by Jayci Lee
When Aubrey dragged herself out of bed, it was past ten o’clock in the morning. The villa was silent when she descended the stairs after a shower. Landon seemed to have left for work, and she stood alone in the kitchen, sipping a mug of strong coffee. Her strawberry shortcake had turned out well last night, but she wanted to play around with it a little more. There was room for improvement, especially with the texture of the cake after the macerated strawberries were poured on.
Aubrey enjoyed a quiet day on her own, experimenting with her new recipe, but by sunset, she found herself glancing out the windows facing the front and listening for tires crunching against the driveway.
She wasn’t sure how this roommate thing was supposed to work. Were they going to have dinner together? Should she cook something and wait for him to come home? No, not home, the villa. Her cheeks warmed up at her slip. Before she could fluster herself any further, her phone chimed to announce a new message.
Landon: I thought I’d pick up some Thai for us. Does that sound okay?
Her chest hurt as though it had fallen asleep like a lazy foot only to wake up to prickling pain. He was picking up dinner. For us. She couldn’t breathe.
Landon: Or I could cook if you’d like.
She gave her head a quick shake and typed out a response.
Aubrey: Thai sounds wonderful.
Landon: Great. I’ll see you around 7:30.
Aubrey: Okay, see you soon.
She stared at the screen for a long while, scared to look away. Her heart still fluttered like the wings of a dragonfly taking flight, and her blood hummed—this. A few words and suddenly she didn’t feel alone. Her thirsty soul soaked in the joy of having someone come home to her. Business associate. Friend. It didn’t matter at all. She was going to tuck away every moment of her time here. While she was in Bosque Verde, she wouldn’t be alone. She would have Landon.
Seven thirty was more than an hour away, and Aubrey didn’t want to drive herself crazy, waiting for him by the door. She trailed her fingers along the books in the living room bookshelf and chose a Julia Child biography. Curling her legs under her, she sat at the corner of a leather sofa and read the first page over and over again by the light of a table lamp.
The sound of a car driving toward the villa had her rushing to the door and pulling it wide open. Landon parked near the entrance and stepped out of the vehicle. Surprise registered on his face before his lips spread into a warm smile.
“Hi,” she said breathlessly.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” she repeated because she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
Landon hadn’t moved from his spot by his car, but her second greeting seemed to nudge him into action. He jogged over to the passenger side and pulled out two enormous paper bags with handles. One was a brown shopping bag, and the other was a plain white one. She’d never been to a restaurant that recycled random shopping bags for takeout.
He turned sideways to get through the doorway with his load, and Aubrey belatedly stepped aside so he could get inside.
“Did you order their entire menu?”
“Not quite,” he said with mischief in his voice.
“You should go change out of your suit. I can set the table.”
“No, I’m fine.” He placed the bags on the kitchen counter and pulled his tie off. “What I would like for you to do is get a nice, cool drink and hang out in the living room for a few minutes.”
“What are you up to?” She glanced sideways at him with narrowed eyes. But instead of answering, he gently pushed her out of the kitchen, handing her a bottle of sparkling water.
“Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”
About fifteen minutes later, Landon came into the living room and offered her his arm. She looped her arm through his with a shrug. He looked adorably excited, and she didn’t want to be a party pooper. When they stepped into the kitchen, she saw the table overflowing with beautiful food.
“Oh, my gosh. How did you do all this? I thought you were picking up takeout.”
“It is takeout, but I didn’t want you to miss the restaurant’s amazing presentation. I know the owner, so I asked them to pack the food for me in their serving wear. I promised to return everything tomorrow.”
Aubrey sat down, pulling her chair forward. “Okay. Tell me what I’m looking at.”
“This dish,” Landon said, pointing to a twelve-inch-wide plate with an indentation in the center the size of a soup bowl, “is the two-hundred-years pad thai. A recipe passed down for generations. That split langoustine on the side isn’t just for decoration. It’s so sweet and fresh, it’s one of the stars of the dish.”
“What are those little mounds?”
