Page 75 of Songs for Libby

“No argument here. You want to get started now?”

“In a minute.” I closed my eyes again, determined to revel in the relaxation for a little bit longer.

He chuckled and kept rubbing. “I hope whatever meal I’ll be slaving over doesn’t take too much time,” he hinted broadly after a couple minutes.

I gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine.” I pulled my feet from his lap and pushed off the couch. “Come, my apprentice.”

He followed me toward the kitchen. “I never realized waddling could be adorable,” he snickered.

“Shut it,” I threw over my shoulder before settling myself on a barstool.

He went to the sink to wash his hands, giving me the side-eye. “Are you going to direct me from there?”

“Yes,” I said with my sweetest smile.

It was just a simple one-pot pasta dish, but it did require that he cut onions and sauté chicken. I figured it would be easy enough, but also make him practice some skills.

“How long is it going to take for this chicken to cook?”

“About seven minutes on each side.”

He glanced over this shoulder, his face half unhappy, half confused. “Can’t I just turn up the heat so it will be faster?”

I gave an over-exaggerated sigh. “So impatient.”

“Well, can I?”

“Nope. That would burn the outside and not cook the inside enough.”

“Oh.” He turned back to the stove.

When the chicken was cooked, I had him take it out and then add chicken stock to the pan before cutting up the chicken.

While he struggled a bit with that, I got off my barstool throne and went to stir the contents of the huge skillet.

“Hey now,” Sean objected, putting his knife down. “I’m supposed to be doing this.”

“I don’t think it will impede your education if I stir.”

He put his hand out, palm up, and wiggled his fingers. “Hand over the spoon, Mrs. Caster.”

I turned to face him with one hand on my hip and the other holding the spoon up and behind me, out of his reach. “You do realize this is my kitchen, right?”

“Yeeeees,” he said as he eased a step closer, slowly reaching up to take the spoon from me, which, as it happened, wasn’t out of his reach at all because he was way taller than me. Curse his long reach.

I stubbornly held on to it and so did he as he stared at me, his face determined.

Our face-off ended when I realized how close we were and how warm his body heat made me feel. I was suddenly strangely aware of him and his pretty eyes.

I let go and turned away the moment I felt my face start to heat. “Fine,” I threw at him, reaching for my casual demeanor. “If you’re too prideful to accept help, then I won’t offer.” I sat myself back down on my stool and tried to look like I’d won the argument even though I obviously hadn’t.

“Thank you,” he said with a little bow, then went back to the cutting board.

It turned out he really didn’t need my help. He did just fine with me calling out instructions to him, and I loved seeing the grin on his face when he presented my plate to me.

“Mmm,” I said as I took my first bite. “Well done, my friend.” I tapped my fork and knife together in applause.

“Thanks for taking the time to show me how it’s done,” he said as he dug into his own food.

“So, what do you suppose people would say if they knew I had domesticated Sean Amity?”

He just grinned at my quip and took another bite.