Chapter 23 #2
“Eccelente.” She watches him a moment longer, appreciation on her gorgeous face. With one last stare, she turns and continues to the next table.
“Wow, women love you.”
“It’s the forearms. Women can’t resist.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Yeah, that’s it. The forearms. Not the mesmerizing eyes or the perfect, brilliant smile or the brooding nature that makes a girl think ‘I can fix him.’”
“What’s there to fix?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Your attitude, mostly.”
He chuckles, then his expression turns thoughtful. “You really think I have mesmerizing eyes and a brilliant smile?”
No sense in lying now. Especially when the way the compliment seems to have him radiating a whole new sense of charm and confidence that makes it harder to get away from him.
“I do.”
His smile is so wide that I’m happy I was honest. I mentally start filing away compliments and jokes and anecdotes that can make him smile every time I talk to him.
I watch in a trance as he works, like this is his second nature. It looks so effortless for him. “I hate how good you are at this.”
He grins. “Friendly reminder that it is my job.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah yeah.”
Reid smiles, warm and bright, and I melt a little.
He reaches a hand out, gently cupping my chin, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me right here in the middle of an Italian pasta class.
He stares at me, I hold my breath, and he waits so long I get lightheaded.
With a soft smile, he brushes a thumb on my cheek like he’s wiping away stray flour.
When the dough is wrapped in plastic wrap and resting on the counter, our station and hands both cleaned up as we wait to cut it, Reid sets a sharp-looking knife and wooden cutting board in front of us, topping the board with ripe red tomatoes.
I, in a sudden urge to prove myself as on par with him, grab the knife and start slicing the vegetable.
At the sound of the knife thudding against the cutting board, Reid looks up from where he’s setting a big, silver pot on the burner at our station.
“What are you doing?” he asks slowly.
“Cutting tomatoes.” I bite my bottom lip as I line the knife up with the tomato and slice off an uneven piece. Reid cringes next to me.
“Why?”
“To show you that you are not the only one who’s good at cooking.”
Another lopsided slice. A dramatic sigh from Reid. “Jeez, Jane, give me that. You’re going to hurt yourself.” He gently pries the knife from my fingers and bumps me with his hip so I step to the side.
“Why does no one have any confidence in my cooking abilities?”
“Well for starters you almost just chopped off your thumb.”
I blow out a sigh to keep from crying instead. Absolutely no one has any faith in me, yet I somehow keep getting asked to do more and more things. And getting backhanded comments in the process.
The sound of a knife hastily zipping across a cutting board drags my attention back to the present. Back to Reid as his broad hands quickly slice the carrots faster than I ever would’ve been able to.
“Oh my god, Reid.”
He looks up at me, a stray strand of dark hair falling over his forehead. “What?”
“How did you do that so quickly?”
He smirks, grabbing another tomato from the basket. “Years of practice. Also training at culinary school.”
“No wonder you took the knife from me. I’d be nowhere near close to done with that.”
“No, I took the knife from you because I don’t want to have to Google where the nearest hospital is for stitches when you inevitably draw blood.”
“Why does no one believe in me?” I blurt out. I immediately wish I could take the words back as the mortification of the admission burns through my chest. Reid slowly lowers the knife, something shifting in his gaze. The amusement makes way for something softer. Concern maybe?
“What do you mean?”
I lean a hip against the counter and look down at my apron, fidgeting with the tie so I don’t need to meet his gaze as I lay it all on the line. “I just mean that everyone puts lofty expectations on me, but when I put my all into it, no one ever thinks I do anything well enough.”
“Like what?”
“Like making the dessert for Kate’s shower.
My mom said it was a huge honor and I had to take it seriously, but then told me the day before that if I ruined everything Kate would never forgive me.
” Reid blows out a breath beside me, but I trudge ahead, somehow feeling lighter with each word that leaves my lips.
“Kate said she asked Lydia to be her maid of honor because she can handle more, yet I’m somehow the one doing everything.
And everything I do for Lydia she somehow manages to find fault with.
” I gesture to the cutting board between us and the pile of diced red tomatoes on it.
“Even you didn’t trust me to chop tomatoes. ”
Reid sets the knife on the cutting board and wipes his hands on his apron. His jaw is set now as she takes me in. Then he steps close enough that I catch his lemon and rosemary scent. I breathe it in unabashedly, the smell enough to relax my nervous heart.
“I didn’t take the knife away because I think you’re incapable. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“How do you know I would’ve gotten hurt?”
A hint of a smile touches his lips. “You weren’t curling your fingers.”
I tilt my head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, when you chop vegetables you need to curl your fingers under to avoid injury.”
I can feel my brows connecting, a look of absolute confusion on my face. He laughs at my expression. “For someone who claims to watch a lot of Food Network, I’m surprised you didn’t pick up that technique.”
I scoff. He smirks again. My heart picks up just a fraction at how handsome he is when he smiles.
I shake it off and focus.
“Do you want me to show you?” he asks softly.
“Show me what? How to chop vegetables?”
“Yes.” I stare at him for a beat. Then he steps closer, hooking a finger under my chin and nudging it up just to ensure I don’t look away, which is exactly what I was considering doing as he got so close.
“You’re a determined woman, Jane. You’re capable of anything given the correct tools and teachings.
I’m sure you can be a great cook with practice.
Let me help you get there. That way you can tell everyone to shut up. Prove them wrong.”
I watch him for a moment, the words circling in my brain. Finally, I say, “Please.”
“Please?”
“Please teach me.”
A cocky smile touches his lips and he drops my chin. “I never in my life thought I’d hear you begging me for something.”
I roll my eyes. “You wish that was begging.”
His eyes sparkle like the sun on the water outside my room and my insides turn to molten lava. “I do.”