by Jaci Burton
He wrapped an arm around her, tugged her close and deepened the kiss. She moaned against his mouth.
When they broke apart, she read the heated passion in his eyes.
“Keep that up and I’ll never be able to give you your surprise tonight.”
She invited him in and closed the door. “Ooh. There’s a surprise?”
“There is.”
“Now I’m excited.”
His lips curved. “I hope you like it. I thought it might be fun.”
“Are we going bowling again?”
He laughed. “Not bowling.”
“Now I’m curious and excited.”
“Good. Let’s go.”
He drove them into Clayton, to a shopping center where he parked and they got out.
When she saw where they were headed, she turned to him. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
She grinned as they stepped inside, having figured out what was happening. It was a kitchen setup, but definitely industrial, with a long stainless steel island, a stove and lots of tools. Tools she was definitely unfamiliar with.
There was no one else here yet.
“We’ll just sit in the middle,” Tucker said, leading her to a spot in the center of the stainless steel island.
They were going to take a cooking class. She sat on the stool, then pivoted to face him. “What made you come up with this idea?”
“I figured since neither of us knew how to cook, maybe we could get some tips here. And, you know, stay in more often.”
When he waggled his brows, she laughed. “I like where your mind goes, Tucker Cassidy.”
“I figured you might. Plus, you know, we’d also go hungry less often.”
She shook her head. “Always thinking with your stomach.”
He leaned into her. “Either my stomach or my cock. Mostly my cock.”
She laughed.
The instructor came out, a tall, energetic and super friendly woman named Patricia, who informed them that tonight they’d learn how to make an appetizer, main course and dessert.
Aubry looked around. “Where are the rest of the people?”
“I booked us a private couple’s class. More fun that way.”
She smiled at him. “Let’s hope you still think it’s fun when we get to the end of the class.”
He pulled her against him. “Oh, it’ll definitely be fun. I can feel it.”
She liked his confidence.
The first thing they were going to learn was how to make pasta.
“Whoa,” she said. “This sounds daunting.”
Tucker put his arm around her. “You’re a doctor. You do amazing things to help people every day, Aubry. Surely you’re not going to be intimidated by a little pasta, are you?”
She inhaled a deep breath. “I guess not.”
They put on aprons, Aubry rolled up her sleeves and they got to work on the eggs and flour, cutting the eggs into the flour and making the dough for the pasta. Aubry was intrigued by the pasta machine, and she watched with delight as Tucker had fun rolling the dough through the machine. They seemed to ace this part, and she set the pasta on the rack to dry.
She looked at him. “That seemed to actually work.”
“It did, didn’t it?” he said with a grin.
For the appetizer, they sliced the caps off mushrooms and dug out the insides to make stuffed mushrooms, mixing in cheese, garlic and bread crumbs before putting them in the oven to bake.
For dessert they were making almond biscotti, which made Aubry’s mouth water and her stomach grumble. She decided to start that, while Tucker worked on the spaghetti sauce and meatballs. It was truly a team effort, and the smells were divine.
Fortunately, the cooking school also provided wine, an awesome bonus. She sipped wine and made her log roll for the biscotti, tucked it into the oven and turned to see if she could help Tucker, who seemed to be mastering his sauce. She grabbed a spoon and slid it into the pan for a taste.
“This is delicious,” she said.
He looked at her. “Of course it is.”
She laughed, but she admired his confidence. She also believed that confidence would be what it would take to become a decent cook. You had to believe you could do it. It was a lot like medicine. Not for sissies. You had to believe in yourself.
She could do this. They could do this.
She helped him with the meatballs, and after those were ready, they added them to the simmering sauce while she went back to finish up the biscotti.
Their instructor was fantastic, not hovering, but giving direction and staying nearby to give them pointers, advising them how to manage the cook times and which items to prep at what times. Since it was just the two of them, it gave Aubry peace of mind to know Patricia wasn’t going to let them screw this up.
When their stuffed mushrooms were finished, they actually had time to sit and savor their wine and appetizer together. She fed one to Tucker, feeling nervous as he chewed, then swallowed.
“This is really good. Here, try one.”
She tasted it, as surprised as he was that they had cooked something that had turned out so well.
“It is good.”
“You two are funny,” Patricia said, tasting one of their mushrooms.
“Why?”
“You seem surprised that you can cook.”
Aubry laughed. “We can make eggs and bacon. That’s about it.”
“Don’t forget we can also do toast,” Tucker added.
“Right,” Aubry said. “Toast.”
“Buy some cookbooks and start experimenting,” Patricia said. “You might surprise yourselves with all the dishes you can make.”
Since her biscotti was done, and it smelled amazing, Aubry set a pot filled with water on to boil, then filled it with the spaghetti noodles. It wasn’t long before the main course was ready, homemade noodles and meatballs covered with sauce.
“I’m going to be honest with you here,” she said to Tucker.
“Honest about what?”
“I’ve never been so nervous about anything in my entire life.”
He gave her a quick kiss, then raised his fork to hers. “Here’s to testing our culinary prowess.”
