Page 22 of Beastly Mountain Man

“I need to establish expectations before we begin.”

“If you tell me to add something ‘until it looks right’ without first explaining what right looks like, I reserve the right to become difficult.”

Lucky considered that with suspicious seriousness. “I can give you measurements and explain what I’m looking for. But dough changes depending on the flour, eggs, and room, so at some point I’m going to tell you to feel it.”

“That sounds subjective, and I dislike it already.”

“You haven’t touched anything yet.”

“I’m preparing.”

He laughed and measured flour onto the wide wooden board.

Lucky showed me how to form the well for the eggs, then stepped aside instead of taking over.

“You can crack them.”

“I am fully qualified for eggs.”

“I believed that until you made the announcement.”

The first egg went perfectly.

The second shattered badly enough to drop a piece of shell into the flour.

I looked at him.

He looked at the shell.

I picked it out.

“Handled.”

“You recovered beautifully.”

“Do not patronize me during pasta.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Three minutes later, egg had escaped one side of the flour well and was making a determined journey toward the edge of the board.

Lucky intercepted it with a flat metal scraper.

I pointed at the utensil. “What is that?”

“Bench scraper.”

“I was going to call it a square spatula.”

“I would have known what you meant.”

“That may be why I like you.”

The words slipped out naturally.

Lucky’s gaze lifted.

I felt the small change in the air and refused to take the sentence back.