Page 40 of Finding Forgiveness
“I’ve got it,” I sneer, snatching the ties from his hands.
He gives me a surprised look, like he’s just seen me for the first time. We may not be a couple, but he doesn’t know that.
“Right,” he says, clearing his throat.
He moves back to the front of the class, where he better stay. I roughly tug on the two ties before fastening them around her tiny waist. When I’m done, I look up and find Cassie staring at me over her shoulder. There is a pink hue on her cheeks. Is she embarrassed about the way I just acted?
“I’m sorry,” I grumble.
“Don’t be,” she replies, giving me a sweet smile.
“We are going to start with the vegetables,” the dick says, holding up a carrot. “Grab the vegetable peeler out of your kit.” He holds one high in the air. “It looks like this.”
That earns him another eye roll. I can’t cook to save my life, but even I know what a vegetable peeler looks like.
Although our lesson got off to a rough start, by the time I leave with two containers balancing in my hand—the contents being the beef stir-fries we just made—I’m actually smiling. Who knew that cooking something with your own two hands could be so gratifying?
Thankfully, my little run-in with the douche at the beginning of the class was enough to keep him at bay for the remainder of the lesson. Every time I caught him looking at Cass, he quickly diverted his gaze.Pussy.
He even complimented me on what he called myexcellent knife skills. When he lifted his hand for a high-five, I ignored him. He’s lucky I didn’t high-five his face.
“Oh my God,” Cassie squeals when we push through the front doors and step out onto the sidewalk. “Can you believe we cooked something? We are bona fide chefs now, Con.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, Cass,” I say, chuckling. “We cooked one meal with step-by-step instructions.”
“Ugh,” she groans, nudging me. “We’re chefs and nothing you can say will change my mind. Gordon Ramsay better watch out … I’m coming for him.”
I shake my head in amusement as I use my free hand to dig in my pocket for my car keys. She has the sweetest grin on her face as I open the passenger door so she can seat herself inside. It’s hard to believe we nearly lost her a few weeks ago. She seems to be coming along in leaps and bounds, and I can only hope this continues.
“Five thousand dollars,” I shout the moment Cassandra walks through the front door. “Where did you get that kind of money from?”
I had my assistant look up the cost of our cooking course online today, and to say I was pissed when she told me how much Cassandra had paid would be an understatement.
“Ugh,” she groans, dropping her bag on the dining room table. “Have you been spying on me, Maloney?”
“I wouldn’t call it spying.”
“Then what would you call it?”
“A simple internet search.”
“It’s been a long day, and I don’t appreciate coming home to your bitching.”
“It’s a lot of money to outlay when you’re still trying to find your feet.”
She flicks her hand dismissing me. “I used some of the money my dad gave me in Melbourne. Besides, you get what you pay for in this world, and greatness doesn’t come cheap.”
Her comment has my lips thinning. “There was nothing great about that douchebag … he was a creep.”
She rolls her eyes as she crosses the room, flopping down on the sofa beside me. “I mean us, Con … what we cooked was great.”
“It was a basic stir-fry, Cass, not a Michelin star worthy dish.”
She bends over to slip her shoes off. “My feet are killing me,” she groans, swinging her legs up and laying them across my lap. My hands automatically reach for the one closest to me, digging the pad of my thumb into the ball of her foot. “Oh, God,” she moans, flopping back onto one of the throw cushions. “That feels amazing.”
“Stop straying off topic … I’m cranky with you.”
“I’m sorry, did you say something? I can’t think straight right now.”
