Page 14 of That's the Way Rejection Goes

“Are you twosureyou want to help with this?” Sam asked, his brows furrowed in concern as we walked over to me and took the chef’s knife to the sink to be washed. “When you offered, I thought you knew what you were doing.”

“It’s fine,” I grumbled, taking my finger out of my mouth. Thanks to my werewolf healing, the cut had already stopped bleeding and was quickly sealing itself. “I’m just clumsy is all.”

“You’re not clumsy,” Sam replied, giving me some serious side-eye. “I saw the way you hold that knife. It’s frankly, horrific.”

I couldn’t help but grin at his directness. “Well? Then show me how to use it correctly.”

Sam finished washing the knife and brought it back over to me, rolling his eyes. “Fine. But if you cut a finger off, I’m not helping you put it back on.”

He stepped up beside me, handing me the knife. Reaching out, he took another from the magnetic strip in front of us and grabbed a carrot, pulling it toward him on the cutting board.

“You have to hold the knife like this,” he said, holding it up and turning the knife over to show me. “With your forefinger draped over the topside of the blade. You use it to steady your movements and keep it balanced.”

I mimicked his position as best I could. “Like that?”

“That’s not bad.” He placed the blade of his knife on the board. “And you’re gonna cut with the closer part of the knife, not the tip. Especially with hard veggies, you want the weight of the blade helping you do most of the work.”

Sam made a few example cuts, and I followed suit, trying to reproduce his movements exactly. It took a few tries, but eventually I felt like I was doing a pretty good job. At least until Sam glanced down at my work.

“Well, I’m glad we’re doing soup tonight,” he laughed, looking over my cuts. “Because those areverydifferent sized pieces.”

“Wait, they have to be the same size too?” I groaned, letting my knife fall to the board. “You didn’t say that!”

“I figured it was a given.”

“But you know I don’t…” I sighed. “I don’t know a damn thing about this cooking thing.”

“Yeah, I put that together on my own funnily enough.”

“Sorry we’re such a project.”

“Speak for yourself,” Calum called from the other side of the kitchen. “I’m a fucking pro at slathering these chickens in butter.”

“He’s actually not bad at it,” Sam conceded.

“Yeah, because a fucking monkey could slap butter on a chicken,” I grumbled.

Sam smiled, nudging me with his shoulder. “You’re doing just fine. It takes time to learn all this stuff.”

The burst of electricity through my system from his touch surprised me. Even with onions, garlic, and all manner of veggies stinking up the place, his scent was still getting through too. Just having him so close, the heat coming off his body in waves, it was driving me crazy. I was happy for the apron because without it, I’d be sporting a very obvious hard on.

“So… Sam…” I began, the nerves kicking in. “I… uh… well, I wanted to apologize for the other day when I… well, you know.”

Sam’s demeanor shifted instantly, his shoulders squaring up as he purposefully looked away from me. “You mean when you tried to cheat on your mate?” he replied in a harsh, but quiet tone so that Calum wouldn’t overhear us.

“Yes,” I nodded. “And I wanted you to know that he and I talked about it. Aboutallof it.”

There was a look of surprise on his face, but he just nodded. “So, he told you about what he did then?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re being honest with one another.”

“We had a lot to talk about.”

“I bet.”

“And we came to a conclusion.”

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