Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26739 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26739 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
When he pulled back I wasn’t sure how long we had stood here and I didn’t care. Going by the playful look on Adam’s face, he didn’t either. Clearing my throat to remove the sudden lump, I managed to say, “I was thinking about making some kind of soup. How does that sound to you?”
His beaming grin was more than answer enough as I moved out of his arms to start the preparation. A flash of loss made me almost turn back around for another hug, before I shook it off. My reactions to him were shockingly needy, but I wouldn’t focus on that now. I had lunch to prepare.
I scurried around, chopping vegetables and simmering a savory chicken broth on the stove.
Suddenly, Adam pressed a kiss to my cheek, bringing my attention to him before gesturing to the cupboard above my head.
“That one has bags of pasta inside. Sorry for how high it is but I didn’t design this kitchen for someone shorter than me. I always assumed any woman I met would want me to cook, given my background.”
I flushed and quickly waved off his apology.
“It’s your kitchen so it makes sense. But could you help me grab them? I need the bowties for this recipe.”
He nodded, but instead of reaching up to grab the necessary box, he wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up so I could reach what I needed. The squeak I let out made me sound like a mouse.
“Was that not what you meant for me to do?” he teased. “You don’t like being lifted, my lady?”
I giggled a bit, enjoying the strong feel of his arms around my waist. Not to mention, my breasts were almost grazing his head, and I could tell how distracted he was.
“No, this works,” I said, reaching for the packages of dried pasta. With the noodles in hand, Adam put me back down on the floor. I could still feel his hands on my sides as I moved around and got everything ready. The tingling his touch left on my skin was new and exciting. I could definitely get used to it.
Grabbing a knife, I forced myself to focus. The last thing I wanted to do was injure myself because my head wasn’t with it while cutting the vegetables. As I began to dice celery, Adam spoke up from his position leaning against the counter near me.
“I have a food processer for that.”
I had noticed the appliance but, while I preferred to do things like this by hand. I shot him a shy smile.
“I know, but I enjoy cooking things. Sometimes I’ll use gadgets but usually I prefer to just do everything by hand.”
I half expected him to scoff. After all, Adam is the proprietor of a restaurant chain, and probably preferred functionality over sentimentality. But instead he looked at me with admiration.
“You have more patience than I do. I prefer to get the prep work done so I can enjoy the rest of the cooking, but I won’t stop you from having your fun.”
Smiling.
“It’s a labor of love,” I explained. “I feel that my food turns out differently if I put hard work into it.”
He looked over my form with what can only be described as ravenous hunger.
“That’s true,” were his low words. “A labor of love. I like that.”
Blushing, I turned back to the veggies quickly to hide my reaction to his words. I began chopping only to stop a minute later when Adam cleared his throat behind me. Lifting a curious brow at him, I waited for what he had to say.
“Are you sure you should be doing that so fast? What if you catch your hand?” Usually it irritated me to have someone questioning my abilities in the kitchen, but the genuine worry on his face soothed me. He wasn’t trying to be patronizing; he was just trying to watch out for me.
I smiled even as I shook my head.
“It’s fine. I’ve been doing this for years now and I rarely to cut myself. I’m sure you’ve gotten lots of practice with your knife skills too.”
I expected him to nod, but instead he looked dubious.
“Actually, all of the restaurants I’ve worked in have had food processers and the like, so I rarely have to manually prep anything.”
He could have told me he had never touched a television and I would have been equally shocked. How could someone succeed without knowing the basics of food preparation?
“I can show you if you want?”
The offer was out of my mouth before I could think it over. It was rude to immediately assume he would want to be taught my way of doing things, given that his way had obviously worked fine for him so far.
But instead of getting mad, he perked up in a way that reminded me of a puppy.