Page 38 of Wayfinder
I was far from a vestal virgin, and I’d had more than my share of hook-ups. I didn’t think there was anything casual about what happened with Jutuk. The way his hands caressed my skin, and his lips pressed against mine spoke of tenderness and genuine affection. I’d responded to him more than any other man... wanted him more, too. The desire just to be in his presence was a constant gnawing ache.
I wasn’t ready to pick out a china pattern just yet. Of course, dishes had never been my thing. A good set of kitchen knives, maybe.
I glanced down at the paper, wadding it into a ball with a small chuckle. I’d drawn too many hearts to leave any room to write a menu.
Seriously, what was wrong with me?
Sure, I had my brief fantasized happily ever after when I was with Donovan, but that turned out to be a catastrophic disaster. I tried dating other people—God knows the Outlander gals set me up enough—but the memory of having my heart scorched still lingered like a warning bell. I couldn’t bring myself to give anyone that kind of power over my emotions ever again.
Until Jutuk.
I trusted him not only to protect my body from harm... I trusted him with my heart. Every time he looked at me with those golden eyes, I felt the walls around my heart crumble to dust. He had a way of making me feel safe and valued, unlike Donovan, who left behind broken shards of my heart and spirit in his wake. With Jutuk, I didn’t fear being hurt, used, or belittled. All I felt was safety and acceptance—and cherished.
I liked Jutuk... alot.Enough to hope that whatever this was building between us didn’t end once we made it off the space station. Enough to hope that it was something wonderful and lasting. Enough to hope.
The door swung open, and I jumped, excitement slinging my heart into my throat. Only for it to crash into my stomach a moment later when Deema entered, apologizing for forgetting her wrap.
I tried concentrating on the menu, an attempt at a distraction to keep from leaving the kitchen to search for Jutuk.
I still technically belonged to the Baron, so I couldn’t go bopping all over the space station as I pleased. Yet, if I had to guess, I’d bet Jutuk was with his sister, appraising her of the contest’s events, mainly the subterfuge with the animals. After that, he’d find me, and we’d....
Get a grip, Pearl!
I was a freaking three-star Michelin chef who could add Best Chef in the Universe to my list of accolades.Suck it, Gordan Ramsey.But if I didn’t get my head out of the clouds and onto the menu, I’d find myself slinging hash at the alien version of Waffle House.
It had to be special... like a state dinner, and I’d cooked plenty of those. Most times, I’d start off with something light, like a salad, but lettuce didn’t exist in space. Tomatoes did... or at least the next best thing. The Baron promised he’d obtain any ingredient I needed. It might take several pounds of blue rajce fruits, but along with crackers crafted from alien flour, it might make a decent tomato Crostini.
For the main menu, behia was the most plentiful meat around. Plus, I already knew how well it lent itself to my alien version of boeuf bourguignon. For side dishes, if I could get ahold of the right spices, I could turn some root vegetables into a space version of roasted, mashed potatoes and perhaps some sauteed greens. If I could find greens that didn’t taste like the ass-end of spinach.
Dessert was the problem. In my limited experience, aliens didn’t like sweets. But it was the Duke’s birthday, and there’s noway in hell I’d cook a birthday dinner without a birthday cake. But without yeast, I was at a loss. I’d already tried brewing my own leaven, trying to make a version of a sourdough starter, but that hadn’t worked out too well. I’d have to ponder the cake issue further.
“Hey.”
After being almost frantic to see him again, I was so engrossed in my menu that I didn’t notice him enter.
“Hey, yourself.” I glanced up, letting the giddy smile plaster over my face I straightened my shoulders for the sole purpose of highlighting my tits. Based on experience, Jutuk liked my tits.
The faint curve of his lips was the only indication that Jutuk liked what he saw. I’d gone back to wearing my standard chef’s uniform. However, due to my tendency to get overheated when in the thrall of creating a menu, I’d left my jacket unbuttoned, revealing the tank top underneath. I was braless, of course. While the alien version of panties proved bearable, bras looked and felt like a medieval torture contraption.
“How was the Baron?”
Jutuk’s eyes never left me as he wove slowly through the kitchen, meandering, almost like he was purposefully prolonging the moment until we touched again.
“Obnoxiously proud,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
“You are very impressive.” Jutuk smiled, and I felt a rush of moisture, which made my alien panties feel rather restrictive.
“You, sweet talker, you.” I gave my best impression of Scarlett O’Hara.
Jutuk stopped a few feet away, seemingly curious about the pile of vegetables lying on the counter. “I talked to Jala and Praxxan about what happened with the animals. Praxxan’s brother Siemba is going to inquire if any of his people have heard anything regarding who’s behind the tampering.”
“Okay.” Seriously. Why didn’t he just come over here and kiss me? “Did your sister tell you the guest list for the birthday dinner is over two hundred now?”
Jutuk’s golden eyes widened in shock. “That’s good. It means the corridors will be less populated when we escape.”
I took a step forward, unable to resist his magnetic pull any longer. “What exactly is your plan for escape?”
Jutuk moved an inch closer, and my body throbbed with impatience.
