“Ashlyn?” a voice calls out.
I glance up and freeze.
It’s Ben Murphy. My boss. And the man I’ve had a hopeless crush on since he took on the role of principal at Hope Creek Elementary a few months ago. Not that he knows, of course. Why would he? It’s not like I’d ever actually tell him.
“Ben, hi,” I say, quickly shifting my focus to the apron straps as I fumble to tie them around my waist.
“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he says, glancing around the room. “Are you on your own?”
I nod. “My friend was supposed to come, but she got stuck at work.” I hesitate, then ask. “What about you?” I hope he’s not here on a date.
He shakes his head. “Just me. Want to share a station?”
I glance toward the empty station. I should say no in case Ivy shows up. The idea of spending the class next to him when we’ve only ever spent time together at faculty meetings and coffee breaks in the teachers' lounge is too tempting to pass up.
“Sure,” I say with a small smile. “But just a heads-up... I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”
He chuckles, and the sound sends a flutter straight to my stomach.
“You mean like when you nearly burned down the teachers’ lounge with a microwave burrito?” he says, grinning. “Yeah, I kinda guessed.”
My cheeks flush with heat, and I quickly glance away. “Okay, in my defense, those smoke alarms are way too sensitive.”
“Oh, totally,” he says, amusement clear in his voice. “Could have happened to anyone.” He pauses, then adds with a wink, “Doesn’t mean ithas, though.”
I groan and drop my head into my hands for a second before looking up. Ben just smirks, and hell if it doesn’t look good on him.
I let out a quiet laugh, brushing it off like it’s nothing, even as my face burns hotter than the burrito I nearly set on fire. “I can’t believe you’re dragging up the burrito incident. I was pretty sure we had a silent pact to never speak of that again.”
He raises an eyebrow, a hint of mischief gleaming in his eyes. “Did we?”
I look away, partly because of the heat creeping up my neck, and partly because it’s impossible to hold that gaze for long without melting. “I mean... Ithoughtwe did. Clearly, I was wrong.”
He chuckles and lifts both hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Truce. I promise to never mention it again.”
“Good,” I say, tossing him the spare apron. “Put this on.”
I watch as he slips it over his head and ties it around his waist, then steps in beside me at the station. He stands close, and a hint of his woodsy cologne drifts over to me. He smells incredible.
“I’m assuming your kitchen skills aren’t exactly fireproof either, considering you signed up for a beginners’ class,” I tease, giving him a playful side glance.
He pauses. “That’s fair. But at least I can handle a microwave.”
A slow, smug smile tugs at his lips, and I cross my arms, giving him a mock glare. “Youjustsaid you weren’t going to bring that up again.”
He bumps my shoulder gently with his. “Relax, Ash,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I’m just teasing you.”
His breath grazes the spot just beneath my ear, and it’s completely overwhelming.
A shiver ripples down my spine before I can stop it.
And now I’m struggling to remember how to breathe.
An hour later,nothing has caught fire. It’s a miracle, really. I concentrate on moving the vegetables around the pan, noticing that they’re golden and crisp; just how the instructor said they should be. I think I might actually be doing this right.
“You do know you’re cooking vegetables and not defusing a bomb?” Ben says from the side of me, amusement in his voice as he looks into the pan.
“What? I ask, turning to look at him, not realizing he was standing so close. The move leaves us millimeters apart, and my heart races at the closeness.
