“No. I can’t get over how fast you’re learning.”
“Oh.” She grinned, her cheeks reddening—a color that looked so fucking gorgeous on her. “I have a feeling the fish is only going to take five or six minutes on each side. A simple coating of pepper and garlic would probably be enough?”
“Four minutes.” I nodded. “And, yes, you’re right about the seasoning.”
“But before I start the fish, I need to think about thesauce.” Her hands went to her hips. “This is where I’m stumped. Sauce is a talent, and I don’t have it—at least not yet.”
“It’s okay. You’re going to learn.” I joined her at the stovetop and handed her several bottles that lived by the side of the range. “Based on experience—and because I’ve eaten hundreds of pieces of Chilean sea bass—I know that soy and citrus pair best with this fish. So, let’s make a soy-based vinaigrette with a nutty undertone.”
“How do I know how much to use?” She held the bottle of soy sauce over the pan.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to see someone fall in love with food.
“You’re mixing paint to find the color you’re after. Think of the flavors, Alivia. Which do you want to be heavier?”
I would chime in if I didn’t agree with any of the measurements she made. The only way to learn was to try and taste as you went, which she was doing with a small spoon that she kept dipping into the pan. But I didn’t have to say a word. I liked everything I saw.
I more than liked it.
I fucking loved it.
But I was no longer paying attention to the proportions she was using or the way she was stirring or how, at one point, she’d even grabbed a lemon and lime and juiced the inside and zested the outside.
What I stared at was her.
The way she was tackling something she’d never done before. How she was putting her nerves aside—assuming she had them—and trusting herself. How her presence was making me want to stand in this room and not ever leave it and feel emotions far beyond creativity.
Alivia was making me feel more.
She was making me want more.
“I don’t have a watch.” She set the fish onto the oiled pan, her voice causing me to surface from my thoughts. “Is there a timer in here?”
“First off, get yourself a watch. Second, there is a timer, but you’re not going to use it. I’m going to teach you how to know when to flip if you’re unable to keep track of the time.”
I grabbed a spatula while she mixed the vegetables and waited until I knew we were nearing the four-minute mark. “Put your hand on top of mine.” Her fingers clung to me as I tapped the back side of the fish, the feel of her skin on mine fucking explosive. “Do you feel that consistency?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you’re after. Nothing harder, nothing softer.” I gave her the spatula. “Now carefully flip the fish.”
Rather than watching, since she didn’t need the observation, I walked away to grab a plate, a fork and knife, and a cloth napkin and set it all on the counter. I also filled a glass with some sparkling apple juice and added that to the place setting.
“I think this is done,” she said when I rejoined her.
“You know what to do.”
She raised her shoulders high. “But I need to make it look beautiful …”
“Think of the painting, Alivia. The way the sun is rising or setting over the cabin. Now design your own version.”
She spooned several helpings of vegetables onto the plate in a circular pattern, leaving the center empty, and that was where she placed the fish. The sauce went over everything, just enough so that it pooled.
“What do you think?” Her hands lay flat on the counter while she stared at the finished product.
“You tell me.”
“Well,as for the presentation, I went for a sunrise.” She used her finger to trace the arch over the chopped veggies, and when she reached the bottom of the plate, she gazed at me. “You would have gone for a sunset.”
