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“Oh.” I try not to look as relieved as I feel. “She sounds nice.”
“She is. She and Bruce both. I’d be lost without them.”
I realize we’re both smiling at each other, and for the first time this weekend, the strain between us seems to have dissipated, at least for the moment.
“Have a seat.” He points to the breakfast bar. “Relax and watch.”
And that’s exactly what I do. I sit and watch. And impressed doesn’t even begin to cover it. He actually knows what he’s doing.
Who is this new Connor, and what have you done with the old one?
Chapter 13
Connor Murphy
I get busy prepping my workstation and trying to remember everything Sarah’s taught me. It’s not often that I get a chance to impress Ms. Takahashi.
After assembling my ingredients, I set a frying pan on the stove to heat. Then I fill a saucepan with water and set it on the stove to boil. As soon as the water’s bubbling, I drop in the potatoes. Then I go in search of the most essential item of all—a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. I drizzle a generous amount of oil onto the pan and turn up the heat. I wait for it to spit before adding the salmon fillets.
While the fish and the potatoes are cooking, I grab a lemon and a clove of garlic and start on a simple sauce.
While keeping one eye on the food, I observe Kennedy as she watches me. She looks impressed, but having her sitting on the barstool like a cardboard cut-out isn’t going to benefit either of us. It’s imperative that I get her involved. She and I used to prepare the most basic of meals together all the time—even if it was just heating up left-overs—so maybe doing it again might bring back some good memories. Besides, I don’t want the heat in the kitchen to come from the stove alone.
I turn my back to her and try to act nonchalant. “Rather than having you sit there and ogle me, how about you make yourself useful?”
Her scoff is cute as hell, and I turn just as Kennedy slides off the stool. She rolls her beautifully expressive eyes as she makes her way to my side and peers into the pan. “I’ve got to see this.”
“You wound me deeply, Ken,” I say, pressing my hand over my heart. “Have you no faith in me?” It’s then that I realize she no longer scolds me for calling herKen. That’s promising.
Laughing, she swats at my arm, while I take the spatula from the utensil holder and tip up the fillets to check their undersides.
I point to the fridge. “How about grabbing some butter for the sauce?”
While she does that, I squeeze the juice from half a lemon and crush some garlic cloves. Everything goes in a sauce pan, along with some butter, and within minutes we have a simple, yet fragrant sauce.
As I drizzle the lemon garlic sauce over the fish, the pan sizzles.
Kennedy inhales deeply and makes an appreciative sound. “That smells incredible.” She looks up at me. “All right, Gordon Ramsey. Is there anything I can help with?”
She looks so temptingly beautiful that I have to fight the urge to lean in and kiss her. But since I don’t want to ruin the moment and risk getting smacked, I refrain. “Why don’t you make the salad?”
“I can do that.” She opens the fridge and reaches in to grab a bag of prewashed and precut lettuce, a red bell pepper, and a tomato. “Is this all right?”
“What, no cucumber? We can’t have a salad without cucumber.” I leave my station to join her at the fridge, making a point of leaning into her, my arm brushing against hers as I pluck a cucumber from the middle shelf.
I don’t miss how her breath catches. But oddly enough, she doesn’t step away, even though our arms are touching.
I give the cucumber a bit of a squeeze. “Perfect,” I whisper. I don’t back off right away, and instead savor every second of closeness. I inhale deeply and take in the minty scent of her hair. I’m pleased to know she still favors peppermint shampoo.
I can’t recall how many times I lathered her hair with the stuff when we shared the shower. Of course, her hair was a bit shorter then, a bob cut just to her chin. It’s longer now, and I’d give anything to be able to run my fingers through those black strands. I’m sure they feel as silky as they look.
Kennedy finally steps away, breaking our contact. She plucks the cucumber from my fingers. “I think this will do.”
It takes all of my self-control not to pull her back. Instead, I nod. “Excellent. You’re in charge of the salad while I finish the rest of our meal.”
After I check on the baby potatoes, which are nearly cooked to perfection, I take a peek at the salmon. “Almost ready here.”
Kennedy washes her hands, then the veg, before she locates a cutting board and knife.
