Chapter 6
“Your rolling-into-the-New-Year, aka belated Christmas present, should be here soon.” Morgan slid the gift, wrapped in Santa paper dancing around a Christmas tree and holding hands with children, mesmerized by the twinkling lights, toward him. “This is part of it.”
“Is it fragile?” Wyatt lifted the box.
“Nope. Shake away.”
He gave it a firm shake. “It doesn’t rattle, and it’s lightweight.”
“Any guesses?”
“The Edge Pro Series heavy-duty zip lining gloves I’ve been wanting to buy.”
“Nope.” Her eyes twinkling with mischief, Morgan placed her hands behind her back and rocked onto her heels. “Not even close.”
“New sheets for my bed?”
She laughed out loud. “You need new sheets?”
“Yeah. Hmmm.” Wyatt set the gift on the counter. “I give up.”
“Then, I guess you’ll have to open it.” She began humming under her breath, anticipating the look on her boyfriend’s face while he tore the paper off the package.
He lifted the lid and removed the black apron, a caricature of Wyatt holding grilling tools and standing next to a charcoal grill. Below it read, Mr. Good Lookin’ is Cookin’ in big, bold letters.
“You captured my inner chef-tise,” he joked. “I love it. Is this a subtle hint you want me to do more cooking?”
“You already do plenty of cooking for us.” Morgan plucked the apron from the box. “You’ll need to put this on.”
“So you do want me to cook.”
“In a roundabout way,” she answered evasively. “Like I mentioned, this is only part of your gift.”
The front doorbell rang, and Morgan held up her finger. “He’s here.”
“Who’s here?”
“I’ll be right back.” She darted out of the kitchen, returning moments later with chef and local cooking channel host “Gusto from the Great Lakes” close behind.
Wyatt’s eyes widened. “Chef Gusto.”
“With a little persuading on my part…more like begging and bribing, I was able to book a private cooking lesson with him,” Morgan said.
He stepped forward and shook the man’s hand so hard Chef Gusto’s head wobbled. “This is such an honor. I’m a huge fan of your show.”
“Thank you. When Ms. Morgan sent me an email explaining that you were a first responder, an officer on Easton Island, I was delighted to put you on my calendar to come here for a one-on-one cooking lesson.”
Morgan scooched past them. “I have the ingredients you asked me to pick up.” She began emptying the fridge—thawed chicken breasts, packs of pepperoni along with bags of mozzarella—and set them next to the spices and cans of crushed tomatoes.
After assembling the ingredients, she tiptoed out of the way while Wyatt and Gusto got down to business.
The chef moved quickly, explaining the process used to make his famous one-pan pizza chicken.
Wyatt, at first starstruck, jumped right in, working alongside the chef, mixing ingredients and preparing the meat.
Morgan, thrilled she’d picked out the perfect gift for her boyfriend, used her cell phone to videotape snippets of the cooking class.
While the meat cooked, Wyatt whipped up a bowl of antipasto salad, using Chef Gusto’s secret homemade blend of spices and seasonings.
Chester, on the prowl for wayward scraps of food, got in the way, nearly tripping Wyatt in his quest for treats.
“Time for a time-out, before someone gets hurt.” Morgan scooped him up and carried him to her bedroom. She fed him a handful of treats and promised to let him out when the cooking class finished.
Returning to the dining room, Morgan set the table using her mother’s Blue Danube dinnerware, pieces she brought out only for special occasions, along with Laura’s set of sterling silver.
It took a few adjustments before the place setting arrangement finally met her approval. Morgan poured Chinotto, a sour citrus Italian beverage, into her favorite crystal tumblers.
To set the mood, she turned her Alexa on to a playlist offering soft classical music. She dimmed the lights and lit the candles, just in time for Chef Gusto and Wyatt to bring in the food.
After the loaf of crusty bread, the one-pan pizza chicken and antipasto salad were placed on the table; the trio took their seats.
“Bon appétit.” Chef Gusto raised his glass and toasted them.
“Bon appétit.”
The trio dug into the savory meal. While they ate, the chef entertained them with anecdotes, both funny and disastrous, behind-the-scenes incidents that had taken place on the set.
In what seemed like the blink of an eye, the meal ended.
“I have dessert.” Morgan sprang from her chair and returned with a gourmet cheesecake tray offering a variety of pieces, including her favorite white chocolate raspberry.
They lingered over the decadent treat and ended the visit with Chef Gusto patiently posing for a round of photos. “It was a lovely meal. Thank you for booking this private cooking class. I thoroughly enjoyed meeting both of you.”
“Same here,” Wyatt said. “And I appreciate the tips you gave me.”
The chef tapped his forehead. “We each have our own special skills in the kitchen. You, my new friend, have a host of them.”
“Thank you again for helping me arrange the perfect gift.” Morgan bounced on the tips of her toes and gave him a quick hug.
