Page 33

“No, sir. It’s…dinner…”
That sounded ominous.
“What’s wrong with dinner?” I asked when Wilkins seemed reluctant to continue.
The old butler’s frown deepened, drawing even more wrinkles across his face. His voice dipped to a whisper, as if he were afraid of Sebastian overhearing him. “It’s just that the master wanted to cook dinner himself as a surprise for you, but I don’t believe he’s attempted to cook anything in at least ten years. I don’t think things are going well in the kitchen. He’s already sent the cook away for a night out, and he’s banned me from meddling directly.”
“Ahhhh…” As problems went, this one was at least cute, and one that I thought I could solve with minimal fuss.
“He’s also said that I have the rest of the night off after I get you settled. I think he is determined to have the house to himself.”
I could imagine the dirty things that were running through that deviant’s mind.
“Got it. Why don’t you point me toward the kitchen, and you make a hasty retreat?” I suggested. I’d either be able to helpSebastian cook, or we’d end up ordering a pizza. Both options were fine with me.
“Are you sure, Mr. Graham?”
“Definitely. I’m quite experienced at getting Sebastian out of trouble. This will be nothing new.”
Except this was a lot more trouble than I had been expecting.
At least the kitchen wasn’t on fire when I arrived, just filled with smoke.
“Oh…wow…” might have slipped out as I stepped into the kitchen. It was a glorious thing of broad marble countertops, white cabinets, and shining appliances, but I barely noticed it as smoke clogged the air, something bubbled over in a large pot, and there was something black in a pan on the counter.
“Hey! What are you doing in here?” Sebastian cried out.
“Hoping to save you from a visit from the fire department.”
Sebastian’s wide shoulders slumped, and he hung his head. “This…this is harder than I’d thought it would be.”
“I can see that.”
I swooped in and started turning off burners as I attempted to assess what he’d been trying to make. It looked like spaghetti, but the meatballs in the frying pan were tiny black balls, and the pot he’d selected for the spaghetti made it appear as if he were planning to feed an entire army. There was an empty box of noodles next to the stove.
Sebastian groaned and leaned against the center island, glaring at the stove as if it were to blame for his cooking fail. “I don’t understand how this went so wrong.”
“Did you follow the instructions?”
“I tried, but things were getting done slower or faster than they were supposed to, so I had to tweak the temperature on the other things to get them to speed up, and then there was all this smoke, and the meatballs turned black on the outside but were raw on the inside.”
There was something adorable about this so-called titan of industry standing in the kitchen in his black apron, hair askew and a lost expression on his face. Sebastian walked into every situation with this unshakable air of confidence and control, but right now, this man was shook, and I couldn’t take it.
He glanced at me, and a crooked smile formed. “I guess I’m not selling myself too well right now as someone who can take care of you.”
“No, dearest. You are not a cook.” I crossed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his waist. “But thankfully, you are very good at taking care of people in other ways.”
Sebastian’s face lit up. My heart skipped, and my fingers twisted in his shirt. “You called me dearest,” he whispered.
Oh, shit!I had. The word had slipped out. My cheeks burned, and I ducked my head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“No, no. You can’t take it back. I love it.” His arms closed, pulling me. He dipped his head, brushing a little kiss to my temple, then cheek, working his way to my lips. When our mouths met, it was in a series of small kisses, as if he were taking tiny sips, savoring the taste of me.
As his tongue slipped inside, I pulled away with a smirk. If we went down this route, he’d just end up fucking me on the counter amidst the burned food. We needed to at least have the pretense of a proper date.
“So, how about we see what we can salvage of this dinner?” I announced, turning to the stove. The answer to my question was…none of it.
Sebastian stood next to me with his hands on his hips. “I should have let Carol cook. She warned me I was in over my head, but I wanted to impress you. At least I was smart enough to let her make dessert.”