Page 6

Chapter six

A watched pot

Lorilei

My fingers tingle from his touch long after he leaves and his scent of leather and horse lingers.

Sophia never said her dad was that, well, intense.

With his eyes the color of wild honey and that dark stubble on his jaw that had a hint of gray near his ears, he makes me feel flustered.

Yea. That’s it. Like I’m in an elevator that dropped too quickly, it takes a little while for my heart to level out and my belly to not feel twisted.

He’s the boss, and he moves like one. I thought this kitchen was huge when I first came into it with its commercial fridge and separate walk-in freezer. There’s even a giant gas range and triple bay sink.

But, it all got incredibly tiny and suffocating the moment he appeared.

He owned the space, and pulled the air with it.

What was I doing?

Oh, yea. I was going to make a hot chocolate for Sophia. She insisted that the kitchen is fully stocked with what I’d need; it just took me a long time to find all of the parts and pieces.

I wonder if she’d mind if I rearranged where everything is for the summer. This system doesn’t make logical sense to me.

Well, I’m not really a cook though. Maybe it would be more logical to someone who did this all of the time?

Poop. I’m going to be doing this every day. I need a system that will work for me.

Balancing two steaming mugs, I cross the expansive living room towards Sophia’s room.

Except there’s a black and white dog growling at me in front of her door.

“Um. Good doggie?” As I say the words, the protective animal lets out a single loud bark. Backing slowly away, I set the cups down on an end table and pull my phone slowly out of my pocket, dialing Sophia.

“Lori? Did you get lost?” she giggles.

I guess her pain meds are working.

“There’s a dog keeping me from getting closer. Will he bite?” If I don’t move near him, his lip stays over his teeth.

“Crap. That’s Caesar. Tell him to go to his bed.” She sounds more confident in me than I feel.

Mustering every ounce of authority into my voice, I snap my fingers and point towards the flattened cushion in the corner of the room. “Caesar. Bed.”

All he does is tilt his head, and doesn’t move.

His brown eyes flick past me just as a deep voice calls out. “It’s okay, boy.”

Like Caesar was zapped with some sort of magic wand, his whole shaggy body starts wriggling and he slinks across the floor towards me, then lays down, showing his belly.

Mason stands in the hall by the kitchen, arms crossed and leaning against the wall with the tiniest upturn to one corner of his lip. His broad dark hat covers his eyes as he watches the dog lolling at my feet.

“You can pet him. He’ll be your best friend now.” His cell rings, and he fishes it out from his jeans. “Yes, I’m rescuing her. Your vicious guard dog is dribbling on himself in excitement.” Mason tilts his head just enough that I catch his amber eyes squinting in amusement at me tentatively scratching beneath Caesar’s neck.

“You’re welcome.” His phone looks small in his hand before it disappears where it came from, back into the snug confines of his Wranglers.

This living room is as big as my mother’s house, but I feel claustrophobic with him in here.

Giving the dog one last pat, I stand to retrieve the hot, well, warm chocolate cups from the table.

Mason’s gaze narrows as he sweeps me up and down. “I’ll be back for supper. Six would be nice to aim for.”

Is he mad at me? “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

I barely hear his grunt before he disappears outside.

Caesar flips his paws beneath himself and watches the door shut, then bounces over to Sophia’s room, nosing the handle.

“I don’t know if you’re allowed in there.” Balancing the drinks in one hand, I barely twist the knob before he pushes through, running to Sophia and putting his paws up on her bed.

She smiles, patting him on the head. “I knew you’d figure out a way in here, my smart puppy.”

His tail wags slowly back and forth as he licks her elbow.

“I’m sorry it took so long. Trying to find where everything is in the kitchen is, honestly, daunting.” I set her cup carefully on the table near her so Caesar can’t bump it.

“Make yourself at home. You’re doing the cooking, so put stuff where you can find it.” She gestures the dog away and pushes herself up, then stuffs a pillow behind her back. “I didn’t tell my dad you couldn’t cook. Think you’ll be able to swing it?” Her blue eyes, so different from Mason’s, peer at me over the rim as she takes her first sip.

I’m not too worried about what she will think, but there’s a voice in the back of my head that tells me that her dad will be harder to please.

“I hope so. Are there any favorite recipes I should try?” My phone gallery is already packed with screenshots of easy meals.

The rule I set for myself was that they had to contain less than ten ingredients. At least until I get more comfortable.

I can follow directions. I’ve spent my whole life trying to do things impeccably. This can’t be that difficult.

Sophia sets down her empty mug and wipes away her chocolate mustache. “What were you planning for tonight?”

“Spaghetti. It’s pretty straightforward.” I found the noodles and the sauce in my cupboard exploration. And the big freezer is packed full of every cut of beef I can imagine, including bins of burger.

