Page 16 of Fight For Us
“Sure.” She studied my movements, soaking in everything as I arranged the ingredients.
“Perfect. First, we’re going to dice these veggies.” I grabbed one of my knives and arranged the pre-cut strips onto the cutting board in front of us. “Come closer, Tiger. I won’t bite.”
With a cute glare, she stepped right beside me. “Watch how I cut these. You’ll want them to be this size so they cook evenly.” I handed her the knife and stepped aside so she could try.
“Like this?” She diced a few but they were not even close to being even.
Moving behind her, I reached around her side and grasped the knife handle over her hand, guiding her movement. “Slowly. Just like that.” She sucked in a breath but kept chopping until all the strips of peppers were diced. “Now the onion.” With her hand under mine, I steered her movements. Pressed against her back, I could smell her hair—so fucking sweet. I had to remind myself to concentrate, but it was increasingly tough while I was this close to her.
“How am I doing?” The usual edge to her tone was gone, replaced with a reserved hush.
“You’re doing so well,” I murmured close to her ear. “You’re a natural.”
At that point she could have continued on her own but I wasn’t ready to put space between us. Not when it felt so fucking good to have a reasonto touch her.
She let out a low laugh. “I wouldn’t call myself a natural, but at least I haven’t lost a finger yet.”
“I’d never let that happen,” I said. “As long as I’m here with you, you’re perfectly safe.”
We’d finished chopping the onion and I realized my hand was still grasping hers. I ran my thumb along the ridges of her knuckles before stepping aside to grab the eggs.
“I think I can do the egg part,” she said. “Same as with baking, right?”
Did I want to agree with her? Then I wouldn’t have a reason to help her closely again. “It’s similar, but I have a secret for fluffy eggs.”
With a hand on her hip, she asked, “Is that so?”
“I’d never lie to you, especially not about my culinary talents.” I smirked and stepped behind her again. “Let’s crack these eggs, and I’ll show you how I whisk them.”
My skin buzzed when our hands touched again. How long has it been since a woman affected me this way? With Olivia, it was more than simple attraction. I wanted to know everything about her, what made her happy, what worried her. To see her smile or hear her laugh physically affected me, and if I was being honest that scared me.Come on Wes, you’re teaching her how to cook eggs. It’s not like you’re marrying the woman.
That thought didn’t freak me out like it should have.
She picked up the whisk and dipped it into the bowl. “Let’s add some room temperature water. That’s great, Tiger. Keep going.”
With my palm wrapped around hers and my other hand holding the bowl, I had her boxed in. Was I imagining it, or did she push back against me slightly? Fuck, if she did, there’s no way she didn’t feel how hard she was making me.
We picked up the pace, whisking until the eggs were nice and frothy. “How’s this?” she asked, sounding breathless.
“Keep going, up and down. Just like that.” Christ, my voice just shook. I leaned in closer. One more small step and I’d be flush against her. The air between us was heavy and I swore her hand shook beneath mine.
“Hey, Chef, did you have something specific in mind for the soup? You think anyone’s gonna order soup in this heat anyway?” Thea called as she turned the corner. I bounced back and dropped my hands to my side. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize you were busy.” She smirked but didn’t turn away.
“No, it’s fine,” I stammered, trying to get control of myself. “You’re right, let’s cut soup from the specials. It’s too damn hot.”
“Got it,” Thea said before rounding the corner again.
I brought my attention back to Olivia, who was still whisking slowly. “Sorry. I think we’re ready to fire it up.”
When she faced me, I noticed her flushed cheeks and moist bottom lip, plump from being bitten. I had to stop looking at her lips or I’d never be able to finish this simple omelet.
“I think I’ll just watch that part,” she said.
I nodded with a grin and brought our thoroughly whisked eggs and other ingredients over to the burners, pulling down apan. She watched with rapt attention while I finished cooking the omelet and plated it beautifully.
“That looks amazing. I doubt I’ll be able to recreate it, but maybe I can try one day.”
“I know you can. You did so well.” She beamed while I handed her a fork. “Eat up. No one likes cold eggs.”
