Til You Can’t #3
And the minute she was securely in his possession, a warm smirk flickered to life on his face.
“Your uncle’s an idiot,” he grumbled. “Come on, kid, let’s go find some paint chips to eat.
You can’t turn out any worse than my idiot kid did.
” Dad disappeared down the hall with her without a backward glance.
“Alright.” Mav sighed, drawing my attention to the kitchen island. “Let’s do this.”
Turns out, Maverick was right—as always. This wasn’t that tough. With him calmly, and slowly, reading me the directions I was able to do most of it on my own.
Might have to start calling me Chef Big Daddy after this.
“What. The hell. Done happened. To my kitchen?” I stilled as Mama’s shrill voice filled the room. Fuck, she sounded pissed.
“Mornin’ Mama!” I crowed, flashing her a bright, brilliant smile. The type she never seemed able to resist. “Sorry, I needed to use your oven and stuff. We’ll clean it all up when we’re done.”
Maverick harrumphed at my side. “Of course when he says ‘we’ he means me.”
Mama breezed into the kitchen, her light gaze scanning over our work. “Mornin’ Mav,” she hummed before kissing him on the cheek. “What are we bakin’? Sure smells good.”
“Mav’s teachin’ me how to bake chocolate croissants or pain ow shockolatte… as the French say.”
Mama’s brows rose, a bewildered scowl twisting her lips downward. “Why? You’ve never cooked a day in your life… Leastways nothin’ that don’t require microwavin’, and you usually make me do that.”
“Why do you think he suddenly wants to know how to make a very specific and somewhat obscure pastry?” Dad asked, materializing out of fucking nowhere with Stormie.
“Oh.” Mama pursed her lips, as if having to physically bite back a response.
She was better with Ollie, but let’s just say, she wouldn’t be inviting her to go shopping like she did with Charlie or Chey.
Or even still Jacie Lynn. Despite the fact she and I had been broken up for a while, Mama seemed intent to keep her around.
Hoping, praying I saw the light and begged for Jacie to take me back.
Except, as heavenly as Jacie Lynn was, I had no desire to be saved. Not when my little she-devil possessed my each and every thought.
Thankfully, Stormie Mae let out one of her little squeals of excitement, catching Mama’s attention and dimming her ire.
The moment her gaze landed on Stormie she switched to a cutesy baby voice, holding out her hands and saying, “Give me that blessed little baby right this very instant! Is your mommy here?”
“Not yet, she’ll be over a bit later.” Mav settled a glacial stare on me. “We got woken up a little early this mornin’, so she went back to bed for a bit.”
“Ohhh.” Mama hefted Stormie and gently rocked her from side to side. “Did someone with a poopy diaper wake up Mommy and Daddy?”
“Someone.” Mav nodded. “And someone with poop, but it was in his head, not his diaper.”
“Ha Ha. Enough yappin’. What’s the next step?” I asked.
“I gotta go to the bathroom.” Maverick took off his apron and set it on the counter. “Keep goin’ without me.”
“What?” I panicked. “No, I need you!”
I was a confident man. I could do damn near just about anything I set my mind to. Except cooking. Whatever shred of confidence I had in my abilities vanished right out the door along with my cousin.
“Oh, calm down, Cash.” Mama slapped my arm gently. “I can read you a recipe just as good as Mav can.”
Dad chuckled. “And I can tell you that you’re stupid even better than Mav.”
“Bad,” Mama warned a scowl forming on her lips as her head tilted to the side in that annoyed way of hers. “It is entirely too early in God’s beautiful day to be mean to your own son.”
Dad huffed but didn’t argue. I guess some battles just weren’t worth having.
“Okay, Mama.” Clapping my hands together, I offered her a warm smile. “Read me the next step. We’re about to add the chocolate.”
“I see Hershey’s bar wrappers all over the floor, but I don’t see any Hershey’s bars,” Dad growled.
“We needed ‘em,” I said quickly, before looking at my mom expectantly. “Mama? Next step?”
“Ain’t that some shit?” Dad grumped. “Dumbass comes over here to use our kitchen and can’t even bring his dad a chocolate bar.”
“Okay, let’s see here.” Mama picked up the recipe as she bounced Stormie on her hip. “Where. Are. We? Oh, okay. So…you got the chocolate melted, yes?”
I nodded and grabbed the pot of warm chocolate on the stove.
“Right. So, you just fold it in.” She looked up at me and smiled.
One of my eyebrows rose. “I—what?”
“Cash, honey, it’s easy…you just…well, you just…fold it into the other ingredients.”
I huffed. “What the hell does fold it in mean…?”
“Mama can’t teach you everything, sweet boy,” she said, offering me a soft, yet stern look. “Some things you gotta just figure out for yourself.”
“How far did you get?” Mav asked as he came back. “You didn’t do anythin’? You can’t really leave all this stuff sittin’ out too long.”
“Mama won’t explain to me what ‘fold in the chocolate’ means!” I muttered.
“What? Can I see that, Aunt Violet?” He took the paper from her. “Oh, it’s probably a translation error. You know, since the original recipe was in French? Just put the chocolate on the dough and roll it over.”
A couple hours later both batches were done and out of the oven. Everyone stood situated around the kitchen island as Mav dished up a plate for each of us. If nothing else they smelled good. Which had to be a good thing, right?
“Alright, moment of truth,” I said, holding the pastry up into the air as if making a toast.
Dad grumbled out something unintelligible, but Mama’s smile was reassuring. I took a bite, Mav and the others following suit quickly, and immediately grinned.
Ollie was gonna fucking love them.
Mama let out an appreciative little hum of approval, her light gaze sparking. “Well, my heavens, boys. These are really, really good.”
Dad already devoured most of his, but he nodded as he stuffed the last bite into his mouth before swallowing. “Might just be better than yours, darlin’.”
The look she aimed his way was sharp enough to cut glass.