Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kash
Fuck. I should have known it was too good to be true.
My imagination immediately took off, thinking of all the ways my sweet little Sunshine could punish me.
The visions ranged from her sitting on my face to shut me up, to spanking me like the bad boy I am, maybe edging me a little bit just to make sure I learned my lesson.
The options were limitless, and I was ready for anything—well, anything but this.
I didn’t see this coming.
Having some four-foot-tall blonde woman yelling at me was not on my list of possibilities. I’m hunched over a workstation as the instructor continues to walk around and praise everyone else. I swear I thought I knew how to cook, but apparently, I know nothing.
The tyrant running the cooking class Mila signed us up for is not impressed with my skills.
She’s been by no less than four times to tsk or shake her head while giving me an unimpressed expression.
I don’t know who rained on her parade, but it wasn’t me.
Every time I try to roll out the pie dough I’m working on, she comes over and tells me it’s too thick or too thin, and now it’s too tacky because I manhandled it too much. Maybe she’s too damn picky.
The offending lump of pie dough sits on my station in a misshapen ball, and the more I stare at it, the more I want to throw it across the room.
Apparently, this whole thing was Care Bear’s idea.
The tyrant came into the library she works at and asked if she could put up a flyer for cooking classes.
Cora dragged Atlas here, which he doesn’t care about because that sap will do whatever she wants.
Granted, I’ll do whatever Mila wants too, but Emma taught us how to cook, so I thought this punishment of Mila’s was going to be a cake walk. I thought wrong.
I love chicken pot pie, but after tonight, I may be too scared to ever eat it again.
Mila and Cora’s jobs were to make the filling, while we had to make the pie crust. Naturally, my girl did that like it was no big deal, but somehow, I’m struggling.
She tried pairing them up with some other guys to make it more interesting, as if cooking with a stranger would be, but Atlas and I shut that shit down.
I’m convinced Mila told her about what happened, because this woman is praising every damn thing Atlas does, whereas she scowls at me like my presence in her kitchen personally offends her.
“I thought Emma taught you how to cook.” He arches a brow, looking at my disaster of a station. There’s flour and butter chunks that are stuck to the stainless-steel table, along with a wet spot on the table. I’m not sure if it’s from water or the tears I’ve likely shed after she walked past.
“Fuck you,” I grit out low, so as not to disrupt the tyrant who is marching up to another poor soul, no doubt about to destroy their psyche. “I can cook; this dough is just stupid.”
“Much like you, I don’t think dough has intelligence, Kash.” He snickers.
“You wound me, Atty boy. Take that back.”
“I don’t think I will, Kash.”
“I don’t think I like you anymore.” I scowl at him through narrowed eyes.
“As long as Cora likes me, I don’t care.” He shrugs while rolling out his perfectly thick dough into a pie plate.
I glare at him for a moment, then laugh when a thought occurs to me. “Care Bear may like you, but Noah likes me more.”
Atlas freezes his movements, then lifts his head, dark eyes locked on mine. He stares at me for a moment without saying anything, then very calmly replies, “It’s cute you think that.”
I know I’m Noah’s favorite. After Cora left him with Atlas that one time and I stencil tattooed him, Noah has been my number one little dude. I don’t have others, but even if I did, he’d still be my number one. “I don’t think that. I know that.”
“I know you’re a—“
“Smooth talker?” Mila asks, sliding up to my side and wrapping her arm around my waist. I glare at Atlas over her head and mouth the word asshole.
Giving me a dark look, Atlas’ mouth opens to say something, but then his face immediately changes when Cora walks to him with her bowl of filling. His expression softens as he greets her and reaches for it. “Let me take that, Firefly. Can I do anything else, baby?”
What a sap.
Shaking her head, Cora looks from his station to mine, then laughs. Mila’s head follows her line of sight, then she laughs too. “Casanova, I thought you said you could cook.”
“I can cook. It’s not my fault this stupid recipe for dough doesn’t work.”
“Did you follow the instructions?” Mila asks, looking at the mess I have in front of me.
“Sunshine, you know I’m good at following instructions. There. Harder. More.”
Her face turns bright red, and she slips from my reach. “Stop it,” she hisses, her voice low. “Behave yourself.”
“Kash doesn’t know how to behave,” Atlas cuts in. “He was born defective in that way. Probably dropped on his head.”
This little shit. “How about I drop you on your ass?” I offer, with no real malice behind it. Atty may come off as gruff and dickish, but I know it’s just his love language. What kind of brother would he be if he didn’t give me shit? I’d be more worried if he was nice all the time.
“Excuse me?” a shrill voice sounds behind me.
I almost scream as I jump about a foot in the air. Whirling around, I find the tyrant standing there. I’m shocked I didn’t feel her glaring a whole through me.
“How dare you speak like that in my kitchen!”
“I—"
“You are leaving. Right now.” She points to the door. Well shit.
I open my mouth to plead my case but immediately close it when her eyes narrow. It’s like she’s daring me to speak so she can bludgeon me with the rolling pin on my station.
Softly moving it to the side, I grab Mila’s hand. “Sorry, Sunshine.”
“I didn’t say she had to leave. Only you. Goodbye.” She waves me off with both hands like she’s trying to shoo a cat off her porch.
“I’m not leaving without my girl, so I’m staying.”
“Kash! Stop it.” Mila scowls at me. Glancing back at the tyrant, she softens her expression. “I apologize for my boyfriend, Lucile. He sometimes lacks a filter,” she adds while giving me a pointed look.
Tyrant Lucile looks from Mila to me, then crosses her arms. “Both of you, out of my kitchen.”
Mila’s jaw drops open, and I swear I hear Cora laugh before she covers the sound with a cough.
“Why do I have to leave?” Mila looks at her incredulously.
“He’s trouble and you excuse it. You can leave as well.”
I can feel the stare of the other two couples who are suffering through this with us. I don’t know them personally, but I think we’re all about to be bonded forever.
Mila stares at Lucile, then shakes her head. “Fine, trouble and I are leaving. But just so you know Lucile, it’s dough 101 that you use cold butter. No one uses anything that’s room temperature.” She turns to look at me. “As a professional, I can show you the proper way to do it at home.”
Mila grabs my hand, then drags me behind her, muttering as she goes.
For having such little legs, she moves fast. I only catch a word or two, but unbelievable and punishment register in my brain.
I’m hard as a rock as we walk back toward my car.
There is crusted flour and butter on the apron that I’m still wearing.
I guess I’ll be keeping that as a souvenir.
The whole time Mila is going off, all I can do is stare at her ass as she angrily walks toward my SUV. I think Atlas might be onto something about being defective. The only thing I can think of as she rips open the car door, then shuts it before I can, is that I can’t wait to get home.
My body tingles in anticipation as I climb into my seat and start the car. Feeling her gaze, I turn toward her.
“If you think your punishment is over, you’re so wrong, Casanova. Home. Now.”
Pulling out onto the street, I barely contain the grin threatening to break free.
I’m in so much trouble.