Page 53 of Better Luck Next Time

“Well?” he asked as he followed her in. “What do you think?”

She shrugged but let a smile slip through. “It’ll do.” It pleased her to think of him living here—stretched out on the sofa, watching a movie or a game. Cooking in the kitchen. Hanging out with friends. But then it occurred to her that he would have brought his old girlfriends here too, and a sudden stab of jealousy caught her by surprise. She wasn’t typically a jealous person, but she didn’t like the thought of another woman with Finn.

“Can I see upstairs?” she asked, her voice lower than before, and she wished she could hit rewind and say it more playfully. She could see that Finn was reading all kinds of things into her husky tone, and the way he hesitated suggested they weren’t entirely pleasant thoughts.

The sting of rejection stole her breath, but she told herself that it wasn’t that he wasn’t interested—he obviously was—but something was holding him back.

“On second thought,” she said, opening the refrigerator door. “I’m hungry.”

“You won’t find much in there, sad to say, but we can order something.”

He was right. All she found was a half-gallon of skim milk, a nearly empty jar of pickles, a carton of eggs, and a couple of takeout containers.

“Dottie doesn’t bring you food?” she asked in disbelief.

He shrugged. “She doesn’t have a key.” A smile tugged at his mouth. “Besides, she’s too busy feeding all of you ingrates.”

“From the bare refrigerator, I take it you don’t cook much?”

“I can cook the basics.”

“Like eggs?” she teased.

“Scrambled eggs are easy.”

“Finn,” she said, shaking her head. “You’re letting this gorgeous kitchen go towaste. I’m going to make you dinner.”

“You don’t have to do that, Adalia,” he protested, but she noticed the gleam in his eyes. The thought pleased him.

“Don’t you worry,” she said. “This won’t be me cooking while you watch a college football game on TV. You’re helping.”

He grimaced. “I have to warn you that I don’t know the first thing about cooking.”

“So you say, but I’m a genius, and I’m going to teach you. The real question is what to make?”

They settled on eggplant parmesan with roasted broccoli and a side salad with homemade vinaigrette dressing. Unfortunately, he didn’t have any of the ingredients or most of the basic kitchen equipment. Adalia offered to take care of the equipment by picking some up from her house, but Finn insisted he wanted his own stuff.

“So we’ll have them the next time we cook,” he said.

Adalia ignored the flutter in her stomach at the thought of cooking with him again.

Don’t get ahead of yourself.

So they made a Target run, buying Finn a cartful of kitchen essentials, from measuring cups to a decent set of pots and pans. She felt guilty when she saw the total, but he waved it off as if it were nothing and told her he’d been wanting to fill his cabinets with more than plates and glasses and the odd serving dish he could fit into his microwave, but he hadn’t known what to buy.

They hit the grocery store next and got spices and pantry essentials as well as the ingredients for their meal and some extras. He picked out a couple of bottles of wine, and they checked out and headed back to his place.

Finn hadn’t lied about not knowing how to cook, but he was a fast and eager learner.

“Maybe you should be a chef,” she teased.

“I considered buying a restaurant once, before I met River, but I wasn’t convinced it would pay off in the end,” he said as he chopped broccoli. He paused mid-chop, giving her a sheepish look. “I didn’t mean that to sound so pretentious.”

“You weren’t being pretentious. You were stating a fact.” She hated that he didn’t feel like he could be himself with her, that he had to watch his words, and she was determined to change that. “So I guess that means you don’t want to be a chef?”

“’Fraid not. They work grueling hours and have to absolutely love cooking food.”

“Are you saying you aren’t enjoying cooking with me?” she teased.

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