Chapter 15 Zandra
FIFTEEN
Zandra
Once we were in the kitchen, Callum announced, “We’re cooking.”
I looked around at what he’d spread out on the counter. On the way here, I’d seen a lot of this stuff in his grocery bags. Carrots, onions, canned pumpkin, gluten-free flour. Plus cocoa powder and chicken breasts.
“And this has something to do with work?” I asked skeptically.
“We’re going to test out allergy-conscious menu items. I think Hearthstone needs more options.”
My first reaction was that Callum was being ridiculously thoughtful, yet again. But something held me back from just going with it. “Isn’t that Alice’s job? As the head chef?”
“This is background work. We’re gathering intel. Doing recon.”
“Recon?”
Connor wandered in, grabbing a spoon from a drawer and the jar of almond butter from the counter. “Every once in a while, Cal drops into military speak.”
“Hey!” Callum picked up a wooden spoon and poked his friend with it. “I told you to stay out of here.” He snatched the almond butter away. Connor looked bewildered. But Callum plucked a container of yogurt from the fridge and shoved it at Connor, who shrugged and wandered away.
I was pressing my lips together, but my smile snuck in at the corners.
“Where were we?” Callum asked.
I barked a laugh. “Cooking. Apparently. But I have no idea how to cook.”
“I can show you. It’s easy.” He was bustling around, organizing ingredients and grabbing mixing bowls.
“No, I mean it. I’m legitimately a terrible cook. Everything I make comes out tasting awful at best, food poisoning at worst. My nana learned when I was a kid that chopping veggies was the extent of my abilities.”
“Then you’re in luck. I’m a fantastic cook, and I’m going to teach you. While we both learn, together, how to do the gluten and dairy-free cooking thing.”
“Do I have a choice about this?” I asked.
Connor peered in through the pass-through, shoveling yogurt into his mouth. “You do not,” he said with his mouth full.
“We’re ignoring you,” Callum said, and I gave Connor an apologetic smile.
Okay. Callum O’Neal was going to teach me to cook gluten and dairy free. Because he wanted to do something sweet for me after the rough morning I’d had.
A more sensible woman would probably be thrilled at this prospect, but there was this weird pressure in my chest. A fizzy, unsettled feeling, like I didn’t know what I might do. Like cry. Or throw my arms around him.
My professors used to comment on how poised I was during class presentations. I’d used those same skills in my pitch meetings with investors. Yet Callum had me all shaken up like a can of beer that was about to foam over.
Callum stopped right beside me. “Don’t worry,” he said, voice low. “We’ll just go step by step.”
A languid sensation caressed my spine. “I guess I can follow your lead. It’s happened before.”
“And you’re always in good hands.”
The thought appeared in my head. I wouldn’t mind your hands on me.
Oh, no. There was no way I could have a crush on Callum O’Neal, so I was going to ignore it and act normal.
A foolproof plan.
It turned out we were making chicken pot pie with a gluten-free biscuit crust and brownies for dessert, which did sound pretty delicious. Callum set me to work chopping vegetables. That much I could handle, based on the knife skills Nana had taught me years ago.
“So,” I said as I diced carrots, “do you like having roommates?”
“Are you asking why I’m thirty-four and don’t have a place of my own?”
“I’m not one to talk.”
He was smiling. “I happen to like having roommates. I’d hate living alone. We’re all volunteers for Silver Ridge Fire. Dare’s a mechanic, Connor’s a personal trainer, and our other roommate Niko…he’s the baby. Out with his girlfriend right now.”
“I’m guessing you’re the oldest of the group?” I teased.
Callum made an exaggeratedly shocked face. “Dare and Connor are barely younger than me. We all played football together in high school. And if I’m old, so are you,” he added.
“Maybe.” I sliced into an onion, knowing my eyes would start stinging any minute from the fumes. “I didn’t expect to be single, broke, and starting over back in Silver Ridge in my mid-thirties.”
“Who says your life has to follow some pre-planned track record?”
“My parents,” I said without thinking.
“You care about their opinions?”
My knife paused. “I don’t want to care. But it’s hard not to.”
After Callum finished dicing the chicken breasts and I had a bowl of chopped veggies, we started the pot pie filling. “Don’t turn the burner up too high,” he said. “Once the vegetables are sweating, we’ll add the chicken.”
“Veggies sweat?”
“When you treat them right.”
I shook my head, because Callum could turn just about any topic into something that sounded sexual.
While I stirred the contents of the skillet and Callum scooped flour into another bowl, I said, “Connor mentioned military speak. You were in the Army, right?”
