I tapped two spoons together to get his attention.
He whipped his head at me, eyes wide. “You need anything?”
I shook my head, then signed,Let’s order takeout.
“What, why?” He blinked as if in a daze.
I loosely gestured at the messy kitchen counter, then at his disheveled appearance.
He glanced at himself, then returned his gaze to me again. “I don’t get it.”
I sighed.You look crazy, and the kitchen looks chaotic. It’s like a storm hit it.
“Gee, babe; thanks,” he muttered while scratching his head. “Your confidence is highly appreciated.”
I clicked my tongue.I just don’t want you to tire yourself. We can simply order in.
“But I wanna make dinner for you myself,” Myles argued, and God, I all but melted in the chair at that. He was cute, wasn’t he?
Okay, I signed.Let me help, at least. Please?
He exhaled loudly. “Well, thank fuck you offered, because I have no fucking idea what I’m doing.”
I chuckled.You should have just asked.
“And hurt my pride in the process, especially after the text you sent to your grandfather?” He bent forward. “Hard pass, babe.”
I laughed.But still, here we are, are we not?
He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at me. “Just help me with this so that we can eat. I’m hungry.”
Sure, I told him, then dragged an empty bowl close to me, along with the glass jar containing all-purpose flour in it.Chicken stock?I asked Myles. I had to spell the word ‘stock’ because the meaning for it that I was going for, didn’t exactly have a sign.
He looked at me for a beat too long, then nodded. “Right.” He tapped a round pan. “It’s in here. It’s cooled down now, so I’ll take the boiled chicken pieces out and hand over the stock to you.”
Okay, I signed, and we then got into a rhythmic back-and-forth of working together.
I made a consistent dough by mixing the chicken stock, flour, some butter, and salt, while Myles minced the chicken in a mixer and prepped it for cooking the filling for theCoxinha.
The room soon began smelling of paprika and parsley, to which I smiled at him, then oiled my palms so that I could make small, flat circles from the dough.
Myles sautéed the mixture gently, careful not to make it mushy. He then switched off the gas, grabbed a chunk of the cooked filling, blew on it, and offered it to me.
I leaned in and wrapped my lips around his fingers, and his eyes momentarily went dark as he stared at me.
My heart began beating a little faster as I moved back and tasted the filling, and he brought his fingers to his mouth before sucking on them one by one.
It were these little moments that drove me nuts and made me fall further in love with this man. It didn’t have to be anything grand, or anything remotely unique, even, because everything Myles did was special to me, no matter how big or small the act.
As I sat back in the chair and continued to taste the filling, a burst of flavor hit my tongue, making my jaw tingle.
“Good?” he asked, looking a little unsure.
I grinned and gave him a thumbs up, because Christ, the filling was fuckingawesome.
He visibly relaxed before giving me a smile. “Great. So, now we’ve gotta put the filling into the dough circles and give them a teardrop shape, right?”
I nodded.
