“Not just any cheese balls, they’re the flaming fire ones. Those’ll burn your taste buds right off.”
She crumpled the bag and tossed it to the side, somewhat angrily. “Chocolate fudge? Teriyaki beef jerky?” Her voice became increasingly shrill with each word. “Powdered donuts and peanut butter? Are you kidding me?” By this time, she was laughing so hard her eyes watered, their rims filling and coating her dark lashes. She brought her hand up to press the tears back.
Maren’s hand dropped from her face and her gaze slammed into Grady’s for a fraction of a second. “If this really is all I have available, I need to get started right away.” Her hand reached over to the knob on the stove to flip the burner to ON. Grady covered it with his.
“This is a timed competition. Don’t you remember?” She looked up and withdrew her hand from the dial, slipping it out from under his palm. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and set the stopwatch to thirty minutes. Next, he propped it up on the backsplash so it was visible from a wide range. “On your mark, get set, go!”
Never before had he been so thankful for the small galley kitchen in his mother’s home. The amount of times he had bumped into Maren or brushed her arm when reaching for a utensil or plate was racking up and he loved each moment.
Grady completely ruined the quinoa. He was pretty sure it was supposed to be more of a rice dish than a soup, but he didn’t have the time to let it do whatever it needed to do in order for it to be edible. Each time he looked at the timer, another five minutes had passed. When only five remained, he decided soup was his only option. Rock hard potato cubes were tossed into the pot along with chopped up pieces of rhubarb, and sprigs of torn thyme were sprinkled over the top like a garnish. He didn’t like cauliflower, so he left that out altogether. He’d probably get docked for that.
When his phone buzzed at the time limit, Maren shot her hands into the air and backed away from her plate as though she was competing on a cable network cooking show. She paused, bringing her hands back down and wringing them in the blue flowered apron that had belonged to Grady’s mom. He couldn’t help but stare at her with affection when she surveyed her masterpiece. A coy grin formed on her lips. She seemed pretty pleased with her work.
“Grady Cutter,” she spoke, suddenly lifting the plate into her hands. She wiped at the rim with the apron. “Prepare to be completely wowed.”
“Already am.”
Maren looked at Grady with hesitation and then let go of his gaze. She shoved the platter into his chest. “Go ahead, dig in.” He took the fork from her hands.
In front of Grady was a white powdered donut hole, now glazed with a peanut buttery, hot fudge sauce that not only looked edible, but downright tasty. Bits of chocolate-drenched beef jerky were cut into symmetrical pieces and fanned out around the pastry like flower petals. On the outer edge of the platter was a bright orange dusting of grated cheese balls. Hand to heaven, it could’ve been served at the fanciest restaurant in San Francisco and patrons would’ve paid a hefty price to consume it. It looked that good in a trendy, eccentric sort of way.
“Wowed yet?” Her eyes were expectant, round like a child’s.
“Completely.” Grady placed the fork onto the counter and it clinked against the ceramic tile. Reaching down, he grabbed the donut between his thumb and finger, then swiped it along the cheese dust. He popped it into his mouth in one big bite. “But I do have to say, you have an unfair advantage here, working at an actual restaurant and all.”
Maren watched his mouth work as he chewed the food while she waited for the verdict. It was oddly sensual to see her staring at his lips like that. He knew the oven had been on, along with the stove, but sweat formed along his forehead and he didn’t figure it was from the temperature in the kitchen.
“So?”
“So, I think you need to take this down to Betty’s and see about getting it added to the menu.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said. “But I am surprised by how well it turned out. It’s really not all that bad, right?”
“Not bad at all,” he muttered around a mouthful of crumbs. “Not bad at all.”
“All right. My turn!” She dove around Grady, eager to grab the pot of ‘soup’ from the burner where he’d left it. He moved to block her. “Come on Grady, it’s my turn. How will we have a winner if no one taste-tests yours?”
“No need to even try it. No competition here.”
Her hands popped onto her hips. “Well, where’s the fun in that?”
“I promise you, it won’t be any fun about an hour from now when the contents in that pot are coming back up. I’m looking out for you here, Mare. Plus, I haven’t cleaned the bathroom in a while and it’s not even fit for getting sick in.”
“Then I’ll get sick in the sink.”
“Mare.”
She sidestepped and he matched her movements like a quick-footed linebacker. Right, left, right again. He thought he had her cornered when she dove at him, her reflexes catlike. But Grady was quicker. He lumbered forward and they collided. Her cheek slammed solidly against his chest and his only reaction was to grab onto her arms before she lost her footing and toppled over.
They ended up in an embrace and he wasn’t willing to let go.
She could’ve pulled away. The hesitant glances they’d exchanged earlier made him think that would’ve been her response had she allowed herself to consider how to react appropriately. But she didn’t pull away. Her body yielded and relaxed against his. Grady slid his hands from her arms and pressed them on her back to pull her deeper into his chest. Like she was taking his lead, her hands moved along his waist to wrap around him.
She closed her eyes. Grady sensed her softly sway back and forth. Skimming up her spine, his hand moved up to her neck and into her hair which felt so smooth between his fingers. All he had to do was angle her head with his hand and tilt it. She’d be looking up at him and he knew what would happen next. Deep down, they both knew.
“I want to kiss you more than anything right now,” he said on a breath before he could think not to.
“Then do it.”
Grady’s chest puffed up and deflated with a heavy sigh. “I can’t.”
“I know.” Her voice was timid and small and sounded a lot like someone giving up hope. It was the voice of heartbreak. “I’m about six years too late.”
Grady took the base of her head in his palm and pushed it up to have her look at him, but this time it wasn’t for a kiss. He needed her to see his face when he spoke. To see the hurt in his soul that revealed itself in his eyes when they met with hers. “That’s not why, Mare.”
They exchanged everything in their connected gaze: longing, desperation, need, and want. It was too much. Grady needed to push her away and shake it all out of his head. But his head didn’t need clearing. His heart did.
He was near saying to heck with it all and lowering his lips onto hers that all but begged him to do that very thing when his phone buzzed. It was still propped up against the backsplash from when they’d used the timer earlier, and when his eyes cut over at the sound, a name and face flashed across the screen: Kiley Swift.