Page 28 of In a Pinch

Gauging the size of them, I say, “Eh, let’s go with about ten per person. They will cook down quite a bit.”

“Alrighty, captain, I’m on it.” She gives a salute and starts to slice away. Her knife work is pretty impressive; everything is equally sized, and she moves with ease.

We work silently for a while, and I can tell it is killing Addie. She looks over at me and opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it. Multiple times. Eventually, she loses the battle.

“What made you want to be a chef?” She pauses her chopping to look over at me.

“I think it is always what I was meant to do. I love cooking; it grounds me. Zoning out and creating things people love is really rewarding.”

Her gaze lingers on my face before replying, “That is really nice.”

“Yeah, my mom and I spent a lot of time in the kitchen together. Liv was never interested in cooking, and Cal and my dad were always doing what my dad called ‘boy things.’ He always said that women want a man's man. Whatever the fuck that means.” It’s not like I can’t do the stereotypical boy things, like changing a tire. I just preferred cooking over football, and then I preferred chasing this career over a boring corporate job. Good for him and Cal, but it isn’t meant for me.

“What, cooking wasn't manly enough? Tell me you’re insecure without telling me.”

The laugh leaves my lips before I even think about it.

“Yeah, it doesn’t bug me as much anymore. I’m happy, and he can either figure his shit out or figure his shit out with one less son.” Only part of that is a lie. I wish my dad would be as proud of me as he is his other kids, but his pride and love come with terms and conditions that I am not willing to meet.

“You know, I know it’s not my business, but Isla has mentioned your dad being a dick to Cal, too. When he and Isla started dating, he was putting a lot of pressure on Cal because he was choosing to spend time with Isla and taking time off.”

Well, that is a new development.

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was a part of the reason Isla moved out here so fast; Cal had to put him in his place. Sometimes, being the golden child isn’t so easy either. Just keep that in mind. Cal isn’t your dad. If he was, I sure as hell wouldn’t be letting my best friend marry him.”

“You’ve got experience with the golden child thing?”

“I used to. I think I have a case of 'peaked at twenty-two.' Both my parents are incredibly supportive. So, I can’t relate on that end. I take the disappointment into my own hands.”

“So, my pep talk from the other day didn’t work?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

“No, it was really nice, and it helped. I’m coming to terms with no longer being the front-runner at accomplishing things.”

“Well, if it counts for anything, you are one of the few people on the planet I can tolerate for more than three minutes, and that is a pretty high achievement.” The second she stood up for me at dinner, I knew I was done for. She was different.

My comment seems to do the trick. Her smile beams at me, and I swear I can feel a little flicker of something in my chest.

“And you’re not quite as much of an asshole as I originally thought you were.”

“Quite as much?” I ask, quirking my head.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, you still have some jackass in you. But I like it, anyways.”

I couldn’t stop the laugh that came up if I tried. “Yeah, yeah. Get back to work. Those aren’t going to shred themselves.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “Yes, Chef.”

Her words shoot straight to my cock, and I have to busy myself to try to make my body forget how much I liked her saying that.Yes, Chef.Fuuuck, that’s hot.

We get back to the swing of things and settle into comfortable conversation. She follows my directions and gets the brussels sprouts nice and crispy as I pull the mac and cheese out of the oven. The breadcrumbs created the perfect exterior.

Dishing up a plate, I put hers in front of her and anxiously await her reaction. Do I know it's good? Yeah. Does having her taste my cooking for the first time in the kitchen I love so much make me super nervous? Also, yeah. It’s like my manhood and pride are on the line with freaking mac and cheese.

“Well?” I search her face, trying to find a hint of anything going on, but my eyes wander over her face and land on her lips. I find myself blatantly staring for a second and wondering what it would be like to kiss her, before her eyes make their way back to my face.

“Meh.” She shrugs her shoulder, “for as much trash as you talk, I thought this would be better. The sauce is a little chalky.” I scan her face for a sign of sarcasm but come out blank.

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