’t think I’m just
overreacting to this sudden date idea.  My mind drifts to where it always goes
these days.
Brooke
. I wonder what she will think about this.

I
order the pizza from a local place that the kids love, and then hit Brooke’s
number in my contacts.  I refuse to analyze why I need to talk to her about
Cassie going on a date, but there it is.  Even if she doesn’t agree with me, at
least, she’ll make me feel better about letting Cassie go out with this kid.  Somehow
and I can’t for the life of me figure out when it happened, but just listening
to Brooke’s reassurance has managed to talk me off the ledge on several
occasions.  She just makes everything make sense. 
And I need to add tampons
to my shopping list before I start my first period.

She
picks up on the second ring, “Hey, Dylan.”

“Hey,
umm….okay, here’s the thing…..you see, I just don’t know what…..I need your advice
or approval or…..”

“What’s
going on, is everyone okay, Dylan?”

“Yeah,
everyone’s fine.  Cassie just hit me with something, and I’m not sure what I
should do, if I should let her go.  I know it’s a school dance, but I’m not
sure she’s…..”

“Dylan,
stop.  You have to give me something here. Does Cassie want to go to the
homecoming dance?”

“With
a boy, wait, a 17-year-old boy who has a car.”

She
laughs, fucking laughs, at me, “You know she’s going to want to date at some
point.  She’s a good girl, and you’re going to have to trust her.  Just set a
curfew, meet the boy at the door, and let him know when she needs to be home. 
And relax, I promise things will be fine.”

“How
can you promise that?  I know what 17-year-old boys think about and what they
want to do to pretty girls who get in their cars.”

“I
can promise you because I know Cassie.  She’s smart, and she knows if she
messes this up that her big brother won’t let her date again until she’s 25.”

“Ha,
ha, smartass.  Okay, I’m going to trust you on this, but you can bet your sweet
ass I’m going to have one hell of a long conversation with her, and probably
the little fuckwit who thinks asking my 15-year-old sister out is a great
idea.”

“Oh,
my God, Dylan.  Seriously you need to relax.  When’s the dance?”

“Next
Friday after the game.”

And
thank God she offers, “Would it make you feel better if I talk to her?”

“Would
you?  Please, I’ll owe you so big, Brooke.  Just, I don’t know….hey, tell her
how she shouldn’t let a boy touch her until, like, I don’t know, the tenth
date, that’s reasonable don’t you think?”

Why
does she have to giggle so sweetly? “I promise to talk to her about boys and
first dates and what’s appropriate and inappropriate.  Now, would you please
just stop over thinking and worrying yourself to death, because this is just
the beginning, and then you’ll have to start all over when it’s Gabby’s turn.”

“Yeah,
well, don’t think I’m going to let you off the hook when it comes to Gabby.”

She’s
quiet for a beat too long.  I know she heard what I accidentally let slip, and
now she’s retreating into her head. “I promise I won’t let you down, Dylan. 
Now have dinner and check homework for school tomorrow.  I’ll give Cassie a
call or talk to her on Tuesday.” 

“Thanks,
Brooke.  I’ll talk to you soon.”  I hang up the phone and wonder where I lost
my brain-to-mouth filter because surely I didn’t just reference a future in
that conversation that included Brooke.  I turn when I hear footsteps
approaching the kitchen.

Jax
joins me in the dining room as I’m hanging up the phone, “Where the hell is
dinner, Betty Crocker?”

The
ass has been having a blast with me learning how to cook, but it’s something I
have enjoyed.  I’m just not telling him that, and I’m damn sure not letting him
know how much I like spending the time with Brooke either texting her crazy
questions about shopping list or cooking with her.  I haven’t seen anything, in
my 26 years, sexier than Brooke Porter cooking in my kitchen.

She
allows herself to relax and laugh and joke with me.  I think she almost forgets
our roles.  We dance around each other in the kitchen when I put my special
playlist on that I made just for cooking with Brooke in the kitchen.  We tease
each other over our tastes in music and movies.  We talk about dream cars, and
this girl knows her cars, which is entirely too much of a turn on by itself.

It
still bugs the shit out of me that I’ve only talked her into eating with us
once. I know she had a good time with us that evening.  I didn’t miss how
reluctant she was to leave when we had finished cleaning the kitchen.  I also
know she’s attracted to me, I’ve seen her watching me when we cook.  I’ve seen
her shy smiles when she knows I’ve caught her looking.  I’ve felt her shiver
when I brush up against her.

The
problem is, she’s entirely too much into her head.  The fuck of it all, I know
why.  She’s our social worker, and this attraction has,
don’t go there
,
in big fucking letters.  It’s just that I don’t care anymore, and I know that
makes me a selfish prick, but I want to shake that girl out of her shell.  I
want to suck on her bottom lip that she likes to stick out at me when she pouts
or nibbles when she’s concentrating, and when she makes that luscious “O” shape
when she’s surprised or right before she laughs, I nearly bust a nut.  I just
want her, and I can’t come up with a good argument why I should stop wanting
her. The circumstances may be for shit, but I don’t give a fuck.  I’ve never given
much consideration about the right or wrong of a situation; that’s why I ended
up fucking Joy, even knowing it was a mistake.  When I want something or
someone, I just go for it.

I’ll
save these thoughts for a more private time, and then I inform Jax, “Pizza will
be here in thirty.”

He
sits at the table. “What’s up with you man, your face has a scared shitless
look?”

“Yeah,
well I just had a fuck-me moment with Cassie.  Seems she has a date next Friday
with a boy and he’s got a car.  He’s taking her to the homecoming dance.”

“Oh,
shit.  Do you know who he is?”

“Some
dipshit on the basketball team, I don’t know him, except his name is Brent. 
Maybe I’ll ask Luke about him.  But that’s not the fuck all, man. She wants me
to take her shopping for a new dress.”

“Um,
that’s sweet and creepy at the same time, dude. Oh, and you guys have fun with
that.”

“You
wanna go?”

“Oh,
fuck no.  Hey, why don’t you ask your social worker to take her? Seems like she
loves to help, I mean, she’s giving you cooking lessons for Christ’s sake.”

Jax
has still yet to meet Brooke. Tuesdays are the only days he doesn’t come over,
and for some reason, I’m cool with them not meeting. Brooke was supposed to go
to the football game last week, but she ended up having some emergency, so I
got to avoid them meeting for another week.  I think about what he said, maybe
Brooke would like to go.