Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
G abe looked at all the ingredients on the counter. What am I doing? Why didn’t I start with something simple? How about learning to boil water? He shrugged. Oh well. I’m in it now. Genevieve popped back into the kitchen, holding up a small duffel bag triumphantly. “Guess it pays to be lazy.” She rummaged through the bag, pulling out clothes. “I visited my Aunt Tracey this past weekend and hadn’t gotten around to getting my bag out of the car.” She frowned at the clothes. “I’ll toss these in the wash, so I at least have a few things to wear.”
Gabe led her to the laundry room where she quickly put the clothes in the washer. She smiled at him. “Let’s get cooking.”
The wind roared across the heavy logs of the cabin. Gabe watched as the snow continued to stack up against the large windows in the kitchen. It was almost completely dark now, and the thought crossed his mind that he would be much more worried if Genevieve hadn’t shown up on his doorstep. It seemed like she knew how to handle any situation. He studied her across the kitchen, as she scrutinized the cookbook that he’d borrowed from her library. She would make an excellent queen. He frowned. Queen? Where had that come from? He shook his head and focused on the ingredients spread across the counter. “I think I’ve got everything we need.”
Genevieve didn’t even look up. She nodded, continuing to read the cookbook. Her reading glasses slipped down her nose, and she pushed them up in one absentminded maneuver. She looks so cute and smart, just like the little librarian that she is.
“You got Arborio rice, right?”
Gabe felt like he’d just been called out by a teacher for not paying attention in class. He fumbled for the bag of rice before reading the label. “Arborio.” He held the bag up and grinned. “Got it.”
Genevieve looked up from the recipe. “Well, this doesn’t look too bad. Why don’t you put the chicken broth on low heat while I chop these onions?”
Chicken broth. He grabbed the carton of chicken broth and one of the brand new large pots Fairfax insisted he purchase. “How much do I use?”
Genevieve opened drawers, rummaging for something. “We’ll need six cups. Do you have any measuring cups?”
“Yeah, they’re up here.” He walked over to her and opened the top cabinet, retrieving several measuring cups. He stared down into her chocolate eyes, noticing the amber ring around her pupils. He glanced at her full lips, then took a deep breath. “Okay, six cups.”
She smiled at him, which made him even more distracted. He turned knocking some garlic and onions off the counter. “Bugger...” He bent to retrieve the vegetables at the same time as Genevieve and ended up knocking her down. He tripped over her leg, sprawling on top of her. He could feel the cold floor beneath his hands and her warm body beneath his. She smelled like peaches again. He couldn’t seem to move but was transfixed by a lock of her dark hair. He ran his hand gently over her hair, feeling the silk slide through his fingers.
“Gabe...” She looked up at him, her eyes wide and dark as night.
“Hmmm...” He leaned forward slightly. He looked down at her lips, so close he could almost touch them.
“Gabe, I can’t breathe.” She took a shallow breath, and he realized he was putting his full weight on her. He shifted to his side, embarrassed.
“I’m so sorry.” He stood, offering her a hand. He pulled her to her feet. “Somehow I’ve ended up on top of you twice in the few days I’ve known you.” He winked. “I think I’ve set a new record.”
She picked up the dish towel and threw it at him, laughing. “Why don’t you measure that chicken broth, stud? Make yourself useful.”
He grinned and obeyed. They took turns stirring the rice until the smell of the risotto filled the house. He painstakingly chopped lettuce to make a simple salad, and Genevieve gathered bottles of olive oil, white wine vinegar, and pepper.
Gabe frowned at the bottles. “What’s all that for?”
Genevieve poured the olive oil in a small glass bowl. “You can make a great salad dressing with just a little oil, white wine vinegar, and pepper.” She stirred the ingredients, then held the bowl up to him. “See?”
Gabe nodded. “How do you know how to do that?”
“My grandmother taught me. Nana is an excellent cook.” Genevieve’s eyes glowed. “She’s truly the best. I’ve cooked with her ever since I was a little girl.”
I wonder if Gram can cook. He’d never asked. The Queen Mother didn’t need to cook; she had servants who did that for her. Still, he’d be interested to know. “I’m impressed. She sounds amazing.”
“She really is.” Genevieve held a small spoon up for him to taste the dressing.
The tartness of the vinegar mixed with the rich oil made for a lovely combination. “It’s perfect.”
Genevieve grinned. “And so easy.” She pulled open different cabinet doors and drawers, finding the new dishes and silverware his father’s valet, Fairfax, had purchased for the house. Fairfax was nothing if not organized. In no time, she’d set the table, scrounging up cloth napkins and placemats from somewhere, and finished the décor off with two brass candlesticks with tall white candles. Gabe shook his head. Fairfax thinks of everything.
Gabe pulled out her chair. “Sit,” he said, smiling easily. “Let me serve you.” He gingerly picked up the skillet, serving her a heaping helping of risotto, then filled his own plate. He poured them both large amounts of red wine, lit the candles, and then sat down.
The candlelight gave her a soft glow. She looks like an angel. His pulse quickened. “I’m rather glad you found yourself stranded here tonight. This has been fun.”
She tipped her glass toward him. “Well, thank you for the kind hospitality.” She smiled. “Now, let’s eat.”
After cleaning up the kitchen, they set about more practical matters. Gabe filled up the water jugs, while Genevieve organized the canned goods. She turned each can so the label showed clearly on the front. It was a quirk of hers. Her pantry was always organized within an inch of its life. She looked at all the canned food. She chuckled under her breath. Starvation isn’t going to be an issue.
Genevieve thought about what her dad usually did when they faced winter storms. He’d always say fill the tubs. When can finished filling the water jugs, she turned to him, reminding herself not to bark orders. “We need to fill the bathtubs up with water to use in case we need it to help flush toilets.” Not the sexiest statement that had ever come out of her mouth but necessary.
His brow furrowed, then understanding dawned on his face. “Will do, boss.” He started to walk away.
“Wait,” she said. “I better take a fast shower. Just in case it’s the last one I get for a while. I’ll be quick.” I don’t want to look like a greasy hot mess around him. Did I put a bottle of dry shampoo in my bag for Aunt Tracey’s? She hoped so, in case the pipes froze. Her hair only looked good unwashed for two days max.
Gabe nodded. “Okay, I’ll fill up the tub and sink in my bathroom. Anything else I need to do?”
He looked so eager to help. He really is such a nice guy. “Just make sure we get candles and flashlights in one place. We also need to get extra blankets for your bed and stack plenty of firewood in the bedroom.” She smiled at him. “I think that will cover most of the bases.”
Gabe nodded. “Sounds good to me. I will put all the candles and flashlights in the nightstand in my room, except for one of each in the guest room.”
Genevieve felt safe and calm being with him. The storm felt more like a fun adventure than a weather disaster. She thought that might mean something but didn’t want to analyze it further.