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“Well, it’s your kitchen now,” I said, “and I’d prefer you didn’t chop off any fingers.”
“You and me both,” he admitted. “What am I doing wrong?”
I took the knife from him and demonstrated how he should hold it, and how he should fold the fingers of his other hand under to avoid slicing a fingertip. I sliced a few strips of raw chicken to demonstrate. “See? Now, you try.”
Hunter took the knife, and I had to give him credit, he positioned his hands exactly right. But as he began to slice, he lost concentration and unfolded his fingers perilously close to the edge of the blade. I grasped his hand, folding his fingers back in. “There you go,” I murmured, watching as he continued. “You’ve got it now.”
Hunter tossed me a grin, voice low and warm as he said, “Thanks for the tips, Teach.”
It was only then that I realized how I’d pressed up against his side, my hips flush to the back of his thigh. I stepped back hurriedly, casting a look Toby’s way. He’d filled the sink with carrot peelings.
“This takes forever,” he complained.
“Welcome to cooking for yourself,” Hunter said.
I helped Toby finish the peeling and sent him on his way, and Hunter and I worked to finish the prep and get everything in the oven.
Hunter grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge and handed me one. “Thanks for this.”
“There are easier casseroles to make,” I admitted. “With less prep. Stuff you can just toss in the oven.”
Hunter tilted his beer back, taking a long swallow that made his throat bob and drawing my gaze to the dark stubble on his skin. I wanted to feel it scraping over my skin so badly that goosebumps erupted, my body reacting to the mere idea of Hunter being that close. I shifted restlessly, taking a quick gulp of beer to hide my reaction.
“If I’m going to give Toby the best, then the easy way isn’t always the right way,” Hunter said. “I know he loves these casseroles, and that some are a matter of soup, stuffing mix, and meat, but he needs fresh ingredients too, so I’m glad you chose this one.”
I smiled tentatively. “Okay, good.”
“I should have done this sooner,” Hunter admitted. “I got used to leftovers from my mother, takeout, and frozen meals. And…if I’m being honest, I was reluctant to step into this role. Toby’s mother loved preparing meals.”
“A tough act to follow,” I said, turning to lean back against the cabinets now that the food was in the oven and we were just waiting while it cooked.
“Not just that.” Hunter rolled his shoulders, as if he were getting ready for a sporting event rather than a quiet confession in his kitchen. “I wasn’t ready to acknowledge that part of my life was over.”
“You mean…” I glanced toward the kitchen doorway to be sure Toby wasn’t listening. “Your marriage?”
“Sort of?” He shook his head, giving a derisive chuckle. “I don’t know. It’s silly. I’ve known it was over for a long time.”
“Knowing and moving on are two different things,” I said, heart aching a little for his loss. As much as I liked Hunter, as much as I secretly wanted him for more than a fake date, I hated that he’d had to go through the heartbreak of divorce. “If all this is too soon…”
“No, it’s time,” he said brusquely. “Past time, really. Iammoving on. You’ve helped me see that.”
“Me? I haven’t done anything.”
He gave me a long look. “You’ve done more than you know.”
My pulse quickened, but before I could say anything, Hunter glanced at the timer. “I’ll go tell Toby to wash up. Dinner’s almost done.”
I nodded once, mouth dry, as he strode from the room, wondering what he could have meant.
* * *
HUNTER
“This is so good!”Toby said, mouth stuffed with casserole and bits of biscuit.
“I’m glad you liked it,” Clark said with a slight nose wrinkle at Toby’s display of poor table manners.
“Chew with your mouth shut, kiddo.”
