“You made all of this for three people?” she exclaimed.
“I always send Mom home with leftovers. She’ll insist she can fend for herself, but she gets tired easily, and it’s one less thing she’ll have to do,” he explained.
“Ahhh, you can insist you’re not a mama’s boy, but you’ve got a mighty big soft spot for her,” she teased.
Ty walked around the island and pulled out a chair for her. “I guess I do. But I love finding your sweet spot, too.”
She blushed and smiled. “Sledge’s wife, Kim, called me. Rocker gave her your number. The man took a bullet for me, and he asked her to see if I’m all right,” she said, shaking her head. “He told me to keep my ass here.”
“It sounds good to me,” Ty agreed. “Rocker texted me. He flew out this morning. I have no doubt he’ll show up at the hospital and demand your whereabouts.”
Scarlett sighed. “Can I help you with anything?”
“You can check the potatoes on the stove. I have some homemade limoncello and a bottle of wine in the cellar.”
Ty went down the hall to fetch the bottles. When he returned, Scarlett stood by the stove, hesitating.
“Have the potatoessoftened?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m afraid I’ll get burned,” she whispered. “The way around the problem hasn’t occurred to me yet.”
Ty stepped behind her. “Have you tried cooking since the attack?”
She grunted. “No.”
Placing a clean pan on the burner, Ty moved her to the counter beside the stove. He set a bowl in front of her and handed her four eggs and helped her put on a glove to cover her wounded hand. “Let’s start simple. Make some scrambled eggs.”
“Uh, Mr. Chef. You never make anything simple. My lame eggs will probably paralyze your taste buds,” she said nervously.
“They’ll be the tastiest ones to ever to grace my kitchen. I’ll eat them with relish. Use the rim of the bowl to crack it and add it to the bowl,” he encouraged.
Scarlett bit her lip. She tapped the egg gently and used her fingers to separate it. It burst open, covering her hands. “Shit.”
Ty covered them with a paper towel and led her the short distance to the sink. When she washed her hand and the glove, he sent her back to the counter. “Try again.”
Sighing, she tapped it a bit harder, and the shell came apart, dropping her prize into the dish. She grinned. Ty passed her another one. Concentrating, she did it again. Some of the shells fell on the counter, and she muttered while she searched for the missing pieces. When she discovered it, she held it out.
“You’ll find my garbage can under the sink,” he explained.
She nodded, catching on to Ty’s plan. She used her hand to guide herself back to the sink, and she threw away the shell. Returning to the bowl, she cracked the last egg.
“I left the whisk on your left side,” Ty said.
She beat them and waited for his following command.
“You’re doing beautifully, Scarlett. I’ll have to reward you later for all your hard work,” Ty assured her.
“I haven’t cooked them yet. It’s only right I give you fair warning. Even when I had my vision, my cooking consisted of pancakes and brownies from a box,” she blurted.
Ty chuckled. “The knobs for the burners are at your waist. I added the pan to the right burner, closest to you. I left you a spatula for stirring. I don’t expect perfection. We’re working to solve your problem.”
“How will I know when the pan gets hot without burning myself?” she asked.
“You can wave your hand above the skillet and gauge the heat or give it a few minutes and consider it done,” he explained.
Scarlett waved her hand, took the bowl, and poured the mixture into the pan. She reached for the spatula, waited a few minutes, and then started stirring.
“Feel the texture? At first it feels watery, then you feel the cooked section and when you don’t feel any more liquid, you’re done,” he coaxed.
