Chapter 17 #2
“Oh.” She grinned, her cheeks reddening—a color that looked so fucking gorgeous on her. “I have a feeling the fish is only going to take five or six minutes on each side. A simple coating of pepper and garlic would probably be enough?”
“Four minutes.” I nodded. “And, yes, you’re right about the seasoning.”
“But before I start the fish, I need to think about the sauce.” Her hands went to her hips. “This is where I’m stumped. Sauce is a talent, and I don’t have it—at least not yet.”
“It’s okay. You’re going to learn.” I joined her at the stovetop and handed her several bottles that lived by the side of the range.
“Based on experience—and because I’ve eaten hundreds of pieces of Chilean sea bass—I know that soy and citrus pair best with this fish.
So, let’s make a soy-based vinaigrette with a nutty undertone. ”
“How do I know how much to use?” She held the bottle of soy sauce over the pan.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to see someone fall in love with food.
“You’re mixing paint to find the color you’re after. Think of the flavors, Alivia. Which do you want to be heavier?”
I would chime in if I didn’t agree with any of the measurements she made. The only way to learn was to try and taste as you went, which she was doing with a small spoon that she kept dipping into the pan. But I didn’t have to say a word. I liked everything I saw.
I more than liked it.
I fucking loved it.
But I was no longer paying attention to the proportions she was using or the way she was stirring or how, at one point, she’d even grabbed a lemon and lime and juiced the inside and zested the outside.
What I stared at was her.
The way she was tackling something she’d never done before. How she was putting her nerves aside—assuming she had them—and trusting herself. How her presence was making me want to stand in this room and not ever leave it and feel emotions far beyond creativity.
Alivia was making me feel more.
She was making me want more.
“I don’t have a watch.” She set the fish onto the oiled pan, her voice causing me to surface from my thoughts. “Is there a timer in here?”
“First off, get yourself a watch. Second, there is a timer, but you’re not going to use it. I’m going to teach you how to know when to flip if you’re unable to keep track of the time.”
I grabbed a spatula while she mixed the vegetables and waited until I knew we were nearing the four-minute mark. “Put your hand on top of mine.” Her fingers clung to me as I tapped the back side of the fish, the feel of her skin on mine fucking explosive. “Do you feel that consistency?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you’re after. Nothing harder, nothing softer.” I gave her the spatula. “Now carefully flip the fish.”
Rather than watching, since she didn’t need the observation, I walked away to grab a plate, a fork and knife, and a cloth napkin and set it all on the counter. I also filled a glass with some sparkling apple juice and added that to the place setting.
“I think this is done,” she said when I rejoined her.
“You know what to do.”
She raised her shoulders high. “But I need to make it look beautiful …”
“Think of the painting, Alivia. The way the sun is rising or setting over the cabin. Now design your own version.”
She spooned several helpings of vegetables onto the plate in a circular pattern, leaving the center empty, and that was where she placed the fish. The sauce went over everything, just enough so that it pooled.
“What do you think?” Her hands lay flat on the counter while she stared at the finished product.
“You tell me.”
“Well, as for the presentation, I went for a sunrise.” She used her finger to trace the arch over the chopped veggies, and when she reached the bottom of the plate, she gazed at me. “You would have gone for a sunset.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I despise the night.” Her chest rose, her eyes closing for a few seconds. “Just like you despise the day.”
I wanted to wrap her in my fucking arms and keep her from ever seeing a single second of darkness. But when her eyelids flicked back open, I handed her the fork and whispered, “Taste your masterpiece, Alivia.”
She dipped the tines into the corner of the fish, then speared a piece of each vegetable, and took the bite, covering her mouth while she chewed. “I can’t believe I made this.”
I remembered what it had been like to serve my first meal.
The gratification I’d felt while I watched them eat.
The way I, unbeknownst to them, had relished in their compliments.
How I couldn’t wipe the goddamn smile off my face.
That feeling, that knowledge that I was doing exactly what I was meant to do.
And I was feeling it again.
Right now.
“It tastes amazing, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, going in a second time, scoring an even bigger piece. “Are you going to try some?”
I was trying it. I was taking it all in, my gaze only on her, and I was savoring the feelings.
“I want you to have it.”
“Oh, I’m going to eat the hell out of it”—she giggled—“but you have to at least try this. Because this wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t accidentally stayed late.
” She swallowed. “You know, I’ve created other paintings before—more like color by number—at the assisted living facility, but this is technically my first art show.
” When I didn’t move, she said, “Please, Walker. It would be an honor for you to try my food.” She handed me her fork since I’d only brought one.
I took a generous portion and was even more impressed than I’d anticipated.
“Alivia … damn.” I let the flavors continue to meld on my tongue before I chewed.
The sauce was savory forward, and the citrus came in from behind.
The fish had been cooked to just the right temperature, and the vegetables had the perfect blend of crunch and softness.
“You fucking nailed it. This is an exceptional dish.”
“We nailed it.” She smiled.
“No, I will not allow you to give me any credit here. I helped, but this is all on you.”
When I gave her back the fork, she poked my side with her finger. “I cannot believe I just got a compliment from you.”
I chuckled. “Why?”
“I’ve been here for over three weeks, and this is the first nice thing you’ve said to me.”
“No.” I gripped the back of my neck.
“It is!” Her eyes widened as she nodded. “You’ve been a complete dick to me, up until about fifteen minutes ago.”
“A dick?”
“And not even a nice dick, like the one down there.” She pointed below my waist. “Sorry, that was wildly inappropriate. I should not have said that. But I had to, it’s true. You’ve been the worst kind of dick to me.”
I let out a loud laugh; I couldn’t help it. My skin was even getting slick with heat from this one talking about my cock.
“It’s good to hear you laugh, Walker. I never hear you laugh while you’re at work.”
As I quieted, I replied, “Nothing here makes me happy.” While I stared at her, I couldn’t let that lie live in the air between us.
I couldn’t let it process in her head. It wasn’t fair to her.
“That’s not true. You make me extremely happy, Alivia.
And what we just did together … shit, I don’t remember the last time I enjoyed being in the kitchen like that.
” I rubbed my lips together. “But as for being a dick, that’s who I am. ”
She shook her head, her hand going to my arm. “No, it’s not. That’s not the side of you I saw in the hotel.”
“What you saw in the hotel …” I let out some air, and her fingers dropped. “I don’t know if that side of me exists anymore. I don’t know where that person is.”
“He’s right here.” Her voice was so quiet. “With me.”
“Bullshit.”
“He is.” She set her fork down and turned her body toward me.
“Do you know how gentle you were with me tonight? How patient? Sensitive? Inspiring? You never raised your voice. You never barked at me for making a wrong decision. You never rushed me or made me feel inadequate. You taught me.” She clasped her hands together.
“You mentored me.” She tilted her face, giving me an even bigger smile. “You made me want more.”
I didn’t recognize the person she was describing, nor did I feel it in me. But as her words reverberated through my chest, one of the sentences really stood out.
“What kind of more are you talking about, Alivia?”
This was a fire.
A fire that had been roaring since the moment I had seen her in my kitchen.
A fire I didn’t want to put out.
She froze as she stared at me, but her eyes moved, from my left one to my right, back and forth, nonstop.
She was speaking without saying a single word.
“I … wasn’t referring to that … but yes. That.” She gulped. “Fuck, I—”
“Come here.”
“Walker …”
“Put your job out of your head, you’re not going to lose it, if that’s what you’re worried about.” I stretched my arm across the counter, opening up to her, my fingers stopping before they touched her. “But if you want me to kiss you, then you need to come here. Now.”