Page 22 of The Kitchen Contract

“These comments are really something. Like this one, ‘I’d like to cook something up with Alex,’” he reads. “Or how about, ‘Alex can preheat my oven anytime.’” He looks up at me. “What does that even mean?”

“I’m not sure I want to know. My point is, when I first saw all the views and engagement, I thought it was because people were enjoying the recipes and instructions. But it seems like they just enjoy watching you.” That’s the real root of my insecurity, I realize. That people don’t care about the food—only about ogling a hot guy. Which would make me completely superfluous.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” he says dismissively, putting his phone back in his pocket.

I feel my face warming and my jaw tightening. “Seems like it to me.”

“Nah, you’re overthinking this. A few comments don’t mean anything.”

“I think it does,” I say through gritted teeth. “I wanted to create this show to help people, not to showcase a hot guy in the kitchen.”

“You think I’m hot?” His blue eyes are sparkling and his grin is as wide as the Grand Canyon.

“I didn’t say you were hot, they did.” I jab my finger at my phone lying on the counter and turn away, ostensibly to measure a cup of rice for the dish we’re making next. Really, it’s to hide the hot tears pricking my eyes. I blink rapidly to keep them at bay and try to calm myself. I know I’m blowing this out of proportion, but I can’t seem to help it.

“Hey.” Alex’s voice is soft as he steps beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder, gently turning me to face him as he ducks his head to look at me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you.”

I sniff. “It’s okay. It’s just that I hate it when people don’t take me seriously.” There’s plenty of history to unpack there, but now isn’t the time. Right now, I just want to move past this and start cooking.

“That’s fair, and again, I’m sorry. I do take you seriously.” Alex leans back against the counter, his gaze never leaving my face. “Sometimes I can get carried away with the joking and teasing. I didn’t mean any harm, but I can’t guarantee it won’t happen again, so how about this? Next time I’m taking it too far or you feel I’m not taking you seriously, you have full permission to shut me up.”

I give him a small smile. “How do you propose I do that?”

“However seems most effective to you. Slap your hand over my mouth, body slam me, whatever.”

Now that’s an interesting visual. “How about something a little less violent, like a code word? You know, in case there are kids around.”

“Good thinking. What should it be?”

“Hmmm.” I tap my chin with my finger and take my time thinking as Alex watches me with an eager smile. “I think I’m going to go with ‘armadillo.’”

“An excellent choice. Armadillos look like tiny armored trucks, so that should stop me in my tracks.”

Now that I’m calm again, I decide to return the favor. “Do you think you need a code word for me? For when I’m overthinking things?”

“Sleepy kitty,” he says without hesitation, and I raise an eyebrow.

“That was quick.”

“Next time you start to worry about something you can’t control—like the comments on these videos—then I’ll say ‘sleepy kitty’ and you can visualize how relaxing it would be to cuddle up with a drowsy feline.”

If that visualization includes a cup of coffee and a cozy chair on a rainy day, then I think he might be on to something.

I nod and stretch out my hand. “It’s a deal.”

“I’ll add it to our contract,” he jokes as he places his hand in mine.

We shake, and when he lets go, my hand misses his immediately. Which is weird, right? How can a hand miss another hand?

I clear my throat. “So, are you ready to cook?”

“Extremely ready. I’ve been trying not to snack for an hour.”

I laugh at his pitiful expression. “The good news is this should be pretty quick. You get the cameras set up while I warm up the hot plate and we’ll get going.”

Forty-five minutes later, Alex sighs in contentment as he scrapes up the last of his honey soy salmon and rice. “You’re seriously a magician.”

“Because I can cook food?”

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