Page 38 of Abdominal Snowman

Truth or Dare

The storm continued to rage throughout the day, and Sage was bored. Soren had finished his chores and shut himself in the garage for the rest of the daylight. Which meant, sadly, she hadn’t caught any more glimpses of him shirtless.

Left to her own devices, Sage lay on the couch scrolling through social media, but even that wasn’t holding her attention. Blowing out a huff of air, Sage sat up, eyeing the back door to the garage and the small window beside it. It was starting to get dark out, and Soren hadn’t said anything about making dinner. And still the garage remained silent.

The curiosity was killing her. What did he do in there all day?

The pristine kitchen awaited her, but as she stood in the middle of the floor, she didn’t know where to start. It wasn’t like the kitchen was her forte in the first place. She could make a bowl of cereal, and that was the extent of her cooking abilities.

But Soren had been so hospitable so far, making all their meals like a good host. It was the least she could do.

As she opened the fridge, Sage learned something new about Soren. The man was a neat freak. Every item of food had a place, and his fridge was organized like one of those Pinterest pictures Gabi sent her all the time. Clear acrylic housed all sorts of meticulously chopped fruits and vegetables, while his dressings were in a spinning lazy Susan. For goodness’ sake, the eggs even had their own clear tray. Obsessive bastard.

But she couldn’t say it didn’t come in handy.

In the meat drawer, Sage found a perfectly marinated pork loin and, heavens above, there was even a cook temp and time written on the Ziplock bag. She preheated the oven to the scribbled number, probably alerting Soren to her antics as it beeped.

In record time, she washed and chopped the small red potatoes for the side she’d found neatly stacked in his also pristine and perfectly organized pantry. Salt, pepper, and a little garlic powder went over top of the potatoes as she spread them across the pan and doused in olive oil. Everything was in the oven in record time, and Sage stood in the kitchen with her hands on her hips, immensely proud of herself.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” she whispered to the empty space.

“What wasn’t so hard?” Soren’s rumbly voice came from behind her, shocking her out of her thoughts. She spun on him with a gasp.

He was leaning against the fireplace, the creep, and she’d been so absorbed in her task she hadn’t heard his approach. “Jesus, Snowflake, warn a girl next time.”

Lifting his arms innocently, he teased, “Listen, listen, all I heard was a beautiful woman in my kitchen talking about hard things. I couldn’t help but be intrigued.” His soft, rumbly chuckle would be the death of her.

What a dork.

Before she embarrassed herself, she waved her hand proudly at the oven. “I made us dinner!” The timer was counting down until her masterpiece was complete.

She watched smugly as Soren stepped around her and pulled the door out, releasing a cloud of steam, and breathed in. He didn’t seem disappointed, so that was a good sign, yeah?

Though she couldn’t attribute this successful dinner just to her kitchen prowess. “You know, when you have everything labeled like a maniac, it makes it pretty easy to whip up dinner.”

He glanced at Sage from the corner of his eye as he shut the oven door, turning to face her. “It actually helps to cut on food waste, Sage. I bet your fridge looks like Costco threw up.”

Smug little shit.

“Well, I’ll have you know I exclusively eat takeout, so my fridge is empty.” Sage crossed her arms.

The look on Soren’s face was comical, and Sage’s façade shattered with a laugh until the oven dinged.

“I’ll get the food, you get the plates,” Sage instructed.

Soren shook his head, grabbing his pristine white settings and laying them out on the island.

Sage pulled out the heavenly smelling food, warm steam caressing her face, and began cutting the loin into serving sizes. She turned, sheet in hand, and scooped a generous portion of roasted potatoes onto each of their plates.

As they sat down, Sage eyed Soren. He wasn’t covered in motor oil, and his clothes were clean, so she guessed he wasn’t out there working on cars.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His lips twitched as he lifted his gaze from the plate. “Your favorite thing. Of course.”

“What do you do in the garage all day?”

“Ah. Yeah. I guess I do spend a lot of time in there, huh? I’ve never realized,” he said.