The Secret Ingredient (Love Around the Corner)

by Lynn Rae

  “They have everything here: antelope, elk, duck, bison, every cut of beef and pork. Even rattlesnake.” He was staring at the long glass case with the satisfaction of a jungle explorer who’d stumbled on a lost ancient city. June was just pleased he still held her hand, and she sent a desperate message to her nerve endings to not get clammy and give him any reason to let her go.

  “Do you want me to film this?”

  He shook his head. “We already got this sort of thing at Walter’s, right?”

  June agreed and tried not to lean into him as he shifted behind her to look at something else. He released her hand but then trailed his fingertips along her arm to place his palm on the small of her back as he leaned over to stare at a glistening purple-and-white octopus. She wanted to step back and press against him, have him stop looking at dead animal parts and lower his mouth to her neck as he wrapped his big arms around her from behind.

  She must have let out a squeak of frustration, because he turned away from the dead invertebrate and gave her a concerned look. “You all right? Does the octopus gross you out? I’m not getting one. I saw a nature show about how smart they are, and I haven’t eaten one since.”

  His sympathetic tone made her knees weaken. Time to straighten up, she told herself. They were here for business. “If you don’t want to record this, where should we go next? Produce?”

  She’d caught a glance of that section, and it seemed to be teeming with bright colors and lots of textures that would make for a great segment on the audition. Nate glanced at the meat counter with a thoughtful frown.

  “How about we do something else?” Nate moved his hand away from her back, which left her cold. “We could just shop. Pick up some stuff, and I’ll make you dinner.”

  June recalibrated. Not film, just spend time together. She closed her mouth and drew a blank.

  “I want to thank you for your help,” Nate spoke up quickly. “It’s not like it’s a date or something.”

  The tiny sprout of hope she’d had withered, and she forced a smile. “Sure. Okay. I understand.”

  Nate’s eyebrows crinkled together, and he opened his mouth to speak but stopped when one of the meat cutters came up to offer assistance. As he and Nate discussed cuts and cooking techniques, June retreated to her thoughts. She was stupid to have thought he’d want to socialize with her like that. Just be grateful for the company and the upcoming dinner, which was sure to be delicious, she advised herself. She didn’t have time to nurture a new relationship anyway, not with Grandma moving, Simon whirling out of control, and school starting soon.

  Nate and the man behind the counter tried to get her involved in selecting a protein, but she couldn’t muster enthusiasm. They finally decided on lamb chops, which Nate claimed he needed more practice with, and a small portion of bison for some sort of appetizer he’d concocted on the spot.

  Once the paper-wrapped packages were safely stowed in the cart, Nate took off along the refrigerated coolers holding prepared meats. He looked unbearably domestic pushing the cart and asking her what she thought of different items. Thick-cut, smoked bacon joined the meats, and then they were in the cheeses.

  Nate greeted the woman behind the counter, and she was handing over slivers of every sort of cheese under the sun. All the creamy and smelly richness had June’s mind off her melancholy, and she was laughing at Nate’s funny descriptions of how different samples tasted. The more Nate joked, the more cheese the woman behind the counter gave them. She also made suggestions for crackers, fruits, and wines. They ended up with several different chunks in the cart, and as they left, the cheesemonger gave Nate a lingering look.

  “I think she likes you,” June ventured. If she was just going to be his friend, it was her duty to point these things out to him.

  “What?” Nate cast a startled glance behind them and waved feebly at the woman watching him go despite the efforts of an older couple trying to get her attention and some cheese. “No she doesn’t. She just likes that we like cheese.”

  June frowned. Could he be that oblivious? “What I liked had nothing to do with it. She would have been happy to have you come over to her place for fondue and drink that gewürztraminer she was going on about.”

  They were passing the dairy aisle, and Nate snagged a half gallon of organic whole milk and a carton of cream.

  “I’m not going to fondue anything with her.”

  “Okay, just wondering if you noticed.”

  “Noticed what?” Nate stopped pushing the cart in front of the cereal aisle and stared at her.

  “She was flirting.” The more June explained, the stupider she felt.

  “I wasn’t flirting back.”

  She sighed. “You sort of were. I guess you can’t help it.”

  “I wasn’t flirting. Why would I?”

  “Right. You don’t even notice when you do it.” Of course the man flirted; he was a walking trigger for a heterosexual woman’s reproductive urges. His quick laugh, undivided attention, and little touches were heavy duty flirt maneuvers.

  “Are we fighting about this?”

  “I guess.”

  Nate sighed loudly and looked up at the beams and spotlights high overhead. “I don’t want to fight about this.”

  “Then we aren’t fighting about this.” June’s buzzing irritation with him, that woman’s pining look, the whole situation made her edgy and unhappy. The last thing she wanted to do was provoke a disagreement. She’d learned long ago how to get along and avoid confrontation, and the fact that a nice woman giving away cheese made her this snappish wasn’t a good sign.

