by Liv Brywood
“Hey Olson, are you ready to get started?” Carrie asked as she strolled into the room.
Brody raised a brow. He’d met her for the first time during lunch where she’d made some bitchy comments about Donna. The mousy woman with a mean spirit apparently had a soft spot for elderly people. At least she wasn’t all bad.
“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” Olson said. “What about you? I get why me and this young fella are here, but you already know how to cook. I don’t even know what half of this stuff is.” He waved his hand over the counter. Various ingredients and measuring tools covered the area.
Carrie shrugged. “What can I say, I love to learn new things. When I heard about Madison’s week-long cooking class, I knew had to join it. I can hold my own in the kitchen, but she whips up absolutely mouthwatering food, so I’m here to learn her secrets. Once I learn how to cook the way she does, I’ll be able to invite a guest over and wow him.”
When she batted her eyelashes at Brody. He pretended not to notice, but her intention was pretty damn clear. Although he was flattered, he’d never date an uptight, mean-spirited woman.
Madison and another woman from the class walked into the room together. When Donna strolled in behind them, his mouth went dry. Her crisp, bright red cherry-patterned apron screamed 1950s housewife, but in a sexy, Playboy kind of way. Her hair was poofed up and curled like a pinup model. With each step, her bright red heels clicked across the linoleum and her hips swayed in the most alluring way.
His bear ogled the outline of her luscious curves and roared to life. The creature bounced around in his chest, demanding that he be released. Brody had to look away momentarily, just to rein in the beast.
“I didn’t realize this was a beauty pageant,” Carrie mumbled under her breath. She snorted and glared at Donna before turning away.
Donna flinched and her smile wavered for a moment before it returned. She slid onto the stool next to Brody.
“Hi, Cowboy,” she said. Bright red lipstick framed her perfect, sparkling white teeth. Her plump, full lips formed a Cupid’s bow. His sister loved to read beauty magazines, so he was up on all the lipstick lingo.
“Hi,” he managed.
As she smiled, he resisted the urge to kiss her right there in front of everyone. He shook his head slightly. Get it together, he chided himself.
“Are you guys ready for the first lesson?” Madison’s gaze passed from him to Olson and back.
“I think we’re all a little anxious,” Olson said. “Goodness, Miss Donna, you sure look pretty today. You remind me of my Lucille. She had an apron just like that one. Granted, that was fifty years ago, but I still remember coming home from work to find her slaving away in the kitchen for me. She didn’t have to, but she always said she did it because she loved me.”
When he got choked up, Donna hopped off her stool and gave Olson a hug.
“It sounds like you two had a beautiful relationship,” she said.
“Married fifty-two years come Christmas. I can’t believe I’m going to celebrate it without her this year,” he said.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I count myself lucky.” He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “I reckon most people don’t get fifty years with the woman they love. We had a good life.”
Donna squeezed his hand before returning to her stool. At the front of the room, Madison began talking about the recipe for the day, but he couldn’t concentrate. A whiff of Donna’s perfume drifted to his nose, renewing his bear’s insistence that they shift and claim her. The beast clawed and flailed until he promised the creature that he’d let him out later that day. But his bear wasn’t having it. He wanted to knock everything off of the counter so that he could bend Donna’s curvy body over it and fuck her silly. He’d strip her naked, but leave those sexy heels on.
“…and this is a pastry brush.” Madison held up what looked like a paintbrush. “You’ll need this when you’re buttering your biscuits.”
Brody breathed in through his mouth. He knew whose biscuits he’d like to butter, but now was definitely not the time or the place to do it. If his bear didn’t quit it, he was going to have to leave the cooking class.
“All right everyone, let’s get started,” Madison said. “Today we’re going to be making one of my favorite side dishes—Southern buttermilk biscuits. Now these are real traditional buttermilk biscuits, not that pre-packaged junk you buy in the store. It’s always better to cook from scratch because it tastes so much better. The first thing you want to do is preheat your oven to 450 degrees. Donna, would you mind doing it since you’re closest to it?”
