Page 11 of Dumping the Puck (Men of Havoc #4)

Day 3: Cooking Class

Go to the hotel restaurant, you will be taking a cooking class with Chef Ricci. You’ll be making your own pasta al limone with scialatielli pasta, and your choice of seafood, fresh mozzarella, and then the signature dessert of the Amalfi Coast — delizia al limone, lemon delight.

You will then be served this dish, if you don’t fuck it up, for dinner on your private terrace overlooking the sea with chilled limoncello.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. I repeat for maybe the hundredth time today.

I’m only slightly freaking out that I had sex with Kayce Bicknelle last night. The man that I’ve had spicy dreams about for most of my adult life. The brother of my ex-fiancé.

Ugh, what did I do?

“You can stop overthinking it, June.” Kayce interrupts my thoughts as we walk to the restaurant on the hotel’s site.

“What? No! I am not overthinking,” I answer too quickly.

“Sure.” He chuckles. “I’m just saying there’s no need to overthink. We’re just being , remember?” He nudges me with his shoulder before lacing his hand with mine.

“Buongiorno, Benvenuto!” We’re greeted as soon as we step into the restaurant. “I’m Capocuoco Ricci, and I am thrilled to teach you how to make our signature dish, pasta al limone!”

He gestures us back to the kitchen where we see a table full of ingredients. Flour, milk, fresh parmigiano, olive oil, basil, butter, and lemons fill the space in the cutest little Italian pottery dishes. I make a mental note to ask Kayce if we can go to the markets one day and find some. I wonder if they can ship to Texas. Or if we’re taking the private jet home and I can have them shipped to the hangar?

“Today, you get to make your own pasta. All the ingredients are here.” He slides the flour, milk, basil, and parmigiano to us. “I will make it first, showing you, then you can make it on your own together.” He smiles at us as he starts to pour flour out.

Both of us watch, captivated, as his hands move seamlessly with the food and tools. When he finishes we are set on our own and he walks away giving us our space to create and have time together.

Our first step is to chop the fresh basil leaves. Kayce grabs a knife, holding the basil how capocuoco showed us. His biceps bulge in the tee as he chops.

“You can stop drooling, June.” A smirk is on his face, but he only watches me from the corner of his eye.

“I wasn’t.” I start with my own basil, ignoring him. He chuckles next to me.

Once our basil is chopped, I grab the flour and measure out how much I need, and how much Kayce will need. I lean over into his space to pour out his measurement on the table, grazing his arm with mine.

He repeats the gesture with the milk, only he purposely grazes my breast as he reaches over me making me suck in a breath.

As I roll the mound of flour into the milk, mixing it, I bump his hip with mine, trying to throw off his concentration. Even though we aren’t speaking, or even touching, the tension is so high between us. Before I mix my hands fully in the pasta mixture I grab the chopped up basil, sprinkling some into Kayce’s pile after mine.

He reaches out, gripping my wrist and pulling me to him. He wraps his arms around me and grabs my ass cheeks to pull me to him, taking my mouth with his.

The chef clears his throat bringing us back to the present, and reminding us that we aren’t in fact alone. When I turn back around, Kayce laughs that sexy, deep laugh. Only it’s not as sexy when it’s directed at me.

“What is so dang funny?”

“You have two perfect white handprints on your black dress,” he says through laughter.

I turn to see if I can see my own ass and of course, he’s right there are two prints right on my cheeks.

“Kayce! You better get this off!” I stick my ass out at him for him to wipe away. But then he holds up his hands to show that he still has flour on his hands, so I’m stuck with two white handprints on me. “Ugh. You’re the worst!” I flick some flour at him in retaliation.

But again, a throat clears letting us know that this is unacceptable in his kitchen. And I don’t want to be disrespectful so I turn back to cooking.

Under the watchful eye of Capocuoco Ricci we hang our pasta to dry while he shows us how to fill cannolis before we cook the pasta. The sweetened ricotta filled dessert is one of my favorites. My mouth is watering and I want to eat dessert before dinner.

“You are very good at this.” The chef nods at me and my technique.

His praise makes me blush. Compliments are something I’m wholly uncomfortable with, having never received many in my lifetime, and even less with Cameron. I don’t know how to handle these situations. Criticism, however, is what I know. My comfort blanket.

Whether it’s on purpose to draw attention away from me or not, the tip from Kayce’s pastry bag shoots out across the table. He does not get a compliment. And when I look at his cannolis I can see why. His look like a gorilla filled them with two left thumbs. Each pastry shell is covered in splotches of cream, as well as the plate and table. The sight has a giggle bubbling up.

“Okay, I think maybe you should stick to the cooking, yeah?” Capocuoco Ricci takes the pastry bag from Kayce’s hands, setting it off to the side along with his cannolis.

We move back to the table where we started making pasta that has magically been cleaned and hot plates with pans have been placed there instead.

This time, we follow the chef’s steps, adding pats of butter first, followed by sliced garlic, and olive oil. Once that’s browned we add in our pasta, followed by parmigiano, and then it’s pulled from the heat to add a bit of lemon juice and zest.

“Excellent! Please go have a seat, and we will serve you your final dish. Once you are done, you may go back to your room and we will deliver your desserts and chilled limoncello.” He points us to a small table by the window overlooking the garden.

“This is so romantic. Imagine if we were here for our real honeymoon?” I ask wistfully as I stare out at the blooming gardens.

“I think it’s perfect, just being here with you.” Kayce reaches across the table to take my hands in his.

We’re interrupted by a waiter bringing us our food.

“Grazie.”

We eat in silence for a few moments, and I’m truly shocked that I made this dish. It’s so delicious, and it wasn’t hard at all. I’m excited to add this to my menu back home. Although, I’m sure that food just generally tastes better in Italy.

