Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80986 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“What’s that?” Bennett said, staring at the covered dish as if she’d just placed a python on the table.
“It’s potatoes.” She sounded flustered. Figuring she could use a friendly smile, I aimed one her way, but she wasn’t looking at me. Her face was a little flushed and there was a smudge of something on her cheek. Was she uncomfortable with cooking in general or cooking for us specifically?
“I’ll get the rest of the food.”
“Potatoes,” Bennett repeated, as if she’d said she was serving us slugs. The judgment in his voice didn’t stop him from watching her ass as she hurried off. But poor Hailey had unknowingly pissed him off by bringing out the main dishes family style.
During the past school year, the cook had plated our food in the kitchen and then served it to us like a restaurant would. But that had been a professional chef with assistants. This was just a young, overworked girl.
Hailey returned. “Here’s the salad. I probably should have brought that first.” She placed a huge bowl on the table in front of me. “I already added the dressing. I hope that’s all right.” She set six bowls down on the table and headed back to the kitchen.
Bennett’s disdain was clear on his face.
“Why don’t I get this for us.” I reached for the wooden salad tongs, tossing the spring mix and chopped veggies before scooping it into a bowl. Then I handed the first bowl to Ian, who passed it to Bennett. He caught my eye as I filled the next one. He knew as well as I did that Bennett was fuming at what he would likely consider self-service. As if Hailey hadn’t spent hours preparing the meal. And shopping for it before that.
But entitlement was Bennett’s middle name.
Hailey returned as I was dishing out the last bowl of salad. “And here’s the fish.” Using both hands, she carefully placed a glass casserole dish in the middle of the table. Steam rose from the edges of the aluminum foil that covered it.
“Fish?” Bennett echoed, as if he’d never heard of the creature. Grant looked part amused, part appalled. Sometimes he could be almost as much of a snob as Bennett. They were family, after all, and Grant’s family played an all too important role in his life. But I knew my friend, and his opinion of Hailey probably had nothing to do with her cooking and everything to do with how she looked in that tight skirt and scoop-neck blouse.
“Yes.” Hailey stood her ground, but her voice faltered. “I thought—”
“Where’s the wine?”
“Wine?” Hailey echoed, her face falling. “I didn’t think about that.”
“Obviously.” God, Bennett could be a stuck up prick sometimes. “There’s a wine cabinet in the basement. I assumed you saw it when you got the beer yesterday.”
“Yes, but I didn’t know—”
Bennett spoke over her. “It’s in the basement.”
“All right.” She gripped the hem of her shirt nervously, practically wringing her hands as she stretched the fabric. I could practically hear the turmoil in her brain. She was a small-town girl who likely didn’t have much experience with wine. Hell, she probably wasn’t even old enough to drink.
I pushed back my chair. “I’ll help you pick it out.”
She gave me a grateful look that made me feel like shit. I wasn’t responsible for Bennett being such a pompous prick, but I felt guilt by association. It was obvious Hailey needed this job. And that meant that she would likely jump through any hoop Bennett held up.
So I’d do what I could to knock some of those hoops out of the way.
I caught up to her in the kitchen. Some of the tension had drained from her face, whether it was from my offer of help or just because she was no longer in the room with the others.
“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know much about wine.”
That was pretty obvious. “Are you twenty-one?”
“Twenty,” she admitted.
“Then you have an excuse.” She tentatively returned the smile I gave her.
I flipped on the light in the storeroom.
Hailey went straight to the wine cabinet. “I don’t know which foods go with white, and which ones with red. And then I panicked—what if I accidentally picked an expensive one that costs a hundred bucks or something?”
I wondered what she’d say if she knew that most of the guys here would consider that the bare minimum for a bottle of wine. I knelt down and scanned the selection. “Chardonnay goes well with salmon.”
“It’s not salmon, though.”
I twisted my head to look up at her. “It’s not?”
“No, it’s trout. Bennett sent me to that fancy grocery store, the one on East Street, and everything was so expensive.”
“He made you pay for it?” I asked sharply.
“No, he gave me money, but I didn’t want to waste it. And there were so many kinds of fish I’d never even heard of, but then I saw the trout. It was local, and you know how hard it is to get fresh fish in northern Georgia. And it’s something I actually know how to cook.” Her eyes grew distant with memory.