Page 52 of Apex of the Curve
“Onward and upward,” Vyking agreed. “Let’s get this new batch going.”
“Want a hand with that?” Jon asked.
“Love one,” Fen said. “You give my pops a hand and I’ll get some dinner going. Pretty sure my lady’s hungry.”
I felt a warm, tingling rush at Fen’s words and smiled again, blushing at the thought. His lady had a nice ring to it, even more so with the reverence with which he said it.
“Come on, you can gimme a hand in the kitchen if you don’t mind,” he said, jostling me lightly. I looked up and nodded.
“Love to,” I murmured.
Just inside the back door of the house, well away from prying eyes, he pulled me against his body and lowered his mouth to mine. I closed my eyes and kissed him back, and wow, he was a skillful kisser. With a touch of his lips, a stroke of his tongue against mine, I felt knotted muscles loosen right along with my inhibitions.
I groaned into his mouth and he pulled away gently, a mischievous smile on his lips.
“Yeah,” he said with conviction. “I’ll be doing more of that tonight, if you’ll let me.”
“Let you?” I asked, chest heaving with my breathlessness. “Pretty sure I’m going to beg you.”
He laughed and said, “Good to know. Think you can fix up a salad while I get the grill lit?”
“Sure.”
“Knives there, cutting board here.” He pulled the built-in one out from where it was hidden under the lip of the counter. “Bowl up there.” He indicated, and I nodded.
“Okay.”
We worked together mostly in silence, and it was comfortable – moving around one another and trading little touches when we could.
It didn’t seem to matter how damp or how cold it was outside, no matter the weather, Fenris and Vyking were fanatics about cooking with fire. I didn’t think the oven got much use. I made the salad while Fenris seasoned some thick steaks for the grill.
“Wish we had corn,” I said, and he opened up the fridge and brought out a bag of ears.
“Your wish is my command, my lady.”
“Awesome, where’s the foil?” I asked. He brought a roll down from the top of the fridge as I tore into the corn, shucking it with the practice of a thousand summertime barbecues. I was impressed that he had it. It was getting close to the end of its season as we headed into deepest fall. In fact, it was already dark outside.
“I’ll be back in a minute for those,” he said, letting the meat rest as he went outside to fire up the grill.
I fell into the peacefulness that being domestic always brought me, fixing the corn up with butter and a touch of salt to each packet and peeking in the oven.
I was right. It looked barely used. There were some pans in it, a couple of cookie sheets, a roasting pan, and a cast-iron Dutch oven by the looks of it. I pulled all of it out and heard something rattle in the Dutch oven and lifted its giant lid.
“Ah ha,” I voiced triumphantly, and lifted out the two muffin tins.
By the time Fenris came back in, I had the oven preheating and was whisking mayonnaise into my thin roll batter.
“Mayonnaise?” Fenris demanded with a look of disgust on his face that instantly had me howling with laughter.
“Shut up, you’ll like these, I promise.”
“What the fuck are they supposed to be?” he demanded suspiciously as I dropped a heavy-handed spoonful of batter into each muffin tin.
“Dinner rolls,” I said, rolling my eyes. “They have a sort of biscuit texture and flavor but come out in a muffin-like shape.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” he said, hefting the cookie sheet I’d stacked the foil-wrapped corn on, and the other cookie sheet lined with parchment he’d set the steaks to rest on. He raised an eyebrow at me suspiciously as he backed out the door, nudging it open with his shapely butt to exit out through the mudroom.
Long story short, the dinner rolls were well received, the conversation with the three men lively, and as evening wore on into night, we sat comfortably at the picnic table under the extended roof overhang from the back of the house.
