Chapter 19 Trent
Imeasure out my dry ingredients while the mixer beats the eggs into the butter, sugar, and vanilla.
After my talk with Jade earlier today, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that her going to the Mayor's house for dinner is a terrible idea. I tried to distract myself with homework, but couldn’t focus.
So I went out and fed the horses, but that’s second nature at this point.
So baking it is. It’s a great way to keep my brain occupied. I’m too busy with measurements and steps to think about anything else because if I do, I’m most likely going to fuck it up or burn something.
Nobody likes burnt cookies, and if you do, you’re a monster.
I go to pour the oats into the bowl when someone grabs my arm. Startled, I turn without thought, pouring the oats all over the counter, floor, and someone’s shoes before coming face to face with the reason I’m baking, to begin with.
Shit.
“I… I’m so sorry,” I stutter as my brain attempts to catch up, more than a little confused by what’s happening right now.
“It’s okay,” she says, smiling at me even though I just dumped oats on her from about the knee down.
“It was my fault for sneaking up on you. I thought you would have heard me, but lesson learned. Next time, I’ll make more noise or call out.”
I can’t help but smile back despite my confusion, setting my now-empty bowl on the counter and running over to the closet to grab the broom.
Jade steps back and attempts to dust the fine powder off her legs. Unfortunately, she’s wearing black jeans, so it probably won’t all come off. Not that it matters. Jade has a way of being breathtaking, no matter what she does. Being covered in oat dust isn’t going to change that, it would seem.
I shake my head to dislodge the thought.
Now is not the time.
“Your mom let me in, told me you were in here baking,” she says, pointing over her shoulder towards the front hall. I nod but keep my focus on the task at hand, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world.
It’s not, but if I don't pay attention, I’m more than likely not going to get it done.
I hear the bowl clatter on the counter and look up, only to find Jade cleaning the counter.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought that was obvious,” she says, and while her back is to me, I can hear the smile on her lips.
Smartass.
“Yeah, okay, but why? You shouldn’t be cleaning up after me.”
“Well, I’m the reason for the mess, so I might as well help clean it up,” she says, looking back at me over her shoulder with a smile.
“You don’t have to do that. I can get it. Besides, it’s not your fault. I should have been paying attention.”
She shakes her head but goes back to cleaning up, and after a second, I go back to sweeping. She’s clearly not going to stop, so I’m not going to argue with her.
Between the two of us, we clean up the mess pretty quickly, throwing the wasted oats in the trash.
“Sorry about your pants,” I tell her because, as I thought, the powder is still pretty visible.
She shrugs as if it's not a big deal before turning back to the counter, where the ingredients for my cookies are still laid out. The mixer has long since stopped, meaning it’s ready for the dry ingredients.
I’m not exactly excited to keep baking now, but I’m already more than halfway done, so I get to work remeasuring out the oats.
Thankfully, my mom keeps the house pretty well stocked with random baking ingredients, so I didn’t have to scrap the whole thing.
Jade hops up on the counter, her legs dangling over the edge as she kicks them back and forth. I watch her for a moment from the corner of my eye. She’s so unlike most girls. It’s almost funny that I thought she would be upset over oats on her pants. Instead, it’s as if she couldn’t care less.
“What are you making?” she asks, watching me as I cross the kitchen to pour everything into the mixer and set it on low.
“Cookies,” I tell her while I throw in the butterscotch chips before turning to face her, leaning my hip against the counter across from her.
Her eyes light up, and again she smiles at me, and goddamn it, I can’t help but smile back. Thankfully, Hazel isn’t here, and Mom is nowhere to be found right now because I know they would give me huge shit for the dopey-ass smile I’m sure I’m sporting right now.
“I take it you like cookies?” I ask because I never know with her. She’s lived a life so different from anyone I’ve ever known, and sometimes the things she’s missed out on shock me.
She shakes her head as she grabs the countertop and leans forward slightly; her legs still sway back and forth.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a cookie before!” she tells me, and I feel my smile slip.
“Don’t do that,” she says, sitting back.
“Do what?” I ask, confused.
“Don’t let it upset you. We can’t change the past, but we can make the future better.” Her voice isn’t angry, but she has a faraway look in her eyes, and I get the feeling that whatever “better” is for her. She’s picturing it.
“Yeah, I’ve never had a cookie, but that also means I get to have my first one with you, which is pretty great.” She gives a little shrug, as if it's no big deal, but it still feels like one to me.
Her words twist my stomach, and I’m not sure if it’s because of her past or the fact that she seems genuinely happy to get to share this with me. It shouldn’t matter; it's just a cookie, but it does.
“I found out I have a pretty wicked sweet tooth when Roderick took me to the store a few weeks ago. He got me a cupcake, and it was one of the best things I’ve ever had!
” she says with a squeal, and it’s so unlike her normally guarded expression.
I might spend a bit of time with Jade, but most of it’s in school.
Here, she seems so normal and carefree; it’s almost like she’s a different person.
Not to mention the idea of Rick buying someone sugar.
The guy is a walking health nut. If she were anyone else, I would call bullshit, but I don’t even think she realizes how strange that is for him.
I wonder what Jade would be like if she didn’t have such a terrible past, if she could just be herself, without worrying about others. I bet she and Hazel wouldn’t have been all too different. Hell, even with her terrible past, they seem to get along great.
“Zander showed me YouTube, and I’ve found a few different videos on how to make treats, but I haven’t gotten to cookies yet.
