AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I sat on one of the barstools to watch him cutting, but I felt weird about it, like I should be the one making dinner. “Can I help?”
“Nope,” he said, and that was it.Nope.
Then I realized why when he turned to the grill on the stove, which was great, by the way. A long grill in the middle of the four burners on an exceptionally wide stove. And it wasn’t twenty years old. That stove was new, and I knew that because I’d looked at them when Harvey was attempting to figure out if he wanted to redo our kitchen.Hiskitchen. It was never mine.
So, that told me that Noah liked to cook, and he was good at it, if the smells in the kitchen were any indication. Garlic, rosemary, olive oil… it was making me insane.
The steaks were slim NY strips, and mushrooms were sauteing in a cast iron on the burner next to them. “You like it bloody or well?”
“Somewhere in between,” I answered.
“Good enough,” he said, then took the steaks off the grill, setting them onto the cutting board after sliding the dull edge of the knife over it, putting the fresh vegetables into a big wooden bowl. Salad, mushrooms, and steaks…
I couldn’t take it much longer.
“You look like you’re gonna jump on this board and start licking it. Hungry?”
He said all this to me without looking up once. Again, like in the truck, he seemed to watch me without ever moving his eyes in my direction. It was creepy, but a little hot.
There I went again, horny, lonely, reading things that weren’t real. I was pitiful. “I’m hungry, yeah, but even if I wasn’t, that steak looks amazing. It all does.”
“I like to cook. I don’t really have anyone to cook for anymore, since my husband died a few years back,” he added like nothing, but his eyes moved then, glancing up to see my reaction.
It took a minute for me to digest that, but when I did, I wasn’t sure how to proceed. So, I did so cautiously, but honestly. “I’m sorry.”
“He was a good man most of the time.”
A cloud was in his eyes as he looked up at me and I wanted to say something more, but there wasn’t anything to say.
“Get the plates. They’re in that cabinet there,” he said, pointing the knife at the set of cupboards to the left of me. “We can eat in here.”
“Sure.”
I hopped off the stool and got into the cabinets, getting thick clay plates that were plain beige, and I took two of them, setting them on the counter.
After he let the meat rest, he sliced into mine and made perfect little strips, placing them on my plate and fanning them before adding mushrooms to one side.
I watched as he tossed the salad with a little vinegar and olive oil and served us two wooden bowls. When he joined me at the island, taking the stool next to mine, he huffed, “Forgot the utensils.”
“I’ll get them. What drawer?”
“Right next to the sink.”
I hurried over to the drawer, pulling it to find big, chunky handled eating utensils, solid oak handles with stainless steel metal. “I like these.”
I got us each a set and handed him his before getting back to my stool and plate.
I cut a piece of the meat and the knife was pointless, as it was so tender, it came apart like wet paper. I was right about the seasoning, the flavors bursting in my mouth, and I groaned aloud, unable to contain it.
He chuckled almost silently, and I didn’t care.Judge me, I thought, but that was the best steak of my life.
I will admit, I ate everything down to the bottom of the plate, then started on my salad, doing the same. He ate much more slowly, but not me. I was telling the truth. Hunger was one thing, but good food was something else.
“That was… incredible.”
“Glad you liked it,” he said before taking another bite of his steak. After he swallowed, he asked as casually as I was trying to be, “You got that gas from Pete’s station, a couple of towns over from where I found you.”
“Yeah! How’d you know?”