“Donna dolce.” The chef’s cheeks turned a tinge of pink. “You have a very sweet girlfriend, Wyatt.”
“Who spoils me rotten.” Wyatt escorted him out and returned, a smile lighting his entire face. He swept Morgan up and twirled her around. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”
“Maybe a time or two.” Morgan leaned back until their eyes met. “Am I your Donna dolce?”
“Always and forever.”
A flicker of movement caught Morgan’s eye. Chester’s paw stuck out from beneath the bedroom door. “Whoops. I forgot all about Chester.” Darting to the door, she eased it open.
The pup trotted out, an annoyed frown on his face. He refused to look at Morgan. With his nose in the air, he walked past her and directly into the kitchen.
“Sorry, buddy. I forgot about you in the excitement.” Morgan dug a handful of his favorite treats from her pocket and fed them to him.
He gobbled them up and pawed at her leg, his signal that all was forgiven.
Working together, Wyatt and Morgan cleaned the kitchen in record time.
“I think a stroll down by the lake is the perfect end to our evening.”
“You read my mind.” Calling her pup, Morgan and Wyatt bundled up and headed across the street.
Wyatt took her arm, ambling at a leisurely pace. “I’ve been meaning to ask—how is it going with Tristan?”
“Brett and I met with his teacher, Ms. Blanchard, this morning. The good news is he’s enrolled in a small class. The bad news is he’s in a small class.”
“What are there…fifty kids in the entire Easton Island Public School system?”
“Close. Forty-five to be exact. There are two boys and one girl Tristan’s age.” Morgan told him about her spa day and movie date with Quinn. “She’s struggling.”
“Because Brett is focusing all of his attention on his son.”
“Yeah. She understands, but still…it’s tough.”
“Do you think Brett will ever ask her to marry him?”
“I…I’m sure, eventually.” Morgan answered, thinking back to when Brett had shown Elizabeth and his sister the engagement ring he’d commissioned, planning to propose to Quinn only hours before Jeff Blakely and Tristan had shown up on Easton Estate’s doorstep.
Having been sworn to secrecy, which was probably a good thing considering everything was now up in the air, Morgan had no idea if or when her brother would eventually propose.
“I ran into Ronni and Jax the other day having coffee at Ariel’s Bean Brewing coffee shop.”
“Aren’t they cute together? I’m so happy for them.”
“Me too. They seem to have finally realized what most of us have known for a long time.” Wyatt changed the subject. “My parents asked about you during Christmas.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to see them. We’ll have to hop on the ferry to the mainland soon and take them out to lunch. How is your dad doing?”
“Better, although his knee is still giving him a little trouble. They asked about us.”
“What about us?”
“If…you know…if I’m going to pop the question.”
Morgan slowed. “A marriage proposal?”
“Yeah. I told them after what you went through with Jason you were a little gun-shy.”
“More like a lot.” Morgan sneaked a sly side glance. “Is a proposal imminent?”
Wyatt hesitated. “Maybe.”
She stopped dead in her tracks. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Not now.”
Morgan reached for his hand. “I love you, Wyatt.”
“I love you too.”
“You’re one of the best things that’s happened to me since I moved to Easton Island. I would be lost without you.”
“I feel the same.”
“But you’re right.”
“About being afraid,” Wyatt said.
“Jason put me through the wringer. Maybe not gun-shy but suffering from PJSD…Post-Jason Stress Disorder.”
“I get it, and I’m not pushing. Someday…one day when you least expect it, I might ask you to marry me, but I think I know you well enough to know when the time is right.”
She placed her hand on his cheek, a warmth running down her spine when their eyes met, his filled with nothing but love. “You know this isn’t about you or about us. It’s about me.”
“Yeah. I get it. I suppose if I had been stalked and kidnapped by my ex, I would be cautious too.”
“I appreciate your support and patience more than you know.”
“Enough of the serious talk,” Wyatt said. “What does your schedule look like for the rest of the week?”
“Working and hanging out with Tristan. Brett has another meeting in Toronto he’s postponed twice and needs to make happen, so I invited Tristan to hang out with me tomorrow. He’ll be starting school soon, which means he’ll have a more structured routine.”
“Awesome Aunt Morgan to the rescue,” Wyatt said. “Why don’t you bring him by the station? Kids get a kick out of meeting cops.”
“What a great idea. I bet he would love it.”
“I have a mandatory monthly meeting and won’t be starting my regular shift until later in the afternoon. I should be free by ten and can give him a tour then.”
“Thanks, Wyatt.” Morgan leaned in to give him a quick kiss.
Anticipating the move, he turned his head and captured her lips, kissing her soundly…long enough so that by the time she pulled back she was out of breath.
“You’re welcome.” He grasped her arm, coaxing her to pick up the pace. “I don’t know about you, but cuddling in front of a cozy fire sounds like the perfect way to end the day.”
“A romantic evening, just the two of us. I can’t think of anything better.”