Page 68 of Cakes for the Grump
He glances away.
“Anyway, I’ve always made my strongest meals when I cook with instinct, but this competition is messing with my head because I didn’t expect to make it to the second round, and now that I have, I want to do well enough to keep going.”
Correction: Ineedto. Especially now that I’ve got nowhere else to go. That reward money could solve my housing crisis. Not that I’m going to think about that right now. Have to concentrate on winning first. Have to pretend I’m not still unwell. Exhausted.
“And what would you cook if there were no guidelines?” asks Luke.
“Ah—”
“First thing that pops into your head.”
“Depends on?—”
“No, don’t overload that big brain of yours. What’s eggy and tasty?”
“—Egg bhurji, but that’s not innovative enough to stand out. The flavors are incredible, but I’m not inventing anything new.”
“Start with that. Worry about the twist after.”
“Easier said than done.”
“It will come to you.”
“Will it? Your faith in me is baseless. I make you the most boring of meals, by your own choice, of course. How do you knowit will come to me?”
He palms the cabinet above my head and looks down at me.
“You’ve just shown me charts, an essay on pricing and paragraphs of analysis getting perfectly inside the head of your customer. My faith in you isnotbaseless. In fact, I’m the one starting to see how overqualified you are to be making smoothies in the first place. So stop—don’t get in your head. Don’t doubt. Do your egg bhurji.”
His words are so pretty they’d make me swoon if I didn’t know any better. Not that my heart has gotten the memo. It’s racing.Badum, badum, badum…
I draw in a sharp breath, escape from under his shadow and get to cooking. Onions get finely diced, tomatoes are pulverized, and ginger, garlic, and green chilies are combined into a rough paste that I taste. Luke looks terrified and awed by my ability to tongue spice in itsraw form.
As for myassistant, he cracks the eggs.
“There is so much shell in there,” I point out. “Haven’t you done this before?”
“No.”
“Did your nannies teach you nothing growing up?”
“I’ve never liked eggs.” Luke drags out the shell bits with the corner of his finger. “You do that well, you know.”
“Do what well?”
“Disabuse me of the notion that I’m perfect. Most people don’t dare.”
“Everyone should know how to cook. What if you lost all your millions?”
“Billions, Rita.”
“Did thatreallyneed clarifying?”
“It did,” he says. “And to answer your earlier scenario, in the highly unlikely event that I lose everything I’ve contributed to the Abbot fortune, I’ll learn how to cook. Meanwhile, I don’t have time for anything beyond work. There’s always business waiting for me. I can’t stop. I can’t rest.”
But you are taking time out now… You are helping me when you don’t have to…
We work some more in an uninterrupted rhythm until Luke clears his throat. “While we did have help growing up, I admit, I’d rather they have not been there at all.”