“Sure.”
She hopped off of her stool and bent over to adjust the dial. Brody groaned and washed his hand across his face. Her backside was just as impressive as the front.
“Now grab your mixing bowls and let’s get started,” Madison said.
Several minutes later, she was working her way through each station. “That’s the perfect consistency, Jonah. Awesome, just keep stirring, Olson.” When she reached Donna, she glanced into her bowl. “Perfect, but make sure you incorporate all of the ingredients completely. You’ll want to get the measurements exactly right too. That’s the key to baking. There’s a lot of chemistry involved, so if you leave out one ingredient, or you don’t have enough of something, it will ruin your biscuits.”
As Donna steadily worked the dough, Brody wondered what if would feel like to have those hands on his body.
“Don’t we need a rolly thingy for this?” Donna asked Madison.
“A rolling pin?”
“Yeah, that.”
Madison chuckled. “Not for this recipe, but we’ll use one later in the week.”
Brody caught Carrie rolling her eyes.
“Everyone listen up for a moment,” Madison said. “If you want really good biscuits—and I mean really good—you don’t want to toughen them up by working with the dough too much. So we won’t be using a rolling pin, we’ll be spreading out the dough by hand.”
“What do you think, Cowboy?” Donna asked as she held up her dough.
Brody bit the corner of his lip to keep from laughing. Flour covered her entire apron. She’d managed to get flour on her cheeks, neck, and all over her shoes. She’d even gotten some in her hair.
“I didn’t realize we were supposed to be wearing the ingredients,” he teased as he reached up to brush the flour off of her cheek.
She pretended to pout before a huge grin spread across her face.
“I like to get messy,” she whispered in a conspiratorial way.
A shot of adrenaline arced from his heart straight to cock. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from the naughty look on her face.
“Could this be any messier?” Carrie complained, breaking the spell. She held up her hands, which were covered in sticky biscuit dough. “I’d rather just use canned biscuits if it’s going to be this much of a hassle.”
She glanced at the flour on Donna’s apron and smirked, but didn’t comment on it. Which was good because Brody’s bear already wanted to claw her eyes out.
“Don’t worry about being perfect,” Madison said. “Life isn’t fun when you take things too seriously.”
Donna pursed her lips and blew a lock of flour-streaked hair off of her face.
Brody agreed completely. No one could be perfect all the time, and he’d go crazy if he even attempted it. Sometimes life’s messiest moments turned out to be the best ones. His sister Lizzie was a perfect example. Some people might see her as less than perfect, but in his mind, she couldn’t be any closer to perfect if she tried. His heart warmed. He couldn’t wait to bake a cake for his sister.
Carrie scowled and turned her back on Donna, who was too busy watching Brody to notice. He worked the dough in his bowl until it reached the same consistency as Donna’s.
“You know…” Donna whispered so softly that he could barely hear her. “I haven’t had anyone butter my biscuits in a long time. Maybe m
y new cooking skills will help me change that. What do you think?”
What Brody thought could get him into a heap of trouble. She didn’t need cooking skills to get him all hot and bothered. She was an enigma. Soft, sweet, and innocent one minute, and a sultry siren the next. On the outside, she appeared to be a refined, glamorous woman, but he suspected she had a scandalous side.
Flirting with someone like her was a completely new experience. She wasn’t shy and seemed to say whatever was on her mind. He was used to dating the quiet type, so he wasn’t sure what exactly to say to her. Not that he wanted to date her. She wasn’t anything like the kind of woman he’d pictured as his wife. Given that, it might be best to just stay neutral and polite.
His bear completely disagreed and wanted to accept her thinly veiled invitation. He had completely different plans which involved throwing her down on the countertop. The beast wanted to show her what it was like to be taken hard and deep.
“I think…I think it’s time to put these suckers on the pan and in the oven,” he replied. “Are you done using the biscuit cutter?”