Pointing to each, he said, “Salt, chili flakes, and crushed peanuts.”
“And that’s a carrot rose? It’s as detailed as the roses I make for my cakes. I build mine petal by petal. How the heck did they carve a carrot into that?”
“Very carefully.” Landon chuckled, obviously pleased by her appreciation. “The food’s going to get cold. Let me move on to the rest.”
There were tamarind prawns nestled in a fresh pineapple bowl, sliced lengthwise; steamed fish in lime sauce in a steel, fish-shaped bowl; and red curry with rambutan, a close cousin of lychee, per Landon, stuffed with ground shrimp in a shallow golden pot with large handles on each side. It truly was a feast for all senses.
“I’m going to eat all of this,” Aubrey said fervently, her eyes never leaving the table. “Just kidding. I’ll let you have a little.”
Landon tossed the bean sprouts, chili flakes, and crushed peanuts into the pad thai and then finished with a splash of lime. Aubrey dug in as soon as he served her a generous portion. If ever there were a perfect bite, this was it. The dynamic scent blended into the flavors that first met her tongue—tart, sweet, and salty with a hint of nuttiness. Then there was the texture. The not-too-thick rice noodles were so chewy but not sticky, the sauce adding just the right amount of moisture.
She insisted they split the langoustine, pulling the succulent flesh out of the shell. She was delighted by the taut, crunchy outer texture, proof that it was fresh and perfectly cooked. And the sweetness. It wasn’t dessert, but it certainly was satisfying for a main dish.
Aubrey loved the addicting flavor of the tamarind shrimp, and the lip-puckering lime sauce and fresh cilantro on the tender steamed fish was refreshing. The red curry with rambutan was the most unique and novel Thai dish she’d ever tried. The rambutan has a firm texture similar to dried mangoes but a little softer and meatier. The ground shrimp inside had a meatball-like texture and added plenty of salt to the sweetness of the fruit. The spicy red curry with the creaminess of coconut milk rounded out the dish beautifully. Add in some jasmine rice, and she could have probably eaten a basinful in one seating.
She was so full her stomach was stretched tight, and she felt slightly light-headed. All her blood was rushing to her overstuffed stomach to assist with the digestion, leaving little for her brain.
“That was the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen,” said Landon.
Her butt nearly shot off her chair. She’d forgotten about Landon in her delirious gluttony. Oh, my God. “Did I actually eat all of this? Please tell me you ate enough, too.”
“I’ve seriously never seen someone eat a meal with such intensity and bliss before.”
“Did. You. Eat?” Mortification was washing over her in hot waves.
“Yes, yes.” He swiped his hand through the air as though her question were a pesky fruit fly. “So what made that happen? I’ve eaten with you before. This was definitely new.”
“Well, I love Thai food, obviously, and I was famished. But it was really the impact of the gorgeous presentation and the surprising combinations of flavor and texture that did it.” She blushed to the top of her hairline. Maybe her head was steaming a little at the crown. “Thank you so much for dinner, Landon.”
“It was my absolute pleasure. Your joy made my
meal more delicious as well.”
They chatted awhile longer and then cleared the table and washed the dishes in comfortable silence. That evening allowed her to ease into a lovely routine without overthinking things. Operation Friendship was in fine shape.
* * *
Preparations for the first shooting had the production team running around in a flurry of activity, and Aubrey and Landon’s cozy evenings came to an end. He seemed to be in the thick of it all, which meant she hardly saw him at the villa. In the last few days, he went to work before she woke up and came home after she fell asleep.
Her days were far less exciting without him. Aubrey sighed listlessly. Less exciting was a good thing. A safe thing. In fact, if she thought with her brain instead of her girlie parts, she would remember she had her heart and Comfort Zone to protect.
She shook off her melancholy and got herself ready for work. Her portion of the filming was scheduled to start in a week, and she still had one more recipe to create. That meant she had to hit the tasting rooms again. The perfect Moscato remained elusive even after several days of wine tasting. Even though light dessert wines were far less potent than fortified red wines, nausea rolled through Aubrey’s stomach. She would swish and spit every wine, and stop when she got tired.
