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He studied her for a moment and then just gave a little shake of his head before he grabbed two sets of silverware and brought them back. He passed her one and said, “I hope this is better than Easy Mac.”
“I didn't even have to put it in the microwave. Even if it sucks, this is going to be awesome.”
His voice was dry when he said, “Just eat.”
She cut into one of the squares and then smeared it liberally in the cheese sauce. Stabbing at it with her fork, she took a bite and then moaned. She quickly chewed and said, “So good.”
“And it's not even neon yellow,” he added, smugly.
She rolled her eyes and continued to eat. He was right though. This was so much better than Easy Mac. The ravioli was stuffed with mushrooms and they were perfectly done. The cheese sauce was rich and smoky. They ate in silence for the most part until both of their plates were clean.
She set her plate aside from where it been balanced on her lap and said, “You know what would have improved that?”
“What,” he asked cautiously.
“If I had been eating this in my bathrobe. Or, oh! Better yet, in a bubble bath,” she answered as she slid off the counter.
“That could absolutely be arranged,” he informed her with a wolfish grin.
Uncertain how to response, Caroline laughed and said, “But seriously. How many times a week do you think I could cry Easy Mac and get dinner out of you? That was one of the best meals I've ever had. Thank you.”
The grin on his face softened and he said, “As often as you'd like.”
“Are you really ready to make that kind of commitment, here, Magnus? We're talking three or four nights a week.”
“I'd be willing to suffer through that,” he admitted. A smirk played on his lips when he added, “I'm committed to your nutritional health, love.”
“Your sense of duty is admirable.”
“Thank you for recognizing that. Next time we'll shoot for something with actual vegetables in it,” Magnus teased.
She waved him off and said, “I'll just have some canned whatever when I get home.”
He gaped at her and said, “Ca
roline, this is much more serious than I thought.”
She giggled and then explained, “Kidding! Kidding! I don't even think I have any canned vegetables. I really do cook for myself. Real food. Just not after a twelve hour shift.”
“Not my favorite time to do it either,” he conceded. “Still. Don't toy with a man like that. I had these mental images of you eating creamed corn with a spoon right out of the can, Caroline.”
“Eww. Creamed corn is kind of gross. And for the record I was actually kidding about the canned vegetables. I don't think I've had them since I was a teenager. When I moved out, I realized that green beans were actually green. It was an exciting time in my life.”
Chuckling, he said, “I can relate. I grew up in the late 40's and 50's in the UK. I don't think I tasted anything with actual seasoning until I started at Le Cordon Bleu.”
She studied him for a moment, then asked, “Are you always going to do this, do you think? You have infinite time to reinvent yourself and try new things. Will it always be food?”
“Wow. Good question,” he responded. “No one's ever asked me that before. Forever is a really long time so I can't say for certain, but think so. There are new techniques and dishes being created every day. Culture is evolving and so everything has managed to stay really fresh for me. I feel like I could do this for several lifetimes and never really master it.”
“You're not what I expected,” she admitted as she snagged the plates and walked toward the large sink.
He snatched the plates from her and loaded them into the industrial dishwasher. “What did you expect, or dare I ask?”
“Based this morning's introduction? You really want to know?” she asked, laughing.
“Ouch.” Magnus had the good grace to look a little embarrassed when he asked her, “Could we start over, then?”
She stuck her hand out in response. “Caroline Lundquist. Bar Manager.”
