“All good?” I ask.
She doesn’t move except to shake her head. “No. It’s bloody burnt.” At that, she swings around to face me. “I’m really fucking annoyed too because I spent hours over the past few days practicing. I even had my neighbour show me her way of cooking.”
She looks so disappointed that I want to wrap her in my arms. I don’t dare do this, though. Instead, I take a look at what we’re dealing with here. “I think it’s okay.” Taking the carving knife and fork from her, I begin slicing the burnt parts from the meat. She’s cooked roast beef, which is my favourite, and I wonder if she already knew that, just like she knew my favourite beer.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she mutters.
“No, I’m not. Look here,” I say, showing her the meat that’s good. “It might be a little dry, but that’s nothing a good helping of gravy won’t fix.”
She covers her face with her hand, shaking her head. I sense another Callie-meltdown coming. Eyeing me between two parted fingers, she says, “I forgot to buy the gravy mix. We should have just gone out. Or ordered take away. Or had mac and cheese.”
“Mac and cheese?” I do my best not to laugh. Fuck knows that would not go down well right about now.
“I’m a pro at mac and cheese. You’d be assured of a meal that wasn’t burnt.”
I want to do nothing other than make her feel good, but a quick look around the kitchen tells me this is going to get worse before it gets better. “Right, so I can make gravy. What veggies were you thinking of cooking besides roast potato?” The potatoes aren’t looking so good—they’re overcooked and dry.
Keeping her eyes on mine, she takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. Reaching for her Vodka Cruiser, she waves in the air as she says, “Whatever you find in the freezer would be good.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. Placing my hands on her shoulders, I guide her to the small table in the kitchen. Pulling a chair out, I order, “You rest your feet while I finish this off. I imagine they’re sore after being on them all day slaving over this food.”
Her lips twitch. “Yes, so damn sore.”
I spend the next twenty minutes cooking the peas, broccoli and cauliflower I find in her freezer while also making gravy from the pan juice. Callie’s eyes track my every movement. I know this because she talks non-stop the entire time, telling me how her mother could have forewarned me that this dinner would be a complete failure. She also tells me how her sister, Melissa, is everything her mother ever wanted in a daughter, while she is a big disappointment to both her parents.
When I finally place the meal on the table, I say, “It would have been a lie if your mother had told me this dinner would be a failure because I’m having the best time I’ve had in a long while.”
She sighs as she spoons peas onto her plate. “How do you always say the exact right thing, Luke Hardy?”
I chuckle. “You never used to think that way.” I take the dish of peas off her as she passes it.
“Well, that was before I got to know the real you. And something tells me that there are so many layers to the real Luke, that I’m only just getting started.”
After we finish loading our plates with food, I ask, “How many times did you practice cooking this?”
She pulls a face as if she’s pained to tell me. “Three times.”
“Fuck, Callie. Roast is expensive, and you can’t afford that at the moment.” While I’m annoyed she wasted that money on me, my body is alive with want. Actions speak louder than words, and Callie’s actions scream so loudly. This woman wants me enough to give up something precious.
“I can afford whatever I choose. I do have savings,” she says a little snappishly. And then her voice softens when she adds, “I wanted the first meal I cooked you to be perfect.”
“Perfect is overrated. I prefer real,” I murmur.
“Well, you got real. This is the real me. I can’t cook for shit and I’m no domestic goddess, but I can keep indoor plants alive, am always on time and can play any song you want on the guitar. If none of those things are of any use to you, feel free to bow out now.”
I grin. “You can’t get rid of me that easy. Besides, I think guitar skills are an underrated commodity in this world. Making people smile should be at the top of everyone’s priorities, and I’m fairly sure most people smile when they listen to music.”
“Shut up, Luke. Stop talking, because seriously, you’re just digging yourself deeper into my swoon cave, and I might pass out from all that swooning.”
“What the hell is a swoon cave?”
“That is secret women’s business. Now, be quiet and eat.” She is too damn cute when she tries to boss me around.