“Want to try it? I think he gave me the one you made.” Kayce holds out his fork with a swirl of pasta on it.

“No way they switched it. This one is delicious too.” I hold out my own for him, and we both feed each other like a scene from Lady and the Tramp. Minus the noodle kiss in the middle of the table.

I moan. His is better than mine.

“Okay, you’re in charge of making this every week for me.” I reach my fork over to get more pasta off his plate when he switches our plates. “What’d you do that for?”

“You like mine better?” I nod my head. “Then you get mine. Because fuck if it doesn’t do something for me knowing that you like my food.”

I’m not going to argue with that so I slide my dish the rest of the way across the table and happily eat my dinner.

“So, speaking of when we’re back, what is your plan?” he asks.

“My plan?” I raise a brow.

“Yeah, you had a condo with Cameron. I can’t imagine he’s going to make any of that easy for you.”

My face drops. He definitely isn’t going to make any of that easy. And where the hell do I go when I get home?

“Hey, hey, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have ruined the night by bringing that up. You can always stay with me. I’ll take care of you, June.”

I sniffle back the tears, nodding my head. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that. And now I feel a little reckless. I just ran away without a plan.”

“Nope. It’s on me. I shouldn’t have asked you that right now. We still have so many days to enjoy ourselves before you even need to think about it.”

I nod again, shoving pasta in my mouth to keep the tears at bay.

I don’t trust myself to speak without letting the dam go on my sobs.

Chilled limoncello and our desserts were waiting on a room service cart when we got back to our room. We took everything out to the patio so we can enjoy a night out under the stars.

I dig into my delizia al limone first, the signature dessert of the Amalfi Coast. Moaning as the sponge cake dissolves on my tongue.

I scoop some more cake onto the spoon, delivering it to Kayce’s lips, and watching as his lips wrap around the spoon and his tongue darts out to catch the crumb falling. Why is it so sexy to watch him eat?

“Mmm. I don’t know what’s better: my amazing cannolis or this.”

“Definitely your cannolis,” I answer, chuckling. We both lean back in our chairs, letting the quiet night wash over us.

Sitting under the stars reminds me of the nights we shared in high school when we’d sneak out to the fields together to watch for comets or meteors. We’d play truth or dare and sneak some of Mr. Bicknelle’s beer.

“You remember sitting out in the fields under the stars?” I reminisce.

“Hell yeah, truth or dare was always my favorite. I used to wish you’d dare me to kiss you, but you never did.” A big smile takes over his face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. My crush started long before then.” He reaches out to take another sip of limoncello.

I stand, walking over and straddling Kayce’s lap. I bring my lips a breath away from his. “I dare you to kiss me, Johnny.”

His lips take mine as his hands grip my hips, holding me in place. The kiss is desperate, needy. Years of pent up feelings are being thrown into this kiss. And suddenly it feels like too much, like it’s going to suffocate me.

I pull back breathless. His eyebrows furrow as he takes me in.

“I don’t think the dare would have gone like that back then.” I laugh trying to lighten the mood.

“You know, I’m still waiting for you to skinny dip. I dared you, and you never did it, so technically you owe me.”

I throw my head back laughing. “I think there’s a statute of limitations on dares.”

“Well how about I dare you to skinny dip right now.” His eyes darken with heat.

I won’t respond, no, I have a much better idea. I slide off his lap, standing between him and the pool. I slip the straps of my dress off my shoulders one at a time. As it pools at my feet, he sits upright in the chair, raptured by my movements. It gives me a confidence boost that I need in this moment after the heavy kiss.

Reaching back, I unhook my bra, and shrug it off, letting it pool at my feet along with the dress. Now I’m down to just my panties. Kayce is practically drooling as he watches. I pause to take in his face. Something I want to commit to memory for when we’re home and this fantasy is over.

I turn to face the pool, continuing on with my striptease while I secretly try to keep my tears at bay. I bend over, popping my ass out for him while I pull the panties down my legs by hooking them in my thumbs. I snap back up, stepping out and walking toward the pool. I hear his chair scrape across the patio and know he’s coming.

Fuck, where are these emotions coming from?

The tears sting the back of my eyes. Thinking about all the time wasted, our time coming to an end, and all of this bringing up feelings about how I just up and left his brother, I’m struggling and need to put on a brave face.

I take a deep breath and begin my descent into the infinity pool. Determined not to ruin our night.

Only he doesn’t join me. His ringtone blares from the room, breaking any kind of moment we were having.

“Shit.” I turn to see him, running his hands over his face. “That’s Charley’s ringtone. She wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t an emergency right now. I’m so sorry. Don’t move!”

He rushes into the room, taking the call. I feel like I can breathe for a minute and get myself under control before he comes back.

I walk over to the edge of the pool, overlooking the sea under the moonlight. I rest my arms on the edge, and lay my chin on my forearms.

How did I let myself get here? I got engaged to a man I didn’t love, for what? Because I was settling, knowing, Kayce, the man I do love didn’t want me? But now, I’m not so sure that’s true. And it makes me so angry that Cameron did know, that he let us waste so many fucking years. That he’s so damn selfish he’d even propose, trapping me in a loveless marriage.

I’m angry with myself too. For letting myself be treated that way. After high school, I vowed to not let anyone treat me the way my parents did, that I’d never end up with someone like my father, and I did just that. I became my mother.

I’m so fucking weak, I don’t deserve Kayce. I ruined anything we could have had years ago because I was too chickenshit to just tell him that I love him. I wanted him to fight for me, to want me. But I never stopped to think he might want the same.

Footsteps sound behind me, followed by the sound of a zipper, and clothes hitting the patio. Then he enters the water and starts to wade over behind me.