Page 68 of Dirty Dancer

We got the pan to the sink and I flipped on the water.

“Let it soak.” I gave her arm a gentle squeeze then retreated to turn off the burner.

“I made a horrible mess…”

“Well, I’m pretty damn sure you didn’t fly up into those silks the first time you did it. That probably took a lot of practice.”

Burner off, I got most of the batter cleaned up. The bits that had burnt to the top would have to wait until that was cooler. Ichecked the time, but fuck it. If I had to work late, I’d work late. If Sparrow wanted to learn how to make pancakes, then she was going to have a successful experience to base her next attempt on.

She swiped away the tears before they could spill—thank fuck.

“Let’s clean this up and start from scratch. I’ll walk you through every step and then we’ll make some fluffy pancakes.”

“The whole point was I was going to do it for you guys,” she admitted, so damn crestfallen it was adorable.

“Well, on the upside, you didn’t scorch the wall.” I gestured to the backsplash on the stove.

Her eyes rounded. “You?”

“Oh yeah,” I said, kind of proud. “I was grilling hot dogs on these wooden sticks, didn’t think I’d have any trouble cooking them over the open flame and then boom. The sticks caught on fire, so I kind of threw them.”

Emersyn clapped a hand over her mouth, but her eyes danced with merriment instead of misery.

“See, you’re already doing better than my first time.”

Between us, we made short work of the mess. Now she’d followed the instructions on the box, but I told her the secret, I always add a little bit more of the water than what the recipe suggested. Otherwise the batter was too thick and the pancakes too dense.

New pan out, I sprayed it down with some of the cooking spray and she frowned.

“I did that.”

“I believe you,” I soothed again. “Now, we preheat the pan.”

Her brows drew together and her concentration was so intense, I swore she memorized every step I was taking.

“We start the temperature on the pan at high, then turn it down.” I had her adjust the flames, then moving behind her, I paused. “Is this all right?”

“Yes,” she murmured and I took her hand holding the spatula and she relaxed her muscles so I could stir with her hand, stir, fold, stir, fold until the batter was a hint close to runny.

“Now,” I instructed. “We could use a measuring cup so you can learn how much to pour out, but I always do it by eye.” Together we turned to the pan, carrying the bowl and she moved with me. It kind of rattled me how easily she moved under my guidance like all I had to do was shift my weight and her body followed mine.

My dick perked up at that thought, but I steadfastly ignored it as I poured the batter. “Count with me, one, two?—”

“—three,” she finished and we stopped pouring there was a perfect four inch diameter pancake in the pan. It would be easier to make a mess of them on the griddle, but one at a time would do it.

“Watch for the air bubbles,” I told her and this close there was no way to miss the sweet way she smelled or how those wisps of hair tickled me.

“There,” she said with growing excitement. Grinning, I grabbed the spatula and then wrapped her fingers around the end, together, we slid it under and flipped it.

One golden face up at us.

“It doesn’t take long to cook at all!”

“Nope,” I said as I reached over to flip open a cabinet and pulled out a plate. “We can make a whole stack of them real quick if you’re up for it.”

She cast those dark eyes up at me and every bit of the oxygen in my lungs evacuated faster than the smoke had with the ceiling fans. “You don’t mind? I mean I was going to make this for all of you.”

“Then we’ll make it for us,” I suggested, thank fuck my voice did not crack. I swore, I felt thirteen and hitting puberty all over again.

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