Page 177 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
We lock eyes again, but there’s no teasing in the intense heat between us.
“Can I help you with anything here?” I clear my throat and step aside to create more space for him at the island.
“I don’t know.” Archie disregards the distance I’ve tried to make and stands so close we touch. “Doyouknow how to cook?”
My words get lost in the sensation of his skin brushing mine. I shake my head. “Will you show me?”
He nods and his Adam’s apple bops with a hard swallow. “Let’s start with the onion. Dice it into small pieces.”
He hands it to me, then faces the stove to turn the corn and check the fish.
I set the onion on a cutting board and pick up a knife. “So…I slice it this way?” I make a cutting motion across the onion.
“Peel it first.”
I stare at him blankly.
“You’ve never cut an onion before?”
“I buy them pre-chopped or frozen. It’s faster.”
He looks at me like I’m crazy and takes the onion from me. “Onion needs to be fresh.”
After grabbing a metal container, he peels a layer off the onion and drops it into the container.
“What’s that?” I point to the metal thing.
“Compost.”
“What do you do with it?”
Archie stops peeling and looks at the container. “I don’t know. Britta or Dex always took care of it. Or maybe the housekeeper.”
I laugh, and he scowls at me. “At least I know what to do with an onion.”
He takes my knife from me and sets the onion back on the cutting board, then demonstrates how to slice off the ends and cut it in half.
“Now you slice it lengthwise in thin strips.”
He hands the knife back to me, and I make one crooked cut. “Like that?”
Archie shakes his head and steps behind me. Before I realize what’s happening, he’s wrapped his arms around me and his hands over mine to demonstrate how to hold the onion and knife. He drags the knife through the far side of the onion, working his way to the opposite end.
There’s no space between us. The only sound is the clap of the blade against the wood cutting board with each slow slice. Archie’s chest rises and falls against my back, his breathing matching the rhythm of the knife while sending slow shivers up my spine, one vertebra at a time.
My eyes water from the onion, but I can’t see because I’m too focused on the comfort I feel inArchie Forsythe’s arms.
The best part is how natural it feels to be here. The worst part is how much I don’t want it to end. Which is wrong in too many ways to count.
“I think I’ve got it,” I say breathlessly.
“I reckon so.” The words caress my ear even as he unwraps himself from me. “Not bad at all. Keep goin’. When you’re done, slice the opposite direction, so you have diced pieces.”
I glance at Archie as he turns back to the stove, worried he’s seen how flushed I am.
Then I notice his hands trembling.
I finish slicing the onion, then dice it, all while wondering if I imagined Archie’s slight tremor…wondering if he’s shaky for the same reason I am.