Her lip quirked as she reached for the small metal circle. Apparently she wasn’t fazed by his avoidance of her offer. He quickly cut out twelve biscuits and then placed them on a cookie sheet.
“All right everyone, let’s set the timers for eleven minutes,” Madison instructed. “But that doesn’t mean that you get to run off just yet! I’ve got another little quick recipe we’re going to work on while we’re letting the biscuits bake. We’re going to make a vanilla pear drop aperitif.”
“A what?” Donna asked.
“It’s a cocktail.” Madison said. “Olson, I’m going to have to check your ID before I let you get near the alcohol.”
Everyone laughed while Olson waved her off. A huge grin split his face.
“This is the most fun I’ve had in months,” he said.
“Well I’m glad I could help,” Madison said.
Donna clapped her hands, rubbing them together as Madison placed small bowls of fruit, lemon juice, and vodka in front of them.
“Now this I can do,” Donna said.
Brody wasn’t a big drinker, and he knew even less about fancy cocktails. Give him an ice-cold beer and he was content.
“Do you make these kinds of drinks back home?” he asked.
“I never really needed to make them per se, but I’ve seen them done.” Donna picked up the metal cocktail shaker. “It’s pretty simple.”
“We’ll be starting off by making the syrup,” Madison said. “To do that you’ll need to pour six ounces of water and seven ounces of the sugar into the saucepan. Then take your vanilla pod—”
“Vanilla what?” Olson asked.
Madison walked over to help him retrieve the pod from his bowl of ingredients. After handing it to him, she returned to the front of the group.
“Cut the vanilla pod in half, add it to the saucepan, and then toss it a few times to make sure all the ingredients are incorporated. Make sure to use the right side of the measuring cups, everyone!” Madison held up a large Pyrex glass measuring cup. “Now, you just need to poach your pear in the syrup mixture. Let me show you how to do it.”
Brody and Donna worked side-by-side at the stove. As she stirred the sweet-smelling mixture in the pan, she stopped to test the flavor with a spoon. Her eyes closed and she sighed with pleasure. She dipped in for a second spoonful.
“If you don’t stop that, there won’t be enough syrup left to make your drink,” Brody said.
“You and your rules. Don’t you want a little taste?” she asked in a sultry voice.
“I might want one, but I can wait until we get all the ingredients just right,” he said.
She cocked her head to one side and pursed her lips.
“Turn the heat off,” Madison said.
He wanted to turn something else off—his bear. The damn thing couldn’t stop gawking at Donna.
A few minutes later, after they’d strained the mixture through a muslin cloth, they poured it into a cocktail shaker.
“I’ve always wanted to try this,” Donna said with a grin.
As she shook the metal cylinder, she shimmied her hips from side to side like a Caribbean dancer with maracas. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
When the oven timer went off, Brody grabbed a pair of bear face-shaped potholders. As he removed the biscuits, a heavenly scent rose up on trails of steam. He practically drooled on them as he set them on a cooling rack. Donna was similarly transfixed.
“It’s a good thing it’s time to eat,” he said.
“Those look amazing. I’d love to smother them with gravy and eat the whole tray,” she said.
“A woman after my own heart.”
“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” she joked.
“It might be true. I’ll let you know if that happens,” he blurted.
Oh damn, he didn’t mean to say that at all. His heart wasn’t up for grabs to the first woman who could cook a decent batch of biscuits. He had a whole list of standards his future wife would have to meet. Not for him, but for his sister. His wife would also be responsible for taking care of her, so she’d have to be an incredible woman for him to even consider bringing her into his life.
Donna regarded him with a quizzical smile, as if she could read his thoughts. She turned away to assemble the cocktail. When she’d finished, she garnished both martini glasses with a slice of pear.
“All right everyone, eat up and enjoy,” Madison said. “Oh, wait. I forgot that I have beef stew for you too. I’ll set it on the dining room table, but feel free to eat anywhere you like.”
