Page 98 of Cakes for the Grump

“Conceptually?”

He is choosing his words carefully, but, at length, says, “I like you sitting there, watching me. I like the idea of making you food, hoping you’ll enjoy it. For all those meals you’ve made me, I’m finding myself wanting to cook those back for you to enjoy.”

He’s not joking. He’s being completely sincere.

Disorienting warmth swells in my chest. “I didn’t make any of those meals to be repaid.”

“All the same, I want to see you eat something I’ve made for you. More than once. More than tonight.”

That’s—longevity. In what way does he really mean?

“You’ve run out of wine,” observes Luke. He passes me his own glass, only half-drunk. “I’ve got to drive us home afterward.”

“If you insist.” Putting my lips where his have touched is a peculiar sensation. My tongue tastes the area.

Verity comes back to the front of the class. “Let your tomatoes simmer in the sauce. Meanwhile, it’s time to roll out the pasta dough. This will take some room, so those who have left their respective spots”—she aims a particularly direct look at me—“return to them.”

Before I can get down myself, Luke lifts me off the counter and puts me right on my feet. I stumble a bit.

His hand cups my elbow. “Careful, darling.”

Darling, darling, darling?—

Each time he uses that endearment, a part of my brain goes weak. To combat this effect, I need to find my own name for him. Something to get inside his head. Feeling blanketed in wine-induced floatiness, it takes a while for me to run through some options.

In the meantime, Luke uses a pasta roller to slice his dough into linguine strands. He finishes his sauce, and uses the chiffonadetechnique to stack, roll, and slice a cylinder of basil into thin strips. Verity walks between cooking stations to make sure everyone is keeping up. Under her supervision, the meals are pulled together.

The elderly couple starts eating first. Under their table, the woman’s shoe is toed off. She strokes the inside of her partner’s leg with her feet. The young couple are asking Verity for a second bottle of wine.

Luke brings our dinner over. “Are you impressed?”

“You are magnificent, sweetling. If I didn’t witness this with my own eyes, sweetling, I would not have believed it to happen.”

“Sweetling?”Luke takes back his wineglass and chugs the last bit. “That’s what you choose? Christ, vaporize me. I don’t want to exist in this mortal world anymore.”

Lowering my head, I smell the plate of pasta. The aroma is delicious in itself. “Actually, not being funny anymore… This is sweet. Really. I don’t remember the last time someone has cooked for me like this. I don’t think it’s ever happened, truthfully. I’ve always gone to the kitchen and done it myself. Not out of any gendered roles, but because it’s my profession so it’s been assumed I’ll do it because I love it. Which I do. And I’ve always been quick to place myself there too. It’s my love language to cook for others, I suppose. What I can offer someone else. But this—this has been nice. Sweet. Thank you.”

I stuff my mouth with some pasta. That was a lot of talking.

“Compliment each other,” Verity says from the background somewhere. “Go deeper than you ever have. That’s the point of this whole class!”

Luke and I stare at each other, and my pulse goes up again. This is bad, because I am not feeling like it is pretend. I open my mouth to say something silly, something nonsensical, so we can center ourselves again, but Luke speaks first. “What you offer is vastly unquantifiable.”

I gulp. “You have qualities, too. I’m glad you called me into your office to yell at me.”

“It’s been an adventure, and I wouldn’t want to take it with anything else.”

“Considering I’m the one tolerating your abhorrently grumpy nature. same. Though you’ve been smiling a lot tonight. Enough to ruin your reputation, I must say.”

“That can’t happen. I must frown.”

“You aren’t doing it properly.” I place a thumb on the edge of his mouth and tug it down myself.

His eyes flash in amusement. I’m sure mine do too, because I certainly feel airy laughter bubbling inside me. His lip is so soft. I nudge it again. Then move across the bottom.

He captures it—and nibbles.

Instantly, heat pools between my legs. There is imminent throbbing.