  “You turn it off just like that?” Nate sounded skeptical as he should.

  June didn’t trust herself to reply since her throat was tight with repressed distress, so she just nodded.

  “You’re mad. About what, I’m not sure. Tell me when you’re ready.” Nate glanced around them. “I’ve got an idea. How about we go through as much of the store as we can in five minutes, you pick out five ingredients for me, and I have to make something with them.”

  The off-the-wall suggestion knocked June right out of her bad mood, and she gaped at him. “Are you kidding?”

  “Come on, I do it every time I come here. It’s fun. It’ll be better to have someone else picking stuff out, so it’s even more random.”

  “You know, they could have something like this on the show.” June was warming to the idea and as she smiled, Nate grinned back. “Who keeps track of the time?”

  “I will, and I’ll push the cart. You just shop. Be mean.”

  “I don’t know where everything is.” This was her first time here and the square footage and variety of products was overwhelming. She’d already spotted a sushi setup, brick pizza oven, and a stir-fry station next to a salad bar, and they hadn’t even walked through half the store.

  Nate’s eyes sparkled and that dimple came out to play. “I told you, be mean. Pick the toughest things you can find.”

  “What are the stakes?” She couldn’t resist asking, and the memory of the last time they’d played a game made her mouth tremble.

  “If I can make a dish you like, I win.”

  “And if it’s gross?”

  “It won’t be gross.” Nate was in his element, and his confident attitude chased away the rest of her unhappiness. “But, if you don’t like it, no matter how unlikely that is, I have to, ah…”

  Nate trailed off, at a loss for a proper punishment. June was inspired. “You have to do whatever I say for an hour.”

  He blinked, and June wondered at her sass.

  “You’ll put me down on your calendar? What color would my section be?”

  She wanted to say red. “Pink.”

  He stuck out his hand, and she shook it as hard as she dared. “I was green before.”

  “That was work. This will be…not work.”

  “I’m relieved to hear it. I was thinking you were going to have me dig a ditch or something.”

  In truth, June’
s mind was a blank when it came to what task she might assign Nate if he lost the challenge. It seemed highly unlikely since everything he’d cooked for her had been delicious. But the idea of him under her command for an hour was an alluring prospect, and she felt the resolve to confound him rise up in a wave. He must have picked up on her spirit, because he let go of her hand and looked at his watch. At his nod, she took off, heading straight for produce.

  When she arrived among the designer wood crates, all sorts of strange plants confronted her. A display of early season corn on the cob caught her eye, and she grabbed six ears and slid them into a plastic bag as she kept moving, bypassing leafy greens for racks of bright peppers. Jalapeño, poblano, Anaheim, which to choose? Peppadew looked good, so she grabbed a handful and tossed both bags at Nate as she scooted out of produce for the center of the store. She didn’t want meat; there was already so much of it in the cart. He could combine the corn and pepper in a savory dish far too easily. Sweet, that’s what she needed.

  Turning down the baking aisle, she grabbed a can of condensed milk and dropped it in the cart. Nate groaned.

  “That’s mean.”

  “No commentary until I’m done.” Three items down, and to add insult to injury, she dropped a bottle of agave next to the milk. Nate winced but kept his mouth closed as he followed her back toward the dairy section. She avoided the cheese area by making a large circle around an olive bar and briefly contemplated scooping up some marinated artichoke hearts for the dish but decided she’d rather not taste anything with those flavors combined, no matter how skillfully Nate would do it. When she picked up the spoon and gave Nate a speculative look, he clutched at his chest. Unable to put up a front any longer, she laughed and walked away, secure in the knowledge he’d follow along.

  Scanning the refrigerated items, she picked up and dismissed silken tofu, tempeh, and soy bacon. Another few steps brought her to soft cheeses, and on impulse, she picked up a tub of ricotta and wedged it into the cart.

  Nate checked his watch. “It only took you three and a half minutes to ruin my chances.”

  Chapter 9

  His stomach hurt and Nate didn’t think it was because he’d eaten too much. As the dinner with June progressed through the bison samosas with curry-ranch dip, roasted-beet-and-blood-orange salad, and close-to-perfect lamb chops with a too-vinegary tapenade garnish, he felt like he’d been punched in the gut. It couldn’t be food poisoning since June seemed perfectly healthy as she ate, smiled, and gazed at him with those butterscotch eyes that made him forget what he’d said to make her laugh.

  Now it was time to try his five-ingredient challenge, and the thought of eating it made his palms itchy. It would be awful, and then he’d owe her an hour of his life. As much as he’d hoped she’d want something from him involving lots of exposed skin and full-body contact, he had a feeling she’d ask him to wash her car or move some furniture instead.

