"Campaign manager?" Garrett said. There was a slight flash of teeth. Was that a grin? His eyes almost crinkled.
"The costume contest is very competitive," I said. "People go all out. There’s backstabbing and saboteurs. One year, we thought Ida had murdered Art to win the contest. He collapsed dramatically on stage. Turns out he was just drunk. But you can see that people in this town take Halloween very seriously."
Garrett fastened one of the pasta makers to the countertop. His sleeves were rolled up, and I admired the way the tendons and muscles in his forearms flexed.He could knead my pasta any day of the week.Also, now that I had the image of him dressed up as Mr. Darcy, complete with a top hat, I couldn’t scrub it out of my head. Clearly I had problems.
Garrett turned to me. "Where do you want me to stick it first?"
20
Garrett
"Stick it?" Penny said.
"The dough?" I asked.
"Ahahaha!" Penny was slightly flushed.
"Isn’t that how you work the pasta machine?" I asked with a frown. "You have to put it through the part that rolls it flat, then you have to put it in the part that cuts it."
"Exactly!" Penny said. She sounded a little shrill. "Just have to make sure the dough isn’t too thick, or it might not fit."
Her eyes had a sort of glazed look. The last thing I needed was for her to faint in the kitchen. Our insurance premiums would rise. I grabbed Penny and guided her to a stool. "You look a little woozy."
"Yep, woozy."
I handed her a La Croix out of the fridge, and she sipped it while my little brothers ran the pasta dough through the machines. When the dough had all been sliced into long strands, Penny jumped up.
"You can just tell me what to do," I offered. "I think the kids are all pasta-ed out. Go set the table and I'll call you when it's ready," I told them. "I don't want anyone wearing costumes during dinner; you need to be dressed and washed." They scattered out of the kitchen carrying plates, cups, and utensils.
"I'll do it, I don’t want overcooked fish."
In several large pans, she made the sauce then poached the fish, shrimp, scallops, mussels, and lobster while the pasta boiled.
"Normally I would plate it," she said, staring at me while I hoisted the huge pots of boiling water and drained the pasta in the sink. "But I think we’ll just put the pasta in the pans. It will be easier."
I turned to look at her, and her words trailed off. Was that a little bit of drool coming out of the corner of her mouth?
"Sure is convenient to have a man around to lift heavy stuff," she said, clearing her throat.
"I’m sure you can manage on your own."
"But it’s so much better when someone else is there to give you a hand," she said.
I froze. Was she implying what I thought she was? Surely someone wouldn't use food innuendos for sex. As soon as I thought the wordsex, it was as if my brain had run into a brick wall. I picked up the colanders of pasta and moved to dump them into the large pans of steaming fish.
"You have to do it nicely," Penny said, grabbing my forearm. Her hands were soft and warm against my bare skin. Coming into contact with her was like being Tasered.
Using tongs, Penny carefully took out servings of noodles and swirled them in the sauce. The way she made those motions with her wrist was almost hypnotic.
Could be on your dick.
My brain was betraying me. Clearly I was losing my mind. Next thing I knew, I was going to be living out in the middle of nowhere in a trailer with no plumbing or electricity.
"Are you done?" I growled more harshly than I meant to.
Penny looked up at me, her green eyes glistening from the steam. Her mouth was slightly open. The only thing separating us was the pot of pasta.
"No. I have to make it look decent."