“Oh, yea. That sounds yummy.” She stares up at the ceiling with a small smile. “How about some rolls, too? Fresh biscuits with butter and honey.” Her hand darts across her belly and rubs in a circle. “That actually would be amazing.”

Crap. Bread wasn’t on my radar, but I guess I can try.

Why is this so hard?

I want to cry. The noodles are mushy. My recipe says “al dente,” but I have no idea what that means. Except I’m pretty sure it doesn’t mean this congealed mess in the bottom of the pot.

The sauce tastes okay, but it’s just the canned stuff with burger mixed in.

“What the heck did I do wrong?” Google tells me I only should have cooked them for eight minutes.

Well. Crud. That was like three times too long. No wonder they’re glue.

A quick glance at the clock tells me I have just enough time to try again.

But, the bread is just going to have to wait until tomorrow.

The side salad goes together quickly, and I’m just draining the pasta when my timer on my phone tells me it’s five minutes before six.

When the front door swings open and a rush of early summer air brings in the scent of the cattle, I know Mason and Sawyer have returned.

“Dang! Smells amazing in here!” Sawyer’s long strides bring him closer to the counter and he peers over, his baseball hat knocked back so far it looks like it might slip off of his head.

“Thank you. I hope it tastes that way.” I found the drawer that holds all of the oven mitts, and I start carrying the pots to the big dining room table.

Careful to not bump myself with the steaming kettle, I step around the island and nearly run into Mason at the corner.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sir.” The spaghetti sloshes nearly to the lip just as he grabs the edge to keep it from spilling.

“You’re fine. Didn’t get me.” His amber eyes crinkle at the corner while he steadies me, then nimbly takes the handles and carries it to where I had a potholder ready.

“Isn’t it hot?” I could feel the heat through the gloves. How is he holding it?

He flexes his fingers after he sets it down and holds up his calloused palms. “No burns.” Mason glances over to Sawyer who’s pulling pieces of tomatoes out of the salad and eating them. “Go wash up. And save some of those for the rest of us.”

“‘Kay, Dad.” Sawyer pushes away from where he was leaning and drops the bill of his hat over his dark hair. He disappears down the hall past Sophia’s room.

It’s hard to ignore how heavy the air gets when I’m alone with Mason.

Hurrying back to the stove, I get the meat sauce.

This time, he stays out of my path, but watches me beneath the wide brim of his hat as I gather everything.

When I get the salad bowl, I catch a scent of leather and sweet alfalfa as he brushes past me into the kitchen where he scrubs his hands.

Clinking is a distraction. When I glance up, he’s gathering a stack of thick ceramic plates and tossing some forks on top.

“That was my next stop.” I’m not sure if I’m supposed to take them, or just let him help.

I expected that since he’s paying me, I’d be in charge of doing all of it.

What a pleasant surprise that he’s pitching in.

“You did the hard part. This is easy.” The corner of his mouth tilts up just a fraction and I see the muscle of his jaw starburst before he sets the pile down.

“I, um. I wanted to tell you, I appreciate this.” To be able to stay here, and all I have to do is a little housekeeping and cooking, while making money just to spend time with Sophia is a dream come true. Heading back into the kitchen, I just need the parmesan cheese.

His hand waves idly before he slides one of the dishes free and begins scooping tendrils of spaghetti onto it. “This is a win-win. I’m glad it worked out.” Slathering red sauce on the mound of noodles, he then puts a spoonful of greens next to the pasta.

Mason pauses, looking across the assortment. “Will you get the ranch dressing out of the fridge while you’re in there?” He drops the tongs back into the wooden bowl.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sure.” Hurrying, my hip bumps the knife off the cutting board as I push by.

Heat flames up my cheeks as it clatters to the ground.

“You alright?” he calls.

“Just clumsy.” When I turn away from the fridge, he’s standing only feet away.

His lips are thin as he bends to pick up the fallen blade. “Lori.” He squints one eye while setting the dirty utensil next to the sink. “Don’t stress so much. It’s just food. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Dammit. I messed up. How do I explain that it’s who I am? I need everything to go right, the first time.

As on all of my tests. My homework always turned in on time.

Even my panty drawer is color coordinated.

Chewing on my lip, I bite back another apology and force myself to take a deep breath.

His jaw works watching me. “Relax. You’re like one of the family.” His palm goes out flat towards me.

Tentatively, I reach my hand out and place it in his. The heat from his rough skin burns into mine. “Deal.”

His dark brows furrow beneath his hat. “Well. Thanks. But, I just need the dressing to finish Sophia’s plate.” He pulls away from my grasp and plucks the bottle from me.

Oh, my god.

I feel like my entire body is being consumed in an inferno of embarrassment.

I’m such an idiot.

This is one of those moments that will be engraved on my tombstone when I die of absolute mortification. It’ll say “Death by Humiliation” in big letters across the front.