Page 56 of Tall, Dark, & Ginger

Frowning, Jerryn slides his tablet across the island toward me. “It had good reviews, and I’ve used this recipe blog before. I hate asking you to work on your day off.”

“You didn’t. I’m offering.” I look over the recipe, noting several flaws. “The thing about soufflés is they’re finicky. You have to beat the egg whites to the right consistency and fold them in with precision. Outside of not knowing your technique, I would say your oven heat is too high and maybe this isn’t a big enough dish for it.” I look up to see the guys’ deflated expressions. “Would you like me to demonstrate it and then maybe you can try again next week?”

Jerryn’s expression lifts and he nods happily. “If you’re okay with it?”

“I am. I actually enjoy making them. Let’s start from the top.”

I walk through the process step by step using my own recipe I’ve been making since I decided I was into cooking. It’s a simple cheese and ham with yummy chives, and I’m thankful to live ina house with Lowen, who insists on having a variety of fancy cheeses and fresh veggies in the house at all times.

“I like to use gruyère. It’s got a lovely nutty flavor that bites through the egginess,” I explain as I grate the cheese into the batter. “Did the oven get wiped down?”

“I took care of it,” Jerryn says.

“Great. Could someone turn the oven down to three seventy-five please?”

Lowen is cutting up fruit while Indy pours glasses of juice, and as I finish mixing the ingredients, a surge of warmth spreads through me. The domesticity and normalcy of this moment isn’t lost on me. It’s nice. For the first time in ages, I feel a sense of belonging both personally and professionally.

“The dish.” I hurry to the pantry, choose the best one, then return to the kitchen. “I like this one. It’s got high walls to give the soufflé room to spread and rise evenly.”

Jerryn nods, taking in every word as Bane hovers over the island, watching intently. I pour the batter into the casserole dish, then Jerryn opens the oven for me.

I set the timer. “Use the oven light to monitor progress. You absolutely do not want to open the door or you’ll risk the soufflé deflating, which is even sadder than exploding.”

“You made that look so easy,” Bane says. “It took us twice as long to pull that batter together.”

“Practice. I’ve done it more than you, but you both have the skills and enthusiasm for it. You’ll nail it next time.”

Lowen reaches across the island and squeezes my hand. “You’re going to do so well on the cooking segment. What we just witnessed is proof of that.”

I feel my cheeks heat, but I try to accept the compliment. “I hope it goes that smoothly. I’m comfortable with you guys.”

“We’ll be there to support you.”

“Thanks.” I’ve successfully ignored the impending TV appearance, but it’s coming soon. I selected two easy dishes to make that highlight what’s great about the restaurant but also don’t put too much pressure on me since the whole thing is only twenty minutes.

When I let myself glance over at Ridley, he’s looking at me like I just invented the soufflé. A mixture of excitement, fear, and borderline panic creeps through me. I want to keep this, but I don’t want to mess it up by wanting too much. I don’t want him to regret me.

I know what I need to do. It’s been pinging around my brain for months, but I think the time is now. If I’m ever going to have a healthy relationship again, I’ve got to exorcise the ghosts of ex-boyfriends past.

Guess it’s time I schedule that therapy appointment.

TWENTY-ONE

RIDLEY

Standingin the green room of a downtown television studio at six in the morning is not something I ever thought would be on my to-do list, but here I am. It’s a no-brainer that me and the entire crew came down to support Wren, and thankfully I got some sleep last night. It helped a lot that I had a sexy ginger next to me and came so hard I saw stars.

Speaking of Wren, he’s a nervous wreck, so I put my hands on his shoulders and squeeze gently, massaging his knots. He melts into my touch, leaning his head back before catching himself and clearing his throat.

“Thanks,” he whispers, then blows out a breath. “I’ve got this.”

“You’ve absolutely got this.”

He turns to face me, searching my eyes for a second. “Weird timing, but if I don’t tell you now it’ll be too late.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m gonna be late coming in tonight. I have an appointment, but Carlos has everything under control.”

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