  “I’m ready,” June announced as she stood up from the table and gathered their plates. He rose and followed her into his small kitchen, reaching to help as she rinsed and loaded them in his dishwasher. This meant he was close by her side, and he was embarrassed by how much he enjoyed those fleeting moments of contact with her.

  He’d wanted to kiss her again the moment his lips had left hers in that damned little bathroom, but somehow, he couldn’t work up the courage. Every time he thought about leaning her way when they’d been shopping or riding in the truck, she’d turn her head to look at something else, and he’d draw back like a gawky seventh grader at his first dance. He’d never waited this long to kiss anyone.

  He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him.

  “So, what did you make?” She looked up at him, anticipation clear on her features, and he wanted to cup his hands around her cheeks and sink into her mouth.

  “Uh, it’s a dessert.” He sounded like the moron he clearly was, because he couldn’t even bring himself to touch her.

  “I can’t wait. Can I help?”

  Nate shook his head and urged her to go back to her seat; her close presence was making him confused. He pulled out a couple of small bowls and a scoop before grabbing the container of frozen dessert. He hoped it had set up in time. The golden ice cream rolled up perfectly, little bits of sweet corn emerging in each scoop. Remembering the topping, he gathered up the Peppadew-agave syrup and ladled a generous portion on each serving. The red peppers stood out nicely against the yellow frozen cream.

  Before turning around, he took a deep breath and told himself to relax. Ever since he’d remarked this wasn’t a date, his confidence had taken a nosedive. When he turned around, June glanced up at him with another smile and seeing her at his secondhand table, her hands neatly folded on the patched tablecloth he’d found in the back of a drawer made him dizzy. He liked having her here.

  What was he thinking? She was educated, funny, well-mannered, and not at all the right fit for a line cook with no future other than cooking another thousand dozen eggs in the next few years. Feed her, be nice, and forget it.

  “Are you going to describe this to me? I think you should.” June spread her hands apart and stared into the bowl.

  “It’s, ah, ricotta sweet-corn ice cream with a candied-Peppadew topping.” That didn’t sound too bad. Nate took his seat opposite her and waited for her to sample the concoction. He shouldn’t have added so much condensed milk to the mixture, or should have upped the corn. It was going to be a disaster.

  A lopsided smile quirked across her lips, and June spooned up a generous portion and held it in front of her mouth as she looked at him.

  “Am I going at it alone here?”

  As he denied it, he hastily scooped up a taste and ate it, hardly aware of the sweet, rich flavor as he watched June savor her bite. She closed her eyes as her pink lips moved slightly, and as she swallowed, a prickle of heat rose in his lower belly. Damn it all to hell and back. She made a satisfied little sound, and the muscles in his back tightened involuntarily. He wanted to be touching her when she made a sound like that.

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and she shook her head as she ate another bite, every movement slow and deliberate. He wanted to ask her what she thought, but the words were frozen in his mouth along with the sticky sweetness of the dessert.

  “This is…how can I describe it?” June slurred her words as she licked up another bite, and Nate clenched his fingers so hard on his spoon he figured he’d bent it.

  “That bad, huh?” Nate had no idea. For the first time in his life his taste buds had deserted him.

  “It’s so strange and delicious. How did you even think of it? I mean, it’s supersweet, and normally I don’t like sweet, but with the nuttiness of the corn I can’t even figure out the balance.” June furrowed her brow and stared at her bowl as she gathered up another taste. “And what you did to these peppers is amazing. The little pop of heat they add is just perfect.”

  She licked her lips and stared at him, and Nate’s peripheral vision clouded up, leaving him with only her in his world.

  “You have to make this on the show. You’ll win and some big restaurant out there will snatch you up, and you’ll live on the beach and wear sunglasses all the time.”

  By the time she’d reached the end of her spiel, her pleased expression had disappeared. She put down her spoon, cleared her throat, and glanced over his shoulder. “Sorry. I got a little carried away there.”

  “I don’t plan on moving to California.” He didn’t have enough money in his bank account to pay for a moving van, let alone first and last month’s rent on someplace out there.

  “Then why do you want to be on this show?”

  Nate paused, and June waited patiently for his answer. It was hard to explain it out loud when he hadn’t really figured it out for himself. “At first, it was like a dare between me and my sister. But when I kept getting these e-mails that I was still in the running, I thought about it more, and I guess what’s keeping me interested is that I want to prove to myse
lf I have some talent at this stuff.”

  June nodded and took a sip of water.

  “I mean, here in Palmer, there aren’t a whole lot of comparisons. It’s the diner, the drive-through, or the Grille. I want to find out how I stack up against real chefs, real innovators.” Nate pushed back from the table and sighed. “I’ll go down in flames, but at least I’ll know. It won’t all be in my head.”

  June frowned and then rose and pulled her chair around the table to sit next to him. As she sank down, her knees pressed against his thigh and all his ambitious thoughts morphed into thinking about her body again.

  “Why would you say that?”

  Nate shrugged and looked at the ