Page 24 of Arctic Panda's Secret Mate
“I’ll wash,” Tristan offered. “You know where everything goes.”
“Do I ever…” Haisley snorted, and Tristan had to laugh with her until the sound of a door shutting somewhere out in the chalet silenced them both.
20
HAISLEY
Haisley could not remember the last time she’d had so much fun in the kitchen. Dorothy was a wonderful friend, but rather on the dour side. Tristan was funny and sexy, and he was flatteringly interested in her.
So Haisley was bitterly disappointed when footsteps followed the distant sound of the door. “I should go,” she whispered, putting the measuring cups in Tristan’s bowl.
“Do you have to?” Tristan whispered back.
“I’m not supposed to be here. The contract was very specific.”
“What about the cookies?”
“Take them out when the timer goes off!”
Haisley scampered to the dining room just as the timer began to beep, but she didn’t go any further, hiding in the darkness out of sight. Her retreat was covered by the clatter of Tristan taking the tray out of the oven.
“What are you doing up, Tristan? And what is that I’m smelling?” The chef’s voice was booming compared to her quiet conversation with Tristan, and Haisley told herself not to be annoyed.
“Carob cookies,” Tristan explained. “I…uh…found a recipe.” Haisley’s binder was still open on the counter—as were the last few bites of her sandwich. A sandwich withmeatin it. Haisley held her breath.
“Those don’t look fully cooked.”
“They cook a little bit more after you take them out,” Tristan said firmly. “They still have to sit for a few minutes.”
“Very good,” the chef said without affront. “I realized that I forgot to take bread dough out for tomorrow.” He bustled to the freezer and Haisley risked a quick peek into the kitchen.
The chef was not at all the short king she had imagined. He was a mountain of a man, with arms like hams. His face was turned away, but there was a little white in his short-cropped hair.
Haisley mixed dozens of loaves worth of dough at once and left them in the freezer in order to have daily fresh bread. Chef perused her carefully-labeled packages and selected three of them, transferring them to the fridge as Haisley ducked back into the dining room. “They’ll be thawed and ready to bake for lunch, at least,” Chef said. “I’ll make oven pancakes for breakfast.”
Haisley wished she could ask for his recipe; that was something she’d never made before.
“Are these going to be Christmas gifts?” the big man asked Tristan.
“I was thinking about it,” Tristan said. “Would you like to try one? I don’t know if they’re ready yet.”
“‘The people who give you their food, give you their heart!’” Chef quoted. “Cesar Chavez. A civil rights activist with an understanding of the importance of nourishment. I would be honored to test one.”
Haisley smiled foolishly. She’d always loved that quote.Dorothy had made her a cross-stitch of it that she had hanging in her bedroom. It was only not up in the kitchen because she wanted everything there to be easy to clean.
She listened avidly as they tried the soft cookies.
“Mm!” Tristan said. “Not bad!”
“Exquisite!” Chef agreed. “You were quite correct about pulling them out. What a lovely, subtle flavor. Almost earthy! What a pair with the maple. I have never cooked with carob, I must add it to my repertoire immediately!”
Haisley was pleased to her toes and wished she could be out there accepting her share of the praise.
“You are a man of many surprises, Tristan,” Chef said kindly. “I had no idea you were a baker as well as a builder!”
Haisley imagined Tristan squirming uncomfortably and willed him not to fold and betray her.
“It is the quality of the recipe,” he said quietly. “I can take very little credit.”
