Page 33 of Jilted Jock
He looked up and shot me a disarming smile. “Someone ought to use this kitchen for more than storing sparkling water. Your knives were shit. I got you a new one.” He lifted the big, shiny knife and then went right back to chopping whatever it was he had on the cutting board.
“You cook? Seriously?”
“I like to eat.” He shrugged. “Going out isn’t always the easiest, so I learned to cook a few things.”
“Right. Dining at all the LA hotspots looked like a real chore.” My face heated and I tried with all my might to suck back in the words. I’d given too much away about my snooping his social media. His gaze snapped to mine and I waited for him to call me out on it, but he didn’t.
“Do you like Thai?”
“I like all food.” I put my sandwich in the fridge. “What can I do to help?”
“Can I trust you with the knife?”
I rolled my eyes. “Just because I don’t like to cook doesn’t mean I don’t know how.”
All lies.
He shook the knife at me. “Now, I know that’s a lie. I’ve seen your fridge and I’ve read your gratitude journal. I distinctly remember seeing takeaway on the list of things you were grateful for more than once. Along with really odd foods like beef wellington and baked Alaska – none of which I’ve seen you make.”
“Maybe I’m just busy and grateful for the convenience of takeaway.”
He waited me out.
“Fine, I can’t cook.” I shot him a playful glare. “Beef wellington and baked Alaska are on my list of things to learn to make someday.”
He smirked. “Like a cooking for dummies class?”
I took the knife from him. “Something like that.”
I diced the onion while Finn cooked the chicken and boiled water for the noodles. Eventually I sat down on the stool on the other side of the kitchen counter and watched him work. Let’s be honest, I wasn’t providing a lot of value anyway.
“Did you and the ex cook together a lot?”
He paused with the spatula lifted above the pan and I regretted bringing it up.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Just curious. From everything I’ve seen, your lives looked more like an episode of the Kardashians than Rachel Ray.”
“Cindy preferred going out. She didn’t like the mess or the smell.”
“The smell?”
He’d gone back to stirring again and I noticed how at ease he looked and how down to earth he seemed. I was having a hard time getting a handle on which Finn was real – this one, or was this just Finn fresh off a broken heart hiding out from the world?
“Yeah, she didn’t like the smells lingering after dinner.”
“As opposed to it smelling like scented candles and incense?”
He chuckled, turned the heat down, and covered the pan. Sitting next to me on the other stool, Finn said, “I guess so.”
He propped an elbow on the counter and gave me his full attention. “Does the boyfriend cook?”
“No, he’s hopeless in the kitchen, too.”
“So, you guys just eat out all the time?”
“During the week, it’s just me. Cooking for one is hard and not very fun so I usually grab something for lunch and then save half of it for dinner. On the weekends when we’re together we order in or sometimes go out. We have to cram all our date nights into a weekend. Sometimes we go two or three weeks without seeing each other.”
“It was like that for Cindy and me in the beginning too.”
