"This is where I grew up," he said softly.
"Your mother's house?" Now the decor made sense.
"Now mine and my brother's. We share the place."
"You both live here?"
"Yes, but he has a date tonight and won't be home until late. Come on into the kitchen and I'll grab the chicken for the grill. I have potatoes in the oven and a salad made."
"Your domestic side."
"The easiest thing I could think of to make. I can grill, but kitchen duty is not my strong suit."
This was not a good idea, but wild Cami pushed my nerves aside. I followed him into the kitchen walking past a winding staircase that I guessed led up to the bedrooms. Modern appliances filled the kitchen, and I envied the space. I would love to run loose in here. My tiny apartment had a small L-shaped counter with two barstools. It had a total of about three square feet to move around in. This room was a chef's dream.
"Your mother liked to cook?"