Last week I made brownies; they weren’t very pretty, but they tasted so good.
I ate three of them before I had to make myself walk away.
I even licked the bowl; they said I shouldn’t online, but I couldn’t help myself.
” She ducks her head at her admission, looking sheepish, and it makes me want to comfort her.
“The first rule of good baking is you always lick the bowl,” I tell her seriously, and I’m rewarded with a smile that lights her face up and steals my breath away.
You would never guess she’s the head of a gang in Chicago or that she’s lived in the rings of sex traders for years.
I’ve seen firsthand the impact that all of that has had on her, but right now, it’s not the only thing to see.
Jade might be a badass, but under all of it, she’s pretty freaking normal, and seeing her like this feels like I’m seeing something few others get too.
Is this how she is with the guys? I can’t say I blame them for falling all over themselves if it is.
Not that I can say shit, really. I was under her spell from the moment they came out of the building with her in tow, and I couldn’t even tell you why at first, other than curiosity. Though I don’t think I can blame it on that anymore.
She doesn’t seem to notice my reaction as she hops down off the counter and comes to stand in front of the mixer, leaning over it to look inside.
I can’t take my eyes off her, as if drawn by a magnet, and I think it’s safe to say we’re well past plain old curiosity at this point.
“So what kind of cookies are these? Oh, are they chocolate? I love chocolate!” She watches the mixer as it turns the ingredients into a soft dough.
She’s so close it’s impossible to miss her pomegranate scent as it invades my brain.
Baking should easily drown out every scent in the room.
The oatmeal did a good job for a second there, but not with her this close.
She turns her attention back to me, and I realize she’s waiting for a response.
“They’re called oatmeal scotchies,” I tell her and watch as her face pinches in confusion.
Okay, I guess she’s never heard of them before.
I can’t really say I’m surprised. They're not a super favorite, like chocolate chip or peanut butter cookies, but they used to be popular. The recipe is from my grandma. It was mine and Hazel’s favorite growing up.
“They're oatmeal cookies with butterscotch morsels in them,” I explain, but the look of confusion doesn’t leave her face the way I expected it to.
“What’s butterscotch?” she asks, and I feel my brows climb up my forehead. I know a lot of people. Some don’t like butterscotch, some love it, and others have never tried it, but to have never even heard of it is kind of blowing my mind.
I push off the counter and move back over to the other side of the kitchen, where my dry ingredients are still laid out.
“I’m not really sure how to describe the flavor. I know they’re mostly butter and brown sugar, but they don’t exactly taste like brown sugar, so that doesn’t help,” I tell her, pouring a few morsels into my hand and heading back to her.
She looks down at the butterscotch that sits in my outstretched hand in offering and doesn’t hesitate to grab one.
“Well, that’s fine because I don’t think I’ve ever had brown sugar either, so it wouldn’t be a very helpful description for me. They kind of look like peanut butter,” she says as she holds one up to look at it before bringing it to her nose to smell it. “Oh, but they smell sweet.”
“Yeah, they’re sweet, but nothing like peanut butter.” I grab one for myself and hold it up.
“I’ll try one with you. On three?” I ask, and she nods.
“One, two, three.” She counts down so quickly that I hardly have time to pop my piece into my mouth with her. I’ve obviously had it before, but watching her eat it is new, and she doesn’t disappoint.
Her eyes go wide as she stares back at me before she hops off the counter, bouncing in excitement. “Oh my God, these are so freaking good!” she says, and I offer my hand out for her to take some more. She takes all of them and pops a few in her mouth before closing her eyes and moaning.
Holy shit. That’s not what I was expecting.
She pops the rest in her mouth and does a little shimmy that I can only think to describe as a happy dance before she opens her eyes again and takes a step right up to me.
“Could I help you make them and maybe try one? I can’t even imagine how good these must be!” She’s so excited that I’m nodding even before she’s finished asking.
How could I possibly say no when she’s so damn happy about something so simple as making cookies with me?
I have no reason to say no. I was making them anyway, so, of course, we can make them together.
Not to mention, I’m pretty sure her moan earlier is fucking with my head enough that even if I wanted to refuse her, I doubt I could form a coherent sentence.
“Yes!” she cheers, launching herself at me. “Thank you.”
Her words come out muffled, with her face buried in my shirt, but I hear them just fine. I also feel them in the heat against my chest as her mouth moves and her warm breath seeps through my shirt.
“No problem,” I tell her. My voice comes out strained, but I still wrap my arms around her to hug her back. I might be internally losing my shit, but I don’t need her to know that.
I release her after just a moment, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable. The moment my arm drops, she bounces back and looks up at me.
“Okay, tell me what to do, Officer,” she says with a teasing smile, and I damn near bite a hole in my cheek. She can’t just throw that around like that.
I take a breath to calm myself down before directing her to the pantry with the cookie trays that just so happen to be on the other side of our very large kitchen. She bounces away without a second thought, and I can’t pull my eyes away from her as she goes.
Shit.
This is going to be a problem.
While her back is turned, I take the time to adjust myself and pray to the fucking gods that she doesn’t call me that again. It was bad enough when she threw herself at me, but that fucking nickname could probably kill me.
How does Kratos survive her?
As she heads back over to me with the tray in hand, I push down most of my inappropriate thoughts in favor of giving Jade a somewhat normal experience.
Baking was supposed to take my mind off Jade, but somehow, I have a feeling that baking will never do that again after today.