Page 89 of Culinary Chaos

“One.”

“And you have one.” Angelica nodded, stepping back and straightening her shoulders.

“Who? Rex?” Hope pointed toward her husband. “He won’t touch a pot unless it’s to clean it.”

“Me,” Angelica said firmly.

“You?” Hope pointed at her in complete shock. “You know how to cook?”

Angelica paled. “Do I need to know how to cook or do I need to know how to follow directions?”

“Can you follow directions?” Hope’s brow knit together, and her voice rose unreasonably. She knew it was a dig at Angelica, but she was being damn honest. She’d never seen that woman listen to anyone else. Not once. She always did what she wanted.

Angelica scoffed. “Do you want to make one thing go right or not?”

Hope’s lips parted, her jaw dropping. She looked Angelica over, the black shirt and black suit that she always wore, the heels that made her inches taller than she actually was, the perfectly done-up makeup and manicured nails. Did Angelica ever actually cook? Hope so rarely saw her eat that she was pretty sure that Angelica never did unless Hope brought her food, which would mean that she never cooked.

“I don’t…” Hope started and shook the thought from her head. “Yes. Fine. But you need your running shoes.”

Angelica put her hands on her hips and continued her stare. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

“Fine.”

Hope left the office. She stepped into the hallway, cold air rushing to her lungs. What the hell had she just agreed to?

She said nothing to anyone as she made her way back down to the kitchen and started preparing everything that she could. Angelica had no experience in the kitchen, so Hope was going to have to give her the simplest tasks possible and hope they worked out. This wouldn’t be a dinner filled with finesse, but it would be a dinner like they’d promised and had been paid for.

She had everything set out and ready to go when Angelica showed up. Angelica had pulled her hair back into a bun at the nape of her neck, her bangs loose on the right side, always in the way. Hope had to hold herself back when she looked at her. They now had an hour and a half to make thirty meals. Not impossible, but it certainly wasn’t going to be easy.

“I told Henry to play host. Hopefully he can’t screw that up.” Angelica stepped up to the sink and started washing her hands.

“Better out of my kitchen than in it. I’m too mad to deal with him right now. And the more I look at him the more pissed off I get.”

“Understandable.” Angelica dried her hands on a towel.

Hope still hadn’t moved. What the hell was she doing? She needed to move. She needed to be in charge. Pointing at the apricots, she said, “Peel those and dice them up into one-inch chunks.”

Angelica pursed her lips but said nothing as she snagged a knife and started to do as she was told. Hope focused on the duck and getting it onto a hot skillet. She’d finish baking them, but she needed to sear the top sides of them to start rendering the fat. She sliced hatch marks into the breasts and set them into the hot pan.

The sizzle was exactly what she needed to hear. Focusing on what she could manage to get done in the time that she could manage to do it, Hope ignored everything else that was happening in the kitchen until she had all thirty duck breasts prepped and ready to be slid into the oven.

The oven had barely kept temp the entire time she’d been there, so she wasn’t holding her breath on that one either. She would check it constantly, and if it was holding temp, then she’d lower it each time she opened the door to check, but hell if she wasn’t going to fuck up this meal.

With the meat in the oven, she straightened her back and looked over at Angelica. She was struggling. Massively. She’d barely gotten through the apricots, but Hope didn’t have a choice. She washed her hands and then pulled over a large pot and filled it with orange juice and sugar, starting the heat under it so she could reduce it down for the chutney she was making.

She didn’t say anything as she took another knife and started to mimic Angelica. Or rather, do it correctly and in half the time.

This was a mistake.

It was all a mistake.

“What are we making?” Angelica asked.

“Roasted duck with apricot chutney.” Hope glanced up at Angelica’s face.

She looked disgusted.

“Don’t take it that’s your cup of tea.”