Jason and Dylan both pulled up to the house together early Thursday morning. Dylan looked like she was dressed for a charity gala, always so image conscious. Jason, on the other hand, looked like he had just finished a morning round at the golf club, his pompous sunglasses tucked neatly in the collar of his shirt as he walked into the kitchen.

“Morning, jerk-off,” he said, tossing a wadded up receipt at me.

“I know what I’m not thankful for,” I said, tossing it back at his face. He rounded the breakfast bar and put his arm around me for a squeeze.

“Oh, come on little brother. You know you love me,” he said, kissing the top of my head with a Donald-Duck-ish sucking sound. I just elbowed him off me and wiped my forehead.

I was helping Rosie peel potatoes, the repetitive task soothing. I hadn’t slept since my talk with my dad the night before, but instead, tossed and turned while I spun my grandmother’s ring around in my fingers. I was f**king exhausted, which I thought would come in handy tonight and help me get a really good night’s sleep before heading back down to Tucson for the game. Trig was still asleep in the spare bedroom upstairs, and I was so damned jealous of his happy-ass self.

Dylan walked over to the sink and rolled up the sleeves of her sparkling turtleneck to wash her hands. She smiled at me a bit, and I smiled back. I really didn’t have a beef with Dylan. Yeah, she wasn’t the nicest to Nolan in the past, but I think it was really more of her personality flaw rather than any actual malice or dislike for Nolan. And she was good at her job. She’d learned a lot from her father, and she was making some moves for me that I knew would set me up for life.

When she grabbed a potato and started to peel along side me, I chuckled a little. “What?” she said, stopping and putting her hand on her hip.

“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head and continuing to laugh a little to my self. She was still staring at me, though. “It’s just…you sooooo don’t look like the kind of girl who would know how to peel a potato.”

She just smirked at that and went back to work on her potato, peeling the entire thing in one cut, leaving a swirl of perfect curls on the counter before me. She turned around then and pulled a sharper, larger knife from the butcher block behind her. Turning the blade over in her hands a little to look at it, she finally rested it at the edge of the potato before lowering her gaze and then going to work, dicing it into the tiniest, perfect squares in a matter of seconds. The entire scene left me shocked—eyes wide, and my hands frozen in the suddenly inferior pile of potato peels in front of me.

“Ooooookay, so maybe you do look like the kind of girl who can peel a potato,” I said, my smile wide.

Dylan blew the blade like it was a smoking gun, and then giggled a little herself, moving to the sink to rinse it off. We were just beginning to have a good time when Jason walked up and slid into one of the stools to put an end to it.

“What the f**k do you find so funny?” he said, rolling his eyes at me. I just stared at him, willing myself not to engage. Realizing how hard I was trying, Dylan actually came to the rescue, explaining her parlor trick to me.

“I went to culinary school for a while,” she shrugged at me. I was surprised…and impressed. “I didn’t really want to be a chef, but I just wanted to learn something completely different from the biz, ya know?”

Suddenly feeling possessive or something, Jason stood from his seat, and came over to stand behind her, and kiss her neck a little, popping a piece of raw potato in his mouth. “That’s right, bro. My girl can cook, and she’s f**king wild in bed,” he winked as she elbowed him a little, embarrassed, but also clearly affected by his compliment.

No, I didn’t mind Dylan. But Dylan and Jason? That was a little much to take.

I helped Rosie prep in the kitchen most of the day, avoiding Jason, who just sat on the sofa and watched football with Trig and my pops. Dylan had some business to finish and spent most of her day on a computer at the dining table until she moved to my dad’s office, when Rosie started to dress the table for dinner.

Sean and Becky came over first, followed by Sarah, Calley and Sienna. Each time a car pulled down the driveway, I ran to the window like a damned golden retriever, waiting for his master to come home. And I was both relieved and sad each time it wasn’t Nolan’s car pulling in. It was only 5 p.m. and Sean had told Nolan to show up around 5:30, so I took the opportunity to rush upstairs and shower. I was suddenly nervous, like I was back in high school and gathering up the courage to kiss her for the first time—or ask her to dance.