“How far in the recipe are you?” he asked. He didn’t say anything about how it wouldn’t turn out the same or that I couldn’t do it or that he didn’t have time to walk me through how to finish.
I filled him in on what I’d done and where the recipe card left off.
“You’ll be done in no time,” he encouraged, and I let out a bleak laugh.
“It feels like I’ve been cookingforever. I hope it’ll be worth it.”
“It will be. It always is.”
I’d truly only been a few minutes away from finishing. With Leo’s help, I’d poured the vodka into the sauce, letting it simmer and scraping caramelized bits from the bottom of the pan. I stirred in the heavy cream, parmesan, and some water to ensure the sauce was smooth and creamy. A minute or so later, I tossed the gnocchi into the sauce.
“Hmm…tastes like something’s missing,” I said after trying a small spoonful of sauce. While I’d followed the instructions, that burst of flavor was missing.
“Try adding more salt.”
“But it doesn’t taste like it needs to be saltier,” I said while reaching for the shaker.
“That’s only a part of what salt does,” Leo explained. “Salt helps enhance the flavor, too. It makes food taste more like itself and brings out those flavors you’re looking for.”
Huh, I didn’t know that.
“Add some, stir, and see if you need more.”
I followed his instructions and grabbed another taste. “Oh my god,” I said as I pulled the spoon away from my lips. “That did it! It tastes amazing,” I said in awe, not quite able to believe that I’d made this. I’d spent most of college living off boxed macaroni and cheese, sandwiches, and frozen meals.
“Sometimes I know what I’m talking about. Rarely, but it happens.” I could hear the teasing in his tone.
I grinned. “Okay, so then, when I make my bowl, I’ll add the chopped basil and parmesan on top, and I’m done?”
“Yup and then you’re done.”
“Thanks so much for your help,” I said, a genuine smile on my face, even though he couldn’t see. I put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter, making my bowl while he stayed on the other line.
“Anytime, Eliza.”
“I’ve kept you long enough. I’ll let you go. Thanks again. Have a good rest of your night.”
“You, too. And send me a picture of your finished dish.”
“Are you sure? I might be giving you a run for your money.”
Leo’s deep chuckle filled the line. “I’m sure. Goodnight, Eliza.”
“Goodnight, Leo.”
I wasn’t sure what made me think of that memory today.
Maybe because it was another example of the contrast between Leo and Colin. Or because I hadn’t been able to shake my time with Leo on the rooftop a couple nights ago.
Or maybe because since I got into Lake Ridge today, I hadn’t been able to stop sneaking glances at Leo. I leaned forward on the bar top, watching as he carried in crates of produce. Thesleeves of his chef’s coat were rolled up to his elbows, and he made easy conversation with the farmer who’d stopped by to deliver the food.
I should’ve stopped staring the third time Leo walked past, but there was a lot Ishoulddo. Like ignore my ex’s brother all together. I needed to create some distance between us, something I’d been horrible at during the two weeks he’d been here.
“You’re drooling.” A voice sounded near me.
I reached up to touch the corner of my mouth, but it was dry. Thankfully. I turned around to face Wes. “No, I’m not!”
The asshole wasn’t even looking at me. Wes scribbled something on his clipboard, likely doing weekly inventory. His shoulders shook as he chuckled, clearly amused. “My mistake. I thought you were distracted, considering you’ve been wiping that same spot on the bar for the last ten minutes. Maybe I’m just seeing things.”
