Page 94 of Meet Me In The Dark

“I’m going to go take a nap,” he told her, with a brief, hard kiss. “I expect breakfast when I come back.”

“I’ll tell Micah,” she said, and he laughed and slapped her ass before disappearing from the room.

Micah entered, stopping and smiling at her. He did that a lot lately, stopped and smiled—and it no longer felt like there was some hidden agenda beneath it. Just him, happy that they were together. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

“I love having you in my kitchen,” he said between kisses, “even though you forgot to wash your mug before we left. But you know what? For that, I’m putting you to work.”

She leaned back against him, enjoying the affection.

“To work? What happened to not letting any of us ‘kitchen nightmares’ cook?”

He laughed against her neck. “I still don’t trust Luke or Conor, and I’m not certain you wouldn’t burn down the whole house accidentally while trying to toast bread?—”

“—I know how to toast bread.”

“—but I still want to teach you to cook.”

With that, he left her to turn to the fridge, where he pulled out a carton of eggs, as well as butter.

“Micah, you sexy, manipulative jerk, I know how to make eggs,” Kara said, somewhat offended.

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not talking about a half-burnt scramble or even some sunny side up business. I’m going to teach you how to make a French omelet. It’s how restaurants audition chefs, because if you can’t make an eggproperly, you certainly shouldn’t be allowed to do anything else.”

Kara joined him at the stove, watching as he heated the pan on high.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to cook eggs above medium heat?” she asked.

He stepped behind her. “That’s for amateurs. Now, slice off a slab of butter and drop it in the pan, and tilt it around until the butter covers the bottom completely.”

She followed his directions, enjoying his warmth at her back and his left hand on her hip as he handed her an egg with his right.

“The moment the butter bubbles, it’s time to crack your eggs in the pan. Do not let them set, immediately begin beating them with a fork so they mix properly—but gently.”

“Sounds like something Luke would do,” Kara said, taking the egg from him and cracking it on the pan, then the next, then the next. Micah handed her a fork, brushing his fingers with hers when he did and lighting sparks within her, but she needed to ignore them, because the eggs were about to set.

“Alright, you’re going to want to start tilting the pan again as they cook, so they don’t stick. There you go, that’s it. You’re doing so good, baby,” he murmured behind her.

Kara beat the eggs, marveling at how they turned a soft, consistent yellow in the pan.

“Now, you’re going to want to flip them. Beginners mostly use rubber spatulas for this, but I want you to pop the pan in your hand like you’re attempting to flip a pancake, but keep it tilted at a forty-five degree angle so it folds—exactly. Exactly like that.”

Every single word sounded like sex. Felt like being heldafter, adored and loved. She’d never see cooking eggs the same way again.

“Okay, baby, take the fork and fold up the bottom, like you’re sealing an envelope. Now! You’re done!” Out of nowhere, a plate appeared next to her. “Gently slide the omelet out of the pan and voila, you’ve done it.”

She’d done it. A silly thing, cooking some eggs, but it filled her with pride.

He placed the plate next to her, reaching around her to turn off the stove. She turned into his arms and he pulled her away to make sure she didn’t get burned by the still hot range.

“I’m proud of you, baby,” he said. “Do you know what you just did?”

“Make an omelet?’ she tried to tease, but her heart was racing.

“No. Tried something new, something you could have easily failed at, without having a panic attack.”

Oh.

Oh.

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