Page 26 of Taking Chances in Cedarwood

“And?”

“I touched a nerve, but I think we made a breakthrough.” He didn’t want to look too enthusiastic but he felt that he and Maddie had made progress.

“She can be touchy.” Andrew bowed his head. “I guess my life is just as complicated.”

“Never said it wasn’t.” He grasped Andrew’s hand. “I’m not worried.”

“No?”

“Nope. Complicated makes life interesting,” Cain said. “It also forces us to decide what we want.”

“What do you want?” Andrew asked, his voice husky.

“You.” He kissed Andrew. “Let’s put all of this away so we can enjoy the evening.”Preferably naked.

“I like how you think.”

Things with Andrew were still in flux and his life could collapse at any moment, but he and Andrew were forging something wonderful together, and soon, he’d get Andrew unfiltered.

Forty-five minutes later, Cain followed Andrew into the house. The dog trotted along with them, making the family complete. Cain’s muscles ached in ways he’d never imagined. The most grueling workouts weren’t this tough. Now he’d relax with Andrew.

“I’ll make dinner.” Andrew removed his boots, then washed his hands in the sink just inside the door. He headed into the kitchen and plucked ingredients from the pantry. “There’s lettuce in the crisper. Cut up a few tomatoes and tear the spinach.”

Cain washed his hands, then hesitated before opening the fridge. His breath lodged in his throat. If he didn’t tell Andrew the truth, he’d make a fool of himself. “I don’t know how.” Embarrassment washed over him. “I never learned.”

“How what?” Andrew placed a box of spaghetti on the counter. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know how to cook. Don’t know how to cut things up or tear or whatever. I never learned.” He inched away from Andrew. Guys liked other guys who could cook. He wasn’t one of those men. He also swore his lack of skills in the kitchen equaled failure as a person.

“Never?” Andrew filled a large pot with water. “Then I’ll teach you. I’ve got cutting boards over on the other counter. You’ve never had to cut something up?”

“No.” Someone had always handled preparing food and had never invited him to learn how. “I’m shit with a knife.” He’d learned that on the set of the lone horror flick he’d starred in. The director had had to have a body double do the slashing for him.

“Okay.” Andrew added salt and oil to the water. “When I make spaghetti, I do what my mom taught me to do—add just a little oil and a pinch of salt to the water, then turn it on. The salt encourages the water to boil faster and the oil is there to keep the pasta from sticking. I’ll turn the burner on, but I’ll keep an eye on it.” He dried his hands on a towel. “I never actually looked up why the oil and salt trick works, and I should.” He shrugged. “Now, about the cutting—you need knife skills.”

Cain admired Andrew’s ease in the kitchen. It was as if he was born to be there.So patient, too.Cain inspected the pot, then turned his attention to Andrew. “I’ve never had to learn to cook for a role. Drive, play rudimentary piano, paint…not cook. I even failed at learning how to slash things, but I can playOde to Joyon the piano.”

“I didn’t know you tickled the ivories.” Andrew picked a knife from the magnetic board on the wall.

“More like annoy them into making sound—exceptOde to Joy.” Cain focused on Andrew. He marveled at Andrew’s patience. He’d bet Andrew was a cautious lover until he got comfortable with his partner. Then he’d probably be wild.

“I hold the knife like this, low on the handle so I have more control. When I cut, I keep the tip of the blade on the board,” Andrew said. “It’s not about speed. It’s about watching what I’m doing so I don’t get cut.” He picked up a tomato. “And I hold the tomato so the fingers of the hand on the tomato are curled under. That way my knuckles are against the side of the blade. Like this.”

Cain paid close attention. Cutting the tomato didn’t seem too hard. “I can do that.”

“Then why don’t you try soloing?” Andrew offered up the knife. “You’ll be great, but don’t slice off your finger.”

“I’ll try not to.” He loved the rapport he’d built up with Andrew. Every time he looked at Andrew, he realized he wasn’t in the mood to eat. His stomach rumbled, but he’d rather get naked with Andrew. He wanted to kiss, touch and caress him. He focused on the tomato and appreciated Andrew being close by. “Like this?” He did just as he’d been shown, and within minutes, he’d chopped the fruit. “I did it.” And he hadn’t cut off his fingers.

“You did.” Andrew kissed him. “Want to try a cucumber?” He added the pasta to the boiling water. “See how it’s a rolling boil? It’s steady. If you put the spaghetti in too early, it’ll stick together and become mushy.”

“Makes sense.” He rubbed his cheek against Andrew’s shoulder. “Do you teach everyone to cook?”

“Just the hot ones.” He kissed Cain again. “Make sure we stir this, or it’ll all get stuck together and then we’ll have a mess.”

“Oh.” Cain stared at the pasta in the water. “You were taught to cook?”

“That, and my parents were always busy. My mother insisted I know how to feed myself.” Andrew opened a drawer. “I’m going to assume you’ve never used a peeler.”

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