Page 278 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
Perry:You just have to trust, Len. Something will work out. If you’re supposed to be together, you’ll figure out a way to be together. Here, or somewhere else.
Brody:Just keep being your charming self. Show her what it feels like to be loved by YOU. You've got this, man. And you know we’re here for you if you need us.
Perry:Full stop.
Perry:Also, Lila says I smell like apples. It’s part of why she fell in love with me so fast.
Flint:I just threw up a little in my mouth.
Lennox:You guys are idiots.
Lennox:But also. Thanks.
Chapter Nineteen
Tatum
I am in lovewith Stonebrook farm.
Spring has finally sprung in the mountains, and I couldn’t be happier. Flowers are blooming, trees are greening, temperatures are warming, and I am doinglotsof kissing.
In the pantry? Check.
The walk-in fridge? Check.
My (finally repaired!) office? Check.
The storage room? The gazebo outside? The outside landing? Check, check, and check.
We finally had the promised dinner at Lennox’s place, which was definitely a date since it involved kissing during all stages. Before dinner. During dinner.After dinner.
We’ve also had coffee at my place. Breakfast in the apple orchard. We’ve even had lunch with his parents.
We’ve exchanged a billion text messages, including countless trivia questions that I have gotten right at least ninety percent of the time. We’ve even managed to squeeze in a movie, a scheduling miracle that proved totally pointless because we both fell asleep halfway through.
But my favorite place to be with Lennox is in his restaurant kitchen after hours. Preferably while he’s cooking something.
Tonight, he’s working on a new special for Hawthorne’s menu, so I’ve turned cooking into a spectator sport, and taken a seat on the counter to watch while he creates.
We’reweeksinto whatever this thing is between us, and let me tell you, I still haven’t gotten tired of the view.
Lennox already lost his chef’s coat at the end of his dinner service, so he’s cooking in a t-shirt, the sleeves snug around his sculpted biceps, and he’s wearing a striped chef’s apron around his waist.
“Okay, try it now,” Lennox says, lifting his spoon to my lips. He’s been trying to perfect a sauce for a new salmon dish for the last half hour, not that I have any complaints. I could watch him do this all night long.
I taste the sauce, the flavor bright and bold as it hits my tongue. “Wait, where’s the lemon?” I ask.
“Gone,” he says, his eyes sparkling.
“This is sweeter. And better.” I lick the last few drops off the spoon, finally catching the full flavor profile. “You went with the mango.”
He grins. “It works, right?”
I nod. “It definitely works. So, a creme fraiche sweetened with mango puree? Will that be enough?”
“Not quite, I don’t think. I want to use fresh mango in the dish, too. Maybe a chutney of some kind. Are you hungry? I think I’m ready to put it all together.”
I stifle a yawn. “It’s after midnight, but sure. I’m hungry.”