After her decision to take things easy, the wine tour promised to be relaxing and enjoyable. And the tour provided pickup and drop-off service, so it was perfect for her current car-less situation. Her group was made up of a friendly middle-aged couple with their college-age daughter and a lovely older couple on vacation from Germany.
Michael, their tour guide and chauffeur, was a sun-bronzed Californian with a brilliant smile and an endless supply of jokes. The college girl laughed hysterically at every witticism, and Aubrey worried the poor girl might crack her ribs.
“Aubrey, you get shotgun.” Michael took her elbow and led her to the front passenger seat.
“Me? Are you sure?” She couldn’t help glancing at the younger woman, feeling guilty even though she’d done nothing wrong. But the girl glared at Aubrey with narrowed eyes, and her guilt evaporated. Glare at him, not me.
“Yes, I’m sure. Everyone else is here with someone.” He winked. “I’ll keep you company, so you won’t be lonely.”
She shrugged and climbed onto the front seat.
The off-the-beaten-path wineries Michael took them to were all beautifully situated and had an abundance of the white and dessert wines the group had signed up for. Aubrey spat and rinsed after every tasting. So far, the wines were lovely, and she was holding up fine.
“Hey,” she protested when Michael casually took her glass from her hand.
“This one’s exquisite,” he said, inhaling deeply from the glass.
He made a point of holding her gaze so she wouldn’t miss he was referring to both her and the wine. Inner Aubrey rolled her eyes, but tourist Aubrey humored the guide and offered a bland smile. He was, after all, giving them an excellent tour. But when he took a small sip of her wine, Aubrey had to draw the line. She didn’t mix spit with strangers. Gag.
“Give that back. You’re the designated driver.” She snatched her glass back. Michael guffawed like she’d made some adorable joke even though she was frying him with her death ray.
The next winery had a stunning view of the valley, so Aubrey forgave Michael’s prior wine theft. As the day wore on, the gorgeous vineyards and easy company relaxed Aubrey enough to let go of her stress. Finding a half a dozen candidates for her second dessert didn’t hurt either. At the end of the productive tour, the sway of the van lulled Aubrey to sleep as Michael drove the group back to their lodgings.
“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty.” She heard a faraway voice calling her. She struggled to wake up, her eyelashes fluttering against the weight of sleep.
Aubrey’s eyes shot open, remembering she was in a tour van. In fact, she was the last one in the van, and Michael was standing beside the open passenger door wearing his white, toothy grin. He offered his hand to help her off the van, and she grasped it to make sure she didn’t bury her drowsy nose into the driveway.
She tested her land legs and was relieved to find them sturdy, but when she tried to withdraw her hand, he held on. Suppressing her annoyance, Aubrey smiled stiffly and tugged harder at her hand.
“Sorry about keeping you. Thank you so much for a lovely tour.”
Michael relaxed his death grip, and she retrieved her hand, but he didn’t leave as she’d hoped. Now that she was fully awake, Aubrey was impatient to get started on her recipe.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to help you inside?” He gave her what had to be a well-practiced puppy dog face.
Cute … but not that cute. She sighed and opened her mouth to shoo him away, but her words caught in her throat as strong hands wrapped around her waist.
“Thanks for the offer, but I can take it from here.” Landon spoke quietly from behind, but the icy steel in his voice propelled Michael into action. He scampered to hand over her wine to Landon and drove away in a cloud of dust.
Aubrey spun out of Landon’s hold and gaped at him. His high-handedness infuriated her, but his possessiveness lit a fire in her pants. Fury and lust wrestled inside her with no clear winner.
“Enjoying the locals?” Landon raised an eyebrow and regarded her with a humorless smirk. “So this is how you’ve been spending your days.”
What the blazing hell? “Why, yes, I do enjoy meeting the locals.” Aubrey’s temper burned through any lingering confusion. She was her own person, and no one controlled her choices. “There are so many lovely, interesting people here.”
“Is that so?” His icy voice sent a shiver down her spine.
“More importantly, it’s none of your business how I spend my days. Or with whom.”
“Like hell it isn’t.”
“I agreed to guest star on Aria’s show with two original recipes. I went wine tasting to find the Moscato for my second dessert, because it’s a part of my job, if you recall.” Her flight instinct had a slight edge over her fight instinct, but she held her ground and pulled back her shoulders. “I don’t go frolicking in the fields when you leave the house, asshole. I take my work very seriously.”
“Fuck.” The fight drained out of Landon in a blink, and he scrubbed his face with his hands. “That was uncalled for. I was way out of line.”
“It was, and you were.” As she stood glaring at him with her arms folded across her chest, she noticed for the first time how exhausted he looked. Her brows drew together as concern overshadowed her anger.
“I didn’t like it,” he said, holding her gaze. “I didn’t like seeing him touch you. Looking at you that way.”
“Landon,” she whispered. His words wrapped around her heart and squeezed tight. “You can’t say things like that.”
“I know.” His regret and yearning were palpable in the moment, and his vulnerability made Aubrey ache to hold him.
Landon squeezed the back of his neck and closed his eyes for a few breaths. When he opened them again, all his emotions were in check. The moment had passed. Gratitude, disappointment, and regret filled her.
“It looks like you’ve had a rough day.” Her voice shook only a little.
“The construction on the schoolhouse is delayed by days. Every damn thing is leaking and short-circuiting. Then, the production manager’s wife went into labor five weeks early, so he had to fly home today. The baby was in a rush to meet his parents, I guess.” He ran his fingers through his hair, looking sheepish. “So yeah. It’s been one hell of a day, but it’s no excuse for being a jerk.”
“No, it isn’t.” Aubrey’s tart response was half-hearted. He needed to rest, not stand in the middle of the driveway arguing with her for no good reason. She held out her hand with a no-hard-feelings smile. “With all that going on, I’d be a little cranky, too. Truce?”
His brows shot up to his forehead, and then a relieved grin spread across his face. He clasped her hand, but instea
d of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips for a lingering kiss. Her toes curled, and her legs threatened to wobble.
“Truce.”
Landon took heavy-footed steps up the stairs, and Aubrey headed for the kitchen. A shower and a nap should do him wonders, but she had a feeling his version of rest consisted of stretching his legs out in an armchair and reading his emails.
By the time sunset flooded the kitchen with its orange glow, Aubrey was banging around like a raccoon raiding a trash can. She could taste the smooth Moscato sorbet in her head, but the cold glob in her mouth only bore a passing resemblance to the one in her imagination. When she was happy with the flavor, the texture was not quite right, and when the texture came out just so, the flavor was underwhelming. Alcoholic beverages were notoriously hard to freeze properly, especially in ice cream consistency. Frustration knotted her stomach.
At least her cherry-and-walnut cookies were exquisite. The local olive oil added a brisk, floral flavor to them, and the lightly sprinkled pink Himalayan salt drew out more of the subtle layers of flavor.
Aubrey loved chewy and crunchy cookies equally, but for this recipe, she went for a delicate, crisp exterior and a moist, chewy center. The cookie held a savory note from the olive oil and a hint of saltiness, but it was sweet. No baked good had a right to call itself a cookie without being sweet. And the cherries added a zing to keep things fun.
The cookies were about the size of her palm, so she could build a full-size ice cream sandwich. The crispy, chewy texture wouldn’t crack apart at the first bite, and its density would keep it from soaking up the ice cream and getting soggy.
Unfortunately, the latest batch of sorbet was unworthy of being hugged by such awesomeness. She had to get the recipe right. Comfort Zone’s future could depend on her two recipes for the show. All she needed was a goddamn perfect Moscato sorbet. Was perfection too much to ask for? Her frustration boiling over, Aubrey balled up a dish towel and threw it across the kitchen.
“Whoa!” Landon caught the towel an inch from his face. “I thought we called a truce.”
