Chapter 28 Jesse #2
I'm on my third attempt at making a roux when Luc and his sisters return home.
All three of them stop talking and stare at me in the kitchen with their dad, whisking flour and melted butter while he watches on, ready with a large ladle of the homemade stock that's been simmering all day to add when it gets to just the right color.
I flick my eyes over to them just in time to see Luc making a very obvious what the fuck expression at Shawna, who's been sitting back reading a fucking tabloid magazine with mine and Luc's faces plastered on the front while I'm subjected to an intense cooking lesson.
I do not let my eyes leave the browning mixture for long, though.
This man takes his food very seriously, and I'm paying serious attention, because I know that his dad's gumbo is Luc's favorite food in the world.
Part of the reason he loves it is that it's different every time.
Using different ingredients and never measuring anything will do that.
If I can get the basics down, maybe I could actually cook for Luc instead of setting off the smoke detector every time I've tried to do more than order in or heat up those gross pre-made frozen health food boxes. Blech.
I thought I'd said too much when I admitted to my failed attempts at making his son dinner, but Mr. Martín seemed… well, pleased is too strong a word, but maybe interested or mildly approving of the idea that I would want to cook for his son. At the very least, my pathetic rambling about wanting him to come home to a home-cooked meal I’d made myself seemed to make him pity me enough to give me pointers.
"There you go," Mr. Martín says, and a zing of excitement makes me straighten my spine. "Don't get too excited," he mumbles disapprovingly. "You gotta keep stirring so I can add the stock."
Later that night, I'm lying in Luc's childhood bed reading the stupid tabloid I stole from Shawna when Luc crawls over me and plucks it from my hands, tossing it across the room.
“How did you do it?” He asks, his voice strained, nuzzling his nose against my jawline.
“Do what?”
“You charmed my dad. I didn’t think it was possible.”
I scoff against his lips. “I think the credit for that should probably go to Shawna.”
He shakes his head. “She gave you a push, maybe. My dad doesn’t share his kitchen secrets like that with just anyone.”
“He doesn’t?” I still don’t think I’m Mr. Martín’s favorite person.
I got maybe a little too excited over the tiny bit of praise I got when I finally managed to not screw something so simple up, and he begrudgingly let me look through one of the recipe books that have been in their family for longer than their house has been passed down.
Luc huffs a laugh and kisses the tip of my scrunched-up nose.
“Well, first of all, Lucius Martín Senior is notoriously indifferent to most people, and he gave you the time of day despite looking like a hooligan. Second, that recipe book has a history that you don’t understand.
The Martín men have been known to woo their partners with that recipe book. ”
I sit up straight. “Say what, now?”
He laughs and sits facing me, leaning over my lap and taking my face in one big hand. “It’s hard to tell with him, I know. But that was basically his seal of approval.”
“Really?”
Look, I have never in my life cared this much about someone else’s approval. But I do care. A lot. And I know how much it means coming from a man like Luc’s father.
And yeah, okay, honestly, if Mr. Martín had decided he hated me and banned me from entering the house, it wouldn’t have stopped me from pursuing his son to the ends of the earth, but I feel all warm and fuzzy inside in a way I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.
Visions of an entirely tangible future flash behind my eyelids.
The Martín’s and my family getting together for the holidays, my mom and Luc’s dad cooking together, Will and Ari showing his sisters how to play poker, Naz and Shawna comparing books.
Is that the happily ever after Shawna and I were talking about earlier today? Because it feels so real. Like a window into our future.
“I’m going to level with you right now,” I tell Luc seriously. “I am all kinds of high on life right now, and I need you to fuck me, but we can’t do it here, so you and I need to take a drive or climb up in that big barn or something.”
He chuckles and kisses down my neck. “We can do it here,” he whispers over my left nipple before sucking the barbell on the right into his mouth. “You just have to be quiet.”
“Listen to me, Luc Martín,” I whisper-shout, pushing him off me so he knows I mean business.
“You think you’re cute, but I got your daddy’s blessing today.
I cannot, will not, sully a thing like that by engaging in premarital sex under his roof, lest he change his mind and chase me out with that shotgun Shawna warned me about.
” I take a breath. “So take me out back and fuck me like the respectable gentleman I am, goddammit.”