Page 32 of Hot Shot
“Welcome to my humble abode. It’s not much but it’s home,” she says when we walk in.
“It’s nice,” I say glancing around. “Smells great in here, too.” My stomach rumbles as the scent of garlic and onions hits my nose. Madison laughs and I can’t help but chuckle as well.
“I’m going to go change and then we can eat. Make yourself at home. There are drinks in the fridge. Help yourself.” She points toward the kitchen area before disappearing into what I assume is her bedroom.
“Okay.” I take in her apartment, an open-concept floor plan with the living room and kitchen combined. It might be a quarter of the size of my place, but it feels so much homier and not at all cramped.
Probably because she has actually decorated. A plush gray sofa that looks way more comfortable than the one in my apartment is pushed against one wall, blankets thrown over the back.
On either side of the sofa are two small side tables with mismatched lamps and pictures in frames. I move closer so I can see who is in the pictures. The first is of her and an older woman with her arm thrown around Madison’s shoulders. The woman looks like her so I assume it’s her mom.
Another photo is of a group of people dressed in matching chef’s uniforms. Her classmates, I’d bet. I turn my attention to the rest of the room and see the coffee table stacked with books and magazines in front of the couch. A television mounted on the opposite wall. A peek into the kitchen shows a small but functional space.
Before I have time to check out more of Madison’s apartment, the bedroom door opens, and she steps into view, dressed in black leggings and an oversized shirt, her long brown hair swept into a bun on the top of her head.
She’s gorgeous. I scrub a hand over my face and take a deep breath. I swear she could be dressed in a paper bag and still be beautiful.
“Hey.” My voice cracks and I clear my throat, trying again. “Nice place.”
Madison walks past me into the kitchen, furrowing her brows as she does. “Everything okay?”
“Fine. Fine.”
She nods and takes bowls from the cabinet.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“Here.” Madison passes me a bowl of roast, potatoes, and carrots before dishing out her own from the Crock-Pot sitting on the counter. “Can you grab some utensils? They’re in that drawer over there.” She points to the other side of the oven.
“Thanks. Smells amazing,” I say as I take the bowl she hands me and grab two forks. My stomach rumbles again in agreement.
“Water okay?” Madison asks, standing in front of the fridge with two empty glasses in her hand.
“Perfect.”
“Are you okay with sitting on the sofa? I don’t have a table. There’s no room.” She gestures around the space. “I usually eat standing up at the counter or on the couch. When I’m not eating at Judy’s that is.”
“The couch is fine. Judy’s your aunt, right?” I ask once we’re seated on the couch with our food.
“Yeah. She’s my mom’s older sister. It was only the two of them and Judy doesn’t have any kids. So it’s just us now. What’s your family like?”
“I have a lot of family back home in Minnesota. Aunts, uncles, cousins.” I spear a piece of meat with my fork and take a bite. I can’t help but moan at how tender and delicious everything is.
I notice the smirk on Madison’s face.
“Your parents?” she asks.
I swallow the bite of food, trying to figure out how much to tell her about them. I set my fork and bowl down and lean back against the cushions.
“Last I knew my mom was traveling with her new husband in Europe. My dad.” I shrug because what’s there to say about the piece of shit. “I haven’t seen him since I was ten.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Madison frowns, staring down at her bowl.
“It is what it is. My aunts and uncles are super supportive of me. Plus all my cousins. At least I have them. You said you were living in Nashville? That’s a far cry from Denver. Did you go to school there?” I ask.
I’m desperate to get off the subject of my parents. Talking about them always makes me uncomfortable. I hate the questions that always come up about my relationship, or lack thereof, with them.
“No. My best friend . . .” She frowns, shaking her head. I wonder what that’s about. Before I can ask she continues. “My best friend lives in Nashville, and I wanted to be close to someone I knew after I finished school. My mom was traveling at that time so there was no reason to move back to Denver. Nashville was great for a while but eventually I decided I wanted to be closer to my family, well my aunt, which is why I’m here.”
