“What if I’m super careful?”
She wagged a finger in my direction. “You’re still not allowed.”
Grumbling, I closed the lid.
Winnie smiled without looking up from her herbs. “How’s your head?”
“Better.” I paused. “Still vaguely painful, but it’s more of a dull ache instead of stabbing pain.”
“Good. I think you’re going to survive.”
“I appreciate your faith in me.”
A quick, amused grin tugged at her lips. “I’ve seen you survive Billie with glitter glue.”
“Yeah, nothing compares to that.”
The silence that settled afterward felt easy. Comfortable. I couldn’t remember the last time being alone with another adult had been comfortable instead of effortful. After Jade died, most conversations had turned careful around me. People either treated me too delicately or overcompensated by pretending grief wasn’t a thing at all.
Winnie never did either. She just… stayed normal. Even when things weren’t.
I watched her stir something in the pan.
“You know,” I said slowly, “I’ve decided I want to learn how to cook.”
She turned toward me fully this time, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Now?”
“Why not?”
She stared at me for a moment. “Well, no offense, but you look like you’re a few minutes away from collapsing on a fainting couch.”
“Harsh.” I crossed my arms. “I’m serious, though. About the cooking.”
That softened her expression immediately. “You really want to learn?”
“Absolutely. I know how to survive with the kids, but I want to know how to actually cook.”
Her smile started slowly then spread wider. God help me. That smile could probably destabilize governments.
“All right,” she said. “Wash your hands.”
“Yes, chef.”
Twenty minutes later, I’d discovered three important things. First, Winnie was an incredible teacher. Second, she became quite bossy in the kitchen. And third, watching her cook at close range was deeply distracting.
“Your knife grip is wrong,” she informed me while stepping beside me at the cutting board.
Before I could respond, she moved behind me and reached around to adjust my hand placement. My entire nervous system forgot how to function. I lost all track of Winnie’s instructions. Hell, I even lost my grip on the knife.
Her fingers wrapped lightly around mine. Cool skin. Soft touch. The faint scent of rosemary and citrus wafted from her.
“See,” she said. “All you need is more control.”
I swallowed hard. “Right.”
She stepped back. I missed the proximity of her body instantly.
This was becoming a problem.
