After lunch, she and Patrick looked online for dog treat ideas. Emily came across simple homemade peanut butter treats and decided it would be the perfect recipe.
“I’ve got all those ingredients: whole wheat flour, oats, peanut butter, eggs, and water.” He went over to his pantry and pulled everything out, setting it on the counter. With a click of a few buttons, he preheated the oven and then eyed the screen of his laptop.
“I think we should add a banana and pumpkin puree.”
“You’re the boss,” she said. She grabbed the bowl he’d set out and read the directions on the screen. “In a large bowl, combine peanut butter, flour, oats, and egg. Stir to combine.”
While he cracked the egg on the side of the dish, she measured the other ingredients.
“You should always crack your eggs first, so if there’s anything wrong with them, you don’t ruin your flour,” he said.
She squinted at him. “Are you…chatting?” she teased.
The corners of his mouth twitched. He offered her a large spoon.
“I like it when you make conversation,” she said.
“I could guess you’d like chatter.”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously.
“Because you always want to talk when I’m cooking.”
“And look at where it got me—in your kitchen, making dog treats. I’ll bet you didn’t see that coming when we met.”
A grin emerged. “Is that what you were trying to do that day—get into my kitchen?”
Heat rushed over her cheeks. “No. I was just being friendly. What I meant was that if you actually talk to more people, you might find that they’re enjoyable and your life might look different.”
“It definitely does look different,” he said, his voice slow and soft.
She liked his attention. Even when they were dating, Will didn’t flirt with her like this. There was something both youthful and yet very adult about the look in Patrick’s eyes.
“Good,” she finally said, her heart pattering.
With a soft chuckle, Patrick rooted around in a drawer and took out a circular cookie cutter and a wooden rolling pin. “This is all I’ve got. I’m not a baker.” He handed her the cookie cutter.
“That’ll do,” she said.
Mixing the dough turned out to be easier than she’d expected. And the peanut butter gave off a warm, nutty aroma, which made her want to nibble it from the wooden spoon. She went over to the laptop. “Slowly add water, a tablespoon at a time, until the dough holds together but isn’t sticky,” she read.
Patrick chuckled as he filled a measuring cup with water and handed it to her. While she added it in, he floured the counter.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, his slight smirk making her stomach do a little flip.
“You follow the recipe to the letter.”
“And? Why wouldn’t I? You’re the chef, not me.” Emily rolled the dough onto the dusted surface and used the cookie cutter to press out each treat.
Patrick lined them neatly on a baking sheet. “Cooking isn’t about getting perfect amounts. You can improvise for taste. The unexpected brings more flavor most of the time.”
“Yeah, but I might get it wrong and ruin it.”
“I don’t think you could ruin it.”
What happened with Will and the way she’d happily planned her life, missing all the signs flashed through her mind. “You’d be surprised.”
His head tilted slightly. “Are we still talking about cooking?”
