Page 57 of Ace of Spades
Lies. I’d never cooked pancakes before. Scratch that—I’d never cooked breakfast before, save for the occasional bowl of cereal when Grace had the day off.
“Where’s the pancake mix?” I ask, moving to look through the cabinets.
“We don’t use box mix hun, we just make them from scratch. There
should be a recipe in that cookbook over there,” Rhonda tells me.
“Right,” I breathe.
I would figure it out. I refused to be bested by some damn pancakes.
Twenty minutes later, the ranch hands were beginning to pile in, and the pancakes had in fact defeated me. The batter had somehow remained chunky no matter how thoroughly I had mixed it, the first round of pancakes had essentially been sludge, and the second had stuck to the pan so badly that they had completely fallen apart when I tried to flip them.
Every inch of me felt like it was covered in flour, my frustrations were rising with every ruined batch, and I wanted to cry. Thankfully the other girls didn’t seem to notice, all of them too busy finishing up their own tasks.
“You’ve never cooked pancakes a day in your life, have you?”
I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice Weston behind me, his voice startling a yelp out of me. I turn to find him watching over my shoulder, his dark hair covered with a backwards ball cap and a black t-shirt stretching over his toned chest, an infuriating smirk on his smug face. My heart rate picks up at the sight of him, the reminder of what we did last night causing a blush to creep across my cheeks.
“I’ve got it under control,” I tell him.
That statement couldn’t be farther from the truth, but I refused to let him have the satisfaction of watching me fail at making breakfast.
“Well, in that case, I’ll leave you to it,” he says, turning to walk away. I look past him to the ranch hands piling into the table, then to where Rhonda, Chelsea, and Dakota were getting close to finishing up whatever they were cooking, my panic rising.
“Okay, fine,” I hiss, reaching out to grab his arm before he can get too far. “I just… I haven’t ever had to cook before, is that what you want to hear?” I whisper, quiet enough for nobody else to overhear.
“See, now was that so hard to admit?” he teases.
I roll my eyes, smacking him in the chest.
“Will you just help me, dammit?”
“Say please,”
“Please, Weston,” I ask, rolling my eyes.
“Well for starters, you need a different pan, and you need something to keep them from sticking—try butter or nonstick spray. I don’t think your batter is completely hopeless, but make your pancakes smaller so they cook more evenly. Nobody needs a pancake as big as their plate before going to work out in the sun.”
“Is that all?” I ask.
“Oh, and one last thing—you’ve got flour on your nose,” he tells me, a dimple appearing as his mouth quirks into a grin.
I hurry to wipe my face on my sleeve, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I try to make myself look slightly less of a hot mess.
“Thanks,” I tell him, opening the cabinet to reach for a clean pan.
“Oh, and Hailey?”
“Yes?”
He bends down to whisper in my ear so only I can hear, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Roll your eyes at me again and see what happens. I’d happily fuck that attitude out of you if that’s what you want.”
Chapter 19
HAILEY
