“Hold that thought,” I say, stealing one last peck before releasing her. “Put this on.”
She seems confused when I grab a pink apron off the hook beside the door for her and a black one for me. Surprisingly, she doesn’t ask questions as she slips it over her head, but she does quirk a brow when I grab a bin from the fridge, prepped especially for us by the bakery owner, Allison.
“We’re baking?” she asks.
Smiling, I set the bin on the counter. “Of course, we are.”
She’s quiet now, watching as I lay out the ingredients, but it’s like I canfeelher thoughts long before she actually voices them.
“I once saw you burn a pot while boiling water, West.”
“That’s because I was multitasking.”
She laughs at the excuse. “Playing a game on your phone doesn’t count as multitasking. You’re gifted inmanyways, husband, but… cooking isn’t one of them.”
“Then, maybe you should quit insulting me and help.”
One corner of her mouth curves into a smile, and she accepts her copy of the laminated recipe Allison printed.
“Apple pie. Shouldn’t we start you off with something easy? Like… toast?”
She looks like a deer caught in headlights when I glare at her. “Real fucking cute.”
She yelps out a laugh when I push my fingers into her sides, only showing mercy when she begs me to stop, tears streaming down her cheeks. I stop with the torment, but don’t let her go.
“You done with the shit-talking?”
She holds out for a few seconds but breaks when I lift my hand to tickle her again.
“Okay, fine! I won’t talk shit,” she shouts.
And no sooner than I release her, she glares at me, mumbling something under her breath.
“What was that?”
She smirks, but she’s laughing again when I reach for her, and she holds up a rolling pin like it’s a weapon.
“Fine! Okay! I’m done.”
I can’t even pretend to be stern with her. This fucking girl has me grinning from ear to ear, damn-near forgetting all the bad shit that’s happened lately.
Almost.
We settle down to read the recipe more seriously this time, lightly elbowing one another like children trying to get the last hit as we scan the ingredients list. One by one, we pull out what’s on the instructions, and I’m man enough to say Blue does most of the work. I act as more of an assistant, slicing apples while she makes the dough from scratch. We add spices and assemble it together, then she sets the timer before we clean up our mess.
A mess that would’ve beenmuchworse if I’d been left to my own devices.
We rest against the counter, staring at the oven. “We just killed that shit.”
She laughs, and I bring her to my side, hugging her as her arms slip around my waist. “We did. Now, I’m going to stand here and salivate until it’s done, because I’m starving.”
Those words leave her mouth just as a notification chimes on my phone. I smile at her. “Take your apron off.”
I feel her watching as I remove mine, too, then exit the kitchen to accept our dinner delivery. Blue looks just as curious when I return with a paper bag in hand, staring as I set it down on the linen-clad table Allison brought into the kitchen per my request.
“What’d you get?” Blue clasps her hands behind her back after asking, playing innocent as she tries to peek inside.
“Boat noodle soup.”
