“Then it’s a good thing you have such a handsome teacher.” He reached under the counter and pulled out an apron. As he unrolled it, he slid it over my head. He spun me about, tying off the back.
I was about to continue my protesting when I looked down at the gray material and the red stitching. “Sous Chef Cowan.” I… I ran through a list of gifts from exes. None of them had gone out of their way to invite me into their world. Even if the night ended in an inferno, it already went down in history as my best date.
“With a little work, you’ll get promoted to chef.” He gave me a quick slap on the ass. “Now, let’s get to work before I fire you.”
He pushed me in front of the counter, standing behind me with hands on my waist. I wished we were in nothingbutaprons. If he kept kissing the back of my neck, we’d be starting the meal with dessert.
“We’re going to cook a classic scallop. When they’re this fresh, we don’t need anything fancy. I’ve already patted them dry. Next, we have to salt them.”
He slid a ramekin closer to the cutting board filled with white granules. I took a pinch of salt.
“More.”
Bigger pinch.
“More.”
Even bigger pinch. I held my fingers just above the first scallop when he raised my hand a foot above the seafood. “Sprinkle while going back and forth. This evens out the salt.” Then he slid the pepper grinder in front of me. “Same thing. But we just want a light dusting.” I followed his instructions. “Now flip and repeat.”
I did as he said. So far, I hadn’t destroyed dinner. Maybe I’d be a comic book store owner by day and a pop-up restaurateur by evening? If it meant this sexy bear rubbed up against my back, I’d be making us dinner on the regular.
“Now comes the cooking.”
Oh, okay. I aced not destroying dinner during the prep. Now we had to see if I could survive actual fire. He guided me in front of the stove. His pans gave away his occupation. I’m pretty sure I bought mine from the grocery store. These cost more than my truck.
“Butter first.”
“How did you learn this?”
He swayed behind me, forcing my body to move with his. “I worked as a dishwasher in high school. One day, we were short-staffed, and I had to wait tables. I broke three plates. But I watched this elderly couple sharing a plate of pasta. They didn’t speak while they ate. Instead, they just smiled at one another while they enjoyed their food.”
He put a scallop in my hand. “We’re going to do one to start. Put it on the side so we can slosh it around in the butter.” I’m glad he gave instructions, or I would have dumped them all in at once.
When it hit the pan, it sizzled. He took my hand, wrapping it around the handle. Tipping it to the side, I watched as the butter splashed over the scallop.
“When I cleaned up their table. They had a note that said, ‘Thanks for another year.’ When I asked the chef, he said they came in every year and always ordered the same thing.” He prodded me to flip the scallop. “It was the same meal they had on their first date when the chef’s dad ran the restaurant. I should have guessed it. We didn’t even have pasta on the menu at that point.”
“You’re such a softie.”
He stepped in, picking the small brown disc out of the pan. Simon dropped it on a wad of paper towels, giving it a pat down before shoving a fork inside. Hovering in front of my face, I took a quick bite.
“Hot. Hot. Hot.” Once it cooled down, I was shocked at how good it tasted. I made that! “That’s delicious.”
Simon took a bite, chewing slowly. “A little lemon and we have a winner.”
“That wasn’t so hard.” Now I could cook more than Mac and cheese. I was basically a world-renowned chef at this point. “If the comic shop doesn’t work out, I’ll be a chef at the Bistro.”
“Sous chef.” He lifted the board, holding the rest of the scallops. “For now.”
I took the cutting board with the remaining scallops, ready to begin the rest of the cook. Simon resumed his position behind me. If he stayed there, I’d cook all night long. I’m not sure this was his usual teaching technique in the kitchen, but I wouldn’t complain.
“I can’t believe they didn’t see it coming.” Simon shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth as we watched the movie. He had the perfect couch, cozy enough for long periods of sitting, but not so much that I wanted a nap. I had been surprised Simon suggested a superhero movie. So far, he seemed to enjoy it. “It’s obvious Sinisteria was going to betray them.”
“That’s not Sinisteria. It’s her clone.”
“But then…”
“Her father cloned her and then erased her memories.” I gave him an awkward glance. He tried to put on a poker face, but the confusion came through. “You have no idea what’s happening, do you?”
