A knock sounded at the door, and Cali slid through the kitchen in her stocking feet, a faint hum of anticipation running through her veins. She opened the door, and the porch light bled around Ethan. He looked soft and unreal, like a fever dream. Bruised sky against his back, the last light flickering through amber oaks. Sleeves pushed up. Hair damp from the chill. He wore a gray-blue Henley, blue enough to match the dusk. His arms cradled a pot stuffed with kitchen utensils, both hips hugged by bags of groceries.
“May I?” he said with a smirk.
“Oh, shit. Sorry. Yes. Come in.”
The cold air carried toward them, damp with the smell of woodsmoke and fallen leaves. Cali’s breath fogged as she exhaled. She moved aside, closed the door, and helped Ethan unpack after he set it all down on the countertop.
Her kitchen was narrow and old-fashioned, like a hallway with cabinets and equipment running along its sides. Far too small for both to be in it, their bodies knocking into each other clumsily.
Then Ethan spotted Max. His voice hitched up. “Hey, little guy!” He bent down, and although Max froze in place for a moment, Ethan extended a fist toward him, and the kitten happily plodded over. Ethan cradled Max in his arms as Cali unpacked the last utensil.
“You want me to get something started,” Cali offered, “while you two get reacquainted?”
“Nah.” He rubbed Max’s belly and a loud purr echoed up to the ceiling. “I poured you a glass of wine, by the sink.” He nodded his head in that direction. “Your only job tonight is to sit and relax.”
Cali didn’t want to admit how comforting that sounded. After the build-up toward her case for Banned Books Week, she needed as few obligations as possible tonight. Even her coworkers told her to take tomorrow off after she shared the good news. She deserved it. They had the library covered. Even if things slightly fell apart in her absence, she could put it back together come Wednesday.
She traipsed back to the kitchen and lifted the red wine glass to her lips and felt her muscles relax.
“It’s the same wine in thecoq au vin,” Ethan said, nuzzling Max’s nose with his. “So it pairs well. Like a sensory bridge between appetizer and dinner.”
“Sensory bridge,” she murmured against her glass. “Fancy.”
He glanced over his shoulder and placed Max on the carpet. “Oh, and I made you, like, a ‘charcuterie for one’ plate. In case you wanted to nibble beforehand.” He walked back to the fridge and handed her a plate she hadn’t even noticed him unpack in the chaos of bags, pots, and pans. “This dish could take a while to simmer.”
She stared down at the paper plate, flowers printed along the rim. Thin-sliced prosciutto, a small handful of red grapes, briecheese, and candied pecans stared back. She popped one of the grapes into her mouth and chewed. “How thoughtful of you.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow and tried to pull his gaze from her lips. “Have all the other men who’ve cooked for you failed to provide an appetizer?”
She shimmied past him and slipped onto one of the two chairs at the high-top table that overlooked her garden. Her stocking feet dangled above the floor, and as she devoured a candied pecan, she was taken back to her childhood. All the times when she felt taken care of in this kitchen, all the times someone else had to be in charge. “You are, indeed, the first.”
“First one with an appetizer?” he asked, somewhat astonished. The bacon on the stove began to pop and fizz. “Point one for me.”
“No,” she clarified, “first one to cook me dinner.”
“Well,” he said, running a thumb over his jaw, “that’s gotta be worth at least 10 points.”
“I’ll be sure to add it to your scorecard at the end of the night.”
Ethan navigated her tiny kitchen like he’d lived there for years, sleeves rolled, forearms flexing, the scent of wine and garlic filling the whole room. She smiled at him, the warmth from the oven curling through the air between them. She felt completely relaxed watching him in the moment. Still, her heart seemed to skip a beat when Ethan approached her with a fork pierced through a tiny portion of bacon, his hand cupped underneath.
“I’ll need a taste-tester. You up for the task?”
She faked a whine. “I thought you said my only job was to relax.” But she put down the charcuterie plate and opened her mouth just wide enough for him to slip the bacon between her lips. When she bit down, a savory crisp and flash of juicy, smoky flavor filled her cheeks. She leaned back and covered her mouthas she chewed. His fork still hovered between them. “What on earth did you do to that bacon?”
His face fell. “Something wrong?”
“God, no. It’s the best bacon I’ve ever had. Are you sure you didn’t buy, like, unicorn meat?”
One of those devastating, eye-wrinkling grins broke across his face. “Add those points to the scorecard, too, then.”
He returned to the stove, still grinning from ear to ear, and let Cali sip on her wine.
After a while she asked, “How long does it take to simmer?”
“You that hungry?”
“Not exactly.” She looked down at her plate and noticed she’d already plowed through everything but the brie and a couple of the pecans. “Just pacing myself.”
