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“Extenuating circumstances, pal.”
“And then, for a while, I thought Honor and Tom weren’t going to make it, and look at them. Hey, are you bringing Lucas to the wedding next weekend?”
“I don’t know. Should I?”
“Yes! So romantic! Levi, don’t you think Colleen should bring Lucas to Honor’s wedding? He does.”
There was a funny smell out here...someone was burning leaves or trash. “I should probably go,” Colleen said. “I have to do stuff. Food stuff. I also have to change into slutty underwear.”
“Have fun,” Faith said. “You’re not stupid.”
Colleen smiled. “Thanks, hon. Talk to you tomorrow.”
She turned, froze, then bolted.
It wasn’t leaves that were burning. It was scallops.
She yanked the frying pan off the burner. The smell was thick, but not quite acrid. More of a tarry, oily smell. “Sphincter,” she muttered.
Well, great chefs were innovators, right? She dumped the scallops onto a paper towel, let them cool a bit...crap, the carrots and parsnips needed to get cooking, didn’t they? She grabbed another pot, filled it with water, figuring she’d boil them a bit to soften, then roast them. Not to mention the stupid puree. Whose idea was this whole thing? Would it have been so hard to go to a restaurant?
She chopped the carrots and parsnips, figuring they’d cook faster that way, and threw them into the pot. Turned back to the scallops. She’d just trim off the burnt bottom edges. But wait, weren’t blackened scallops kind of good?
Time to call for backup. “Hey, Con,” she said.
“We’re slammed. What’s up?”
“Blackened scallops—delicious?”
“They’re great. Bye.”
Perfect! Necessity, the mother of invention.
Who said cooking was hard?
* * *
ANHOURLATER, right on time, a knock came at the door.
Shit. “Don’t come in!” she yelled. “Not yet, don’t come in! And don’t look through the window, either! I will gouge your eyes out if you do. Sorry! That sounded mean. I didn’t intend it that way.”
“Is there a nice way to say ‘gouge your eyes out’?” Lucas asked, his voice full of laughter.
That voice was foreplay incarnate. She damn well better have the same effect on him, or life was just not fair.
But first, she had to feed the man. She wasn’t ready to fall into bed (give her an hour). And before they could eat, she had to get rid of the, er, evidence. She resumed flapping the dish towel at the window, trying to dispel the thin veil of smoke layering the kitchen. Who knew roasting beets was so hard? How dare they be hard? It wasn’t like they were the world’s most popular vegetable.
Rufus wandered into the kitchen, started to snuff at the scallops, then hung his head and slunk away. Perhaps not a good sign.
It didn’t smell so good in there. She dashed around, grabbing scented candles from various and sundry surfaces throughout the apartment.
Lucas knocked again. “Colleen? Everything all right?”
“Stop bugging me! I know you’re here! Just...give me a sec.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“Yes! Why would you even ask that? It’s fine. Just...I’m changing, that’s all.” And yes, she had to change because at the moment, she was wearing a now-filthy, beet-stained, scallop-stained, everything-stained O’Rourke’s T-shirt with the sweatpants she’d stolen from Connor last month and hemmed by hacking off four inches at the bottom, and it wasn’t as sexy as it sounded.
