“How did you learn to do this?” I ask him. It’s not that he shouldn’t be able to throw a few things together, but it looks so freaking good.
He nods at the plate. “Just try it first and then ask me. I can’t make any promises,” he says, sitting down between us.
I take a bite of the mashed potatoes. They’re better than the ones at Thanksgiving, with just a kick of pepper or some kind of spice. As for the chicken, it melts in your goddamn mouth.
I’m practically glaring at him. “So,” I say between bites, pointing my fork at him. “Last night’s appetizer wasn’t some once in a blue moon thing for you.”
He smirks then rubs his fingers across his lips, taking on a serious face. “I like to cook when I can.”
“You should cook all the time,” my mother says. “This is very, very good.”
“And you should take that as a compliment since she barely eats my food,” I tell him, kicking him lightly under the table.
“Oh, that’s not true,” my mother chides me, but it is totally true. I do my best, but the kitchen has never been my strong suit. When it comes to Lachlan though, it’s one of his many fucking strong suits. I swear to god there is nothing he can’t do.
Why the hell did I have to meet this beast, this superman, who blows my mind in the bedroom, mows down rugby players for a living, rescues helpless animals, looks like a fucking god, and happens to cook, just before he has to leave? Why is life so damn cruel?
“Here I was thinking all you Scots knew how to make was haggis,” I tell him, pushing the heaviness out of my chest and trying to focus on what’s in front of me.
“Oh, I can make some pretty stellar haggis,” he says. “If I had more time here, I’d see what I could do.”
I manage a smile. “As much as I wish you had more time, I’m glad I’m missing out on that.”
After dinner, my mother insists on dessert and brings out the matcha green tea ice cream, something Lachlan’s never had before.
“This is gorgeous,” he says between spoonfuls.
“I grew up on the stuff,” I tell him. “Do you know my favorite thing to eat as a child was sheets and sheets of nori? You know, dried seaweed.”
“It is true,” my mom says with a gentle laugh. “I bought them for sushi, but I would always have to hide them from her. When I found the packets later, they were torn into, like some mouse had gotten into them.”
“Strange little creature,” he comments warmly, sitting back in his chair, studying me. “What else did you get up to as a child?”
“Oh, she was up to everything,” my mother says quickly. “No different than she is now. But she had four older brothers to keep her in line. Brian, Nikko, Paul, and Toshio. Kayla was our little angel. She popped up one day when her father and I never thought I could get pregnant. I never thought I would get my little girl. But here she is.”
My cheeks grow hot, and I busy myself by swirling the ice cream into green soup.
“Unfortunately,” my mom adds, “she was an absolute terror.”
I glare at her while Lachlan lets out a laugh. “Mom,” I warn her.
“Oh, she was,” she says, leaning forward toward Lachlan, her eyes shining. “Even as a little girl, she’d run away from you every chance she got. If it wasn’t for her brothers, I’m sure we would have lost her for good one day. They were good for that, being protective.”
“Yeah, but then in high school it got a bit annoying,” I remind her.
“For you,” she says in jest. “But for us, it was a godsend. She was a boy crazy little girl, you see.”
“Oh, is that so?” Lachlan asks me with large eyes, clearly enjoying this.
“Yes, very much so,” my mom says before I can neither confirm nor deny. “Every day she had a new crush from school. Billy this or Tommy that. She got in trouble once for kissing a boy and making him cry.”
I bury my face in my hands and groan.
Lachlan is laughing hard, such a nice sound, even if it’s at my expense. “What did you do, Kayla?”