Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll love it.”
He gave me a tentative look. “Are you sure you have time for this? Because I can come back another time.”
“This is a great time.” I looked down at my apron to make sure there was no food on it. “Is there anything you want to start with? Do you know how to make scrambled eggs?”
“Yeah, but they always stick to the pan.”
I smiled and headed for the walk-in cooler. “The answer is butter!” I cupped a hand around my mouth like I was telling him a secret. “In cooking, the answer is often butter.”
He washed his hands and I gave him two eggs to crack into a stainless bowl. He swore several times and had to pick little eggshell bits out of the bowl, but he got the job done.
“What’s the secret to not getting shells in there?” he asked.
“Practice.”
He passed me two eggs. “Let’s see how you do it.”
I cracked each egg against the counter at the same time, then positioned them over the bowl and let the contents fall into the bowl. Holt arched his brows and grinned.
“I’m never cracking an egg in front of you again.”
I smiled. “I’ve cracked thousands of eggs over the years. It just becomes second nature.” I pass him a whisk. “Whisk until they’re combined but not frothy.”
While he whisked, I added in a splash of Worcestershire sauce and ground fresh salt and pepper into the bowl. When he was done whisking, I passed him a hand grater and a block of fresh cheddar.
“Grate and I’ll tell you when,” I said. “This is going to be about one-eighth of a cup, just enough to add some flavor.”
He grated until I told him to stop. I showed him how to measure two tablespoons of butter and add them to a skillet.
“When it melts, move the skillet around to coat the whole bottom,” I say.
Soon, he was pouring the eggs into the skillet and I showed him how to gently move them with a spatula.
“Okay, time to remove it from the heat,” I say when they’re done.
He lowered his brows with concern. “Okay, I’ve been overcooking scrambled eggs my whole life.”
“That’s okay, most people do.”
Once the eggs are on a plate, I get two forks and we exchange a look.
“I have a great feeling about these,” he says.
We both got a bite at the same time, and he groaned as he got a taste of the finished product.
“Those are seriously the best eggs I’ve ever had.”
“I get our eggs and butter from the most amazing little organic farm. It’s amazing how much the way food is grown and raised affects the flavor.”
He just looked at me for a second, his attention unnerving.
“What?” I ask.
“Sorry.” He looked away and then back at me. “I just like your enthusiasm for what you do. It’s so clear you love this.”
I sighed softly. “I’m here at least sixty hours a week, so I guess it’s good that I love it.”
His expression changes and he looks away. “Don’t miss out on life for your work. I learned that lesson the hard way.”
“What do you mean?”
“My ex-wife and I are completely over, but in the aftermath of what happened with us, I went to counseling and it helped me realize what I did to contribute to the end of the relationship. I should have been more present for her and the kids, but I gave most of my time and energy to hockey.”
I opened my mouth to respond, then closed it again.
“What were you going to say?” he asked.
“Something I thought better of.”
He nudged me. “What?”
“There’s no excuse for cheating. That’s my opinion, anyway.”
“Trust me, I agree. But I wouldn’t have the relationship I do with my kids if my ex hadn’t cheated and left.” He shrugged. “I’m grateful I made the changes I did, no matter what made me do it.”
“That makes sense. Spencer and Marley are lucky to have you for a dad.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“How about if I show you how to make a really good butter garlic chicken? It’s usually a kid favorite when we make it here.”
“Sounds amazing.”
I gathered ingredients for the next dish, remembering what I’d said to Avon less than an hour ago.
No matter how attracted I was to Holt, he was still finding his footing as a single dad. I needed to keep my distance. If I stayed nothing more than a friend to him, Spencer and Marley, I’d never have to worry about things going south after a breakup.
So, as hard as it was, I kept the focus on cooking.
Mostly. I couldn’t help sneaking a few glances at his arm muscles in his T-shirt.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Holt
“Dad, can Shea show you how to make these?” Spencer asked through a mouthful of banana walnut pancakes.
“I’ll ask her.”
Both of my kids had devoured a stack of pancakes and several pieces of bacon, but since it was Summer Showdown day, I’d gone lighter with some toast and scrambled eggs. I was going to miss waking up and coming to the dining hall for breakfast here. Work on our house was coming along nicely, but I’d reserved our suite here for another month and I already knew we’d stay for every day of it, even if the house was ready for move-in sooner.