“Yeah, in my twenties. Like my brothers.”
“Hard to imagine you marching around all serious and following every order. Sir, yes sir.”
He aimed his lopsided grin my way. “There was a little more to it than that. But you’re partly right. Loved the people I served with, didn’t love following arbitrary orders and being shuffled around with no control.”
“And then you started at Hearthstone after you left active duty?”
“You got it. Started as a bartender. Didn’t have much experience with that, but I talked Manny’s ear off and convinced him to give me a shot.”
“I can imagine.”
“What about you? What were you doing in Chicago before you came back?”
Ugh. My mood instantly wobbled. This wasn’t a fun topic.
Yet I found myself talking.
“I had an idea to help food manufacturers track their ingredients more effectively, all the way from sourcing to production to delivery. To make it even easier to prevent cross-contamination.”
“For people with food allergies like you?” He came over to dump the chicken into the skillet.
I nodded. “My ex Ian had all these contacts in the business world. He said he’d landed a huge client for us. A major food manufacturer.” I grimaced. “We touted that client to investors to get them to back our company. But Ian didn’t tell me when the big client pulled out.”
“That sounds bad.”
“Very bad. He lied to me, and I had no idea I was giving false information to our investors.” I focused on stirring, not wanting to see pity in his eyes.
“Long story short, once the truth came out, our investors panicked. Everything fell apart. We worked out a settlement, and I walked away with nothing. My savings and reputation were destroyed. Had to keep living with Ian for months because I couldn’t find a new job and had no money for my own place.
I guess I’m lucky he didn’t kick me out, but I was the one paying for groceries and keeping the place clean. ”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. Damn is right. So…now I’m here. You know the rest.”
We worked in comfortable silence for a while.
I had to admit, there was something soothing about the rhythm of cooking together.
Callum would give me advice or show me a technique, then watch patiently as I tried to copy him.
Before long, we had the pot-pie filling off the heat.
It already smelled incredible, and was thick and creamy from the non-dairy creamer we’d used.
Then Callum instructed me on the biscuit dough. “Not that bad, right?” he asked as we scooped and mixed.
“Just wait. Even my nana couldn’t teach me to cook. Something usually goes wrong with me involved. Salt will get switched with sugar, or the oven will break.”
“Don’t jinx it.” He knocked on the butcher-block counter. “We’ve got this. I believe in us.”
“You cook for people a lot?” I dropped big spoonfuls of the dough onto the top of the pot-pie filling.
“For my family, mostly. We try to get together every week or two, if possible. At least once a month. I don’t like going too long without seeing them.”
He sounded much closer to his family than I was to mine.
“This is my first time giving a cooking lesson, though,” he added. “It’s fun, right?”
“It is.”
A warm, achy feeling spread through me. Like with just a soft look and some kind words, Callum had opened me up and all the things I kept hidden were about to spill out.
I had to get myself together. I was tougher than this.
Once the pot pie was baking in the hot oven, we started on the brownies.
“The usual key to good brownies,” he said seriously, “is not to over mix. I don’t know if it’s the same for gluten free. But usually, you want to fold in the flour gently, like you’re tucking a baby into bed.”
“You’ve had practice with babies?”
“Not exactly. I didn’t see my niece much when she was a baby. But I figure it’s the same. A delicate process, Zandra. You gotta respect the batter. I’m not kidding around.”
I laughed. “Sir, yes sir.”
Once we had the dry and wet ingredients assembled, it was time for folding. “Like this?”
Callum cringed. “If you want the baby to never sleep again, sure. And to have nightmares for the rest of its life.”
“But I’m folding!”
“Looked more like stabbing. Here.” Callum suddenly shifted so he was behind me. Close. Really close. His hand covered mine, both of us now holding the spatula.
“What are you doing?” My voice was tight.
“Just trying to show you. Don’t fight it, okay? Twist your wrist. Feel that?”
“Uh, yes. I feel it.”
I could hardly breathe as he guided my hand, slowly turning the ingredients over to gently mix them.
But I was hardly concentrating on the batter.
His scent was everywhere. That woodsy cologne and the herbs from the pot pie, mixing with the sweetness of chocolate and sugar.
It shouldn’t have worked together, but it did.
I wanted to eat him up.
If I scooted back just a little, we’d be touching. Would I fit right into him, his shoulders creating a perfect curve for my smaller ones? His arms would close around me. He could lay his cheek on top of my head, and I’d be surrounded.
I was getting dizzy.