Page 48 of Owning Emma

I reached over and took the wooden spoon out of her hand. “You are done here, control freak. Take this pasta salad to the hall.” I looked over at Royal who was already grabbing things off the table to take with him. “We will make sure all of this gets there.”

“But I have bread in the oven!” She objected.

“Which Roman will happily take out.”

Roman nodded his agreement and added, “Where is the meat?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Oh, no you don’t. I will not leave you alone with slabs of meat to pick at as you choose. They are being cooked at the hall by your mother, which is why we made this all here.”

“I’m beginning to wonder who the boss is around here,” he grumbled.

“I have no questions on the who, but I should break the news to you. Your power might be threatened,” I joked.

“I’m about to show both of you who’s in charge,” he shot back, then looked equally shocked by his own words. He turned, grabbed a potholder, and pulled open the oven, removing the bread and effectively avoiding my questioning gaze.

He loaded the bread into a towel-lined basket with little grace, just dumped them in and hoped none fell to the floor. Beside me, Emma gasped, then sighed when nothing dropped. After picking up the basket, he finally looked at us. “What?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head, then proceeded to lead the way to the hall, where we drank, socialized, and ate some damn good food.

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