They both tasted at the same time.
“This doesn’t suck,” he said.
The noodles were cooked well, and the meatballs were flavorful. The sauce was great, too. They might not be experts and this dish certainly wasn’t restaurant quality, but for a first effort, Tucker was right. It didn’t suck.
“We might actually be able to handle this cooking thing,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“Or maybe it’s just the wine talking.”
Patricia came by and filled a small plate with their main course and took a taste.
“It’s not the wine talking. You both did good.”
Aubry felt like she’d just aced her MCATs all over again. “Yes!” She high-fived Tucker.
“Now enjoy your dinner,” Patricia said. “And the wine.”
“Thanks,” Tucker said. “We will.”
Aubry wasn’t a foodie. She enjoyed eating, but most of the time she was at work and food was just whatever she could grab to keep from starving. Tonight, though, she savored every bite, wishing she could box it up, take it home and keep it forever.
She’d never been a cook. She’d spent all her time at the hospital, studying, or, before that, in school, so cooking had never been something she’d mastered. Now, though, she felt like it was a challenge she could devote more time to.
“I’m going to order some cookbooks and start fixing meals for us to eat,” she said.
“That’ll require gadgets,” Tucker said, sliding another piece of meatball into his mouth.
“You mean like pots and pans? I have some of those.”
“This homemade pasta is good. I’d like to work on that again. And this sauce is pretty damn good, too.”
She took a sip of her wine and nodded. “The sauce is
incredible. The fresh herbs really made a difference. I wish I had a house with a big yard so I could have an herb garden.”
He laid his fork down and picked up his glass of wine to take a sip. “What’s stopping you from buying a house?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not something I’ve ever thought about doing. It’s just me, and I don’t really need the space. The condo has always been adequate for my needs.”
“Except you can’t grow a garden in those tiny backyards that come with a condo.”
“So true. What about you?”
“Same thing. Just me, and I lease the condo in case I get traded. In my business, unless you know you’re going to be with one team for the long haul, you don’t set down roots.”
“Good point.” And just the thought of Tucker being traded caused an ache in her stomach. She was enjoying her time with him.
Maybe too much?
That was something she didn’t intend to think about tonight. Not when she was having so much fun.
She took another swallow of wine and decided to ponder the thought of a house instead. She’d always intended to buy a house after she got settled . . . somewhere. After residency, when she figured out where she’d end up practicing medicine.
What prevented her from buying now, though? She could always sell if she decided to move for work. Just the thought of being able to plant a garden, grow some tomatoes and herbs, excited her.
It was a sudden epiphany. She could sell her condo and buy a house.
“What are you thinking about over there? You went quiet all of a sudden.”
“Oh, sorry. I was thinking about how I’ve put things on hold until after my residency. Things like buying a house. And then wondering why I couldn’t just do that now.”
He finished off his glass of wine, then set it on the table. “No reason you couldn’t buy now, is there? Unless you’re going to be moving.”
“I could apply for a fellowship to a hospital in another state. But I like the hospital I’m working in. And St. Louis is my home.”
“So your ultimate goal is to stay here.”
She’d never thought in those terms before, had always kept herself in the here and now, refusing to think that far down the road. “I don’t know. Maybe that is what I’m saying.”
“So buy yourself a house, Aubry. Do whatever the hell it is you want to do. You’ve worked your ass off these past few years in medical school and residency. Isn’t it time you reap the rewards of that?”
She stared at him.
He smiled back at her. “What?”
“No one has ever told me to just go for it before, to do whatever I want to do.”
He leaned forward and grasped her hands. “I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Then let me say it again. You should do what you want to do. Whatever it is you want to do. Because you deserve to have whatever makes you happy.”
Something inside her heart clenched. She didn’t know what it was, and sitting here with a cooking instructor monitoring them wasn’t the place to dissect it.
Or maybe she did know what it was, and this either wasn’t the time or place, or she wasn’t ready to face it yet. So she tucked it back into her heart and brushed her lips across Tucker’s.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now how about that biscotti?”
TUCKER NEVER THOUGHT HE’D HAVE HIS TRUCK PILED up with fancy pots and pans and gadgets to make food. But as he carted all the boxes into the house, he had to admit, he was pretty excited.
Now he just had to actually use it all. Which he would, right away, since his brothers Barrett and Flynn were coming over. He and Aubry had decided they should cook together, and when he told her his brothers were flying in for a visit, she suggested they cook for them.
His brothers definitely liked to eat, just like he did. They’d make good guinea pigs for him and Aubry.
Since their cooking class two weeks ago, he and Aubry had bought a few cookbooks and tried out some recipes. Nothing too fancy, but they’d made some dishes. Successful ones, too. But his supply of cookware and accessories was limited, and they always seemed to end up at his place, so he had decided to do a little shopping and stock up.
He might actually have a knack for this cooking thing. If nothing else, he’d eat a lot less take-out food. And that wasn’t a bad thing.
He had everything washed, dried and put away when the doorbell rang. It was Aubry, holding two bags of groceries.
“There’s more in the car,” she said. “If you’d like to go get those, I’ll start putting these away.”
“Okay.” He went out and grabbed the rest of the bags, shut the trunk of her car and came back inside.
“I’m making guesses as to where you want this stuff,” she said as he laid the bags on the island.
“Wherever you want to put things is fine.”
They unloaded all the bags, then Aubry leaned against the island.
“Okay. I got amazing salmon steaks. I’m already hungry just thinking about it.”
“Me, too.”
“When do your brothers get in?”
He grabbed his phone and checked the time. “They should be here soon.”
“I also bought beer. Like, lots of beer. You said the guys like beer.”
He laughed. “Yeah, I noticed the beer. I already had some, but they drink like fish. I think we’ll have plenty.”
“I got wine, too, which is chilling in the fridge. I should probably start the marinade for the salmon.”
She started toward the fridge, but he grabbed her hand. “There’s no hurry on that, Aubry. You should open the wine, pour yourself a glass and relax.”
She looked at him like he’d just sprouted two heads. “Relax? We’re cooking for your brothers tonight. How am I supposed to relax? I’m still a novice at this cooking thing, Tucker.”
“And my brothers eat hot dogs from the microwave. They’re hardly culinary connoisseurs. So . . . chill, okay?”
She took a deep breath, then let it out. “Clearly, I’m slightly nervous about this. You and I playing in the kitchen together is one thing. Cooking for someone else is different.”
He pulled her toward him, brushing his fingers against her hand. “They’re not someone else. They’re my brothers. You could fix them a bowl of cereal and they’d be happy. Just relax.”
“Fine. I’m opening the wine.”
He smiled, shook his head and grabbed a beer as she went for the wine. Just then, the doorbell rang.
“Get your wine. I’ll get the door.”
He opened the door to his brothers Barrett and Flynn.
“Hey, asshole,” Barrett said, but then hugged him as he stepped inside.
“Hey yourself, dickhead.”
“I don’t smell anything, other than you,” Flynn said, hugging him. “Is dinner ready yet?”
He hugged Flynn. “We haven’t started yet. Waiting for you to pitch in.”
They laid their bags inside the front door.
“I can cook a masterpiece of a meal for you with hot dogs and a cucumber,” Flynn said. “Let me at your kitchen.”
Barrett snorted. “I’d rather go for fast food than eat something you’ve cooked, Flynn.”
“You’ve obviously never eaten my cooking,” Flynn said, he and Barrett following Tucker into the kitchen. “I’m good at this shit.”
Aubry was leaning against the counter, glass of wine in her hand. “Aubry, you met Barrett before. This is my brother Flynn.”
She pushed off the counter and shook Flynn’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Flynn.”
“You too, Aubry. I hear you and my brother have become master chefs.”
She laughed. “Hardly. I hope Tucker didn’t set your expectations too high for this meal. We’re very new at cooking.” She turned to Tucker. “Maybe I should have bought hot dogs as a backup, just in case.”
“Don’t worry, honey,” Barrett said. �
��We’re here to help pitch in.”
“Yeah, if we were nuking hot dogs,” Tucker said. “Which we aren’t.”
Barrett glared at Tucker. “Screw you. I can cook.”
“No, you can make hot dogs, Barrett. I can cook,” Flynn said.
“Neither of you can cook.” Tucker went to the fridge and grabbed three beers, handing two over to his brothers and keeping one for himself. “Aubry and I are in charge of this meal tonight.”
“So Barrett and I will just hang out and look pretty,” Flynn said.
“That’s what you two are good at,” Tucker said. “The hanging out part. Not the pretty part.”
Aubry hid her smirk as she followed the three brothers into the living room. If nothing else, this evening should be entertaining. When she’d met Grant and Barrett a while back, she’d been in work mode, treating Tucker for an injury, so she hadn’t had much time or focus to truly capture the camaraderie among the brothers. Now, though, and despite a little trepidation about the upcoming dinner she and Tucker were cooking, she intended to relax and enjoy this.
She slid into a spot on the sofa next to Tucker. “Tucker tells me you’re in town for one of the kid’s school events? Grant’s girlfriend’s brother, if I recall?”
“Yeah,” Flynn said. “Leo plays football, but right now he’s playing baseball. His team is in the championships, so we decided since we were both traveling, we’d head over here and catch the championship games.”
“How exciting for him.”
“No doubt they’ll win,” Tucker said. “He’s developing into a hell of a stud for a kid who didn’t play much sports not that long ago.”
“Grant’s influence,” Barrett said to Aubry. “And ours. You can’t mix with this family and escape without the sports bug.”
“Except for Mia—” Tucker turned to Aubry. “Our little sister. She’s in college, and happy to be away from the nonstop sports talk and roughhousing that goes on whenever we’re together.”
“Does this mean you all play football or baseball whenever you’re together?”
“Baseball?” Flynn laughed. “Who’d want to play that pussy game?”
Tucker pinned Flynn with a look. “I will lay you flat and shove a baseball down your throat.”
“You could try, but between Barrett and me, you’d be the one eating it.”