“Should we take our experiments outside?” he asked. “The back porch has such a spectacular view.”
“I think that’ll be a nice end to a lovely day,” she said. “Since you have your hands full, I’ll carry the drinks.”
He dropped several piping-hot biscuits onto each plate, then carried them to the dining room where he loaded them up with stew.
The temperature outside had bite, but he enjoyed the cold. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting an orange glow across the snow. It was perfect.
He chose a seat at the table and motioned for her to sit next to him. She did. She was close enough that he could feel her warmth.
“This is literally the best biscuit I’ve ever had,” she mumbled between bites.
Crumbs caught on the corners of her mouth. It took everything in his body to keep from swiping them off with his fingers.
“I still can’t believe we made it.” She sipped her cocktail. “Are you going to eat or just keep watching me eat?”
“Oh, right.” He flushed as he shoveled a huge mouthful between his lips.
They ate in comfortable silence. After he’d scraped the last bite off of the plate, he sat back and patted his belly.
“I could eat those every day,” he said.
“Me too, except my ass would be the size of a water buffalo after about a week,” she said.
“Water buffalo?” He laughed. “You’re not even close to that size.”
“I have to keep my figure bikini-ready.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on his forearm. “Don’t forget to meet me at the Jacuzzi tonight.”
A resounding roar echoed in his chest, his bear jumping at the thought of seeing her in a skimpy bikini. Every curve of her supple body would be on display. Every curve of her completely off-limits, totally not for him, body.
He swallowed loudly. Temptation jammed its wickedly sharp claws into his body, or maybe that was just his bear up to shenanigans.
Before he had a chance to turn her down, she hopped up.
“I’ll see you later,” she said.
As she walked back toward the B&B, her ass bounced, her hips swayed, and his resolve cracked like teeth on a popcorn kernel.
Chapter 3
Donna twisted from side to side while inspecting her new Dolce & Gabbana bikini. The lush watercolor-s
tyle scene depicted Portifino, an Italian fishing village. The top fit nice and snug, just the way she liked it, but she needed to adjust the bottom. It was too tight, so she untied it to let it out a bit. Satisfied with the fit, she slipped into a pair of cute strappy sandals. She’d bought them from a roadside vendor in Cabo earlier that year. They were her go-to pool shoes.
After settling a floppy blue hat on her head, she decided against it. She tossed it on the bed. It would be ridiculously out of place in a snow-covered forest.
She double checked her reflection before heading out to the hot tub. As she trudged through the snow, she realized she should have worn boots. Oh well, she’d be warm soon enough. And maybe hot if Brody decided to show up.
A few feet inside the tree line, she found the spa. It was perched on a beautifully crafted wooden deck several feet up from the ground. Steam rose up to kiss twinkling stars. The entire scene could serve as the set for a romantic film. But she wasn’t looking for romance tonight. No, she had much naughtier plans for him.
She climbed the stairs. When she reached the top, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who had hot tub plans for the evening. Carrie sat soaking in the spa. Her eyes opened, then narrowed.
“I’m using it right now,” Carrie snapped.
“I can see that, but it’s big enough for more people.” Donna held her ground, unwilling to let the grouchy woman shoo her off.
“Fine.” Carrie snapped her eyes closed.
Donna dropped a towel onto one of the lounge chairs and sighed. This wasn’t the first time she’d gotten the cold shoulder from another woman. Since the day she’d started to develop, other women had been whispering behind her back. She pretended not to notice, but it hurt. Her mom had consoled her, saying that it never paid to be a bitch to another woman. No, you save your bitchiness for your man, or so she’d said. A lot of good that did for her parents’ marriage.
She dipped a toe in the water. It was hot, but not scalding, so she walked down the steps. She sat against the side opposite Carrie. The bird-faced woman pulled at the straps of her frumpy black bathing suit. She was smaller than Donna, so she could’ve easily gotten away with wearing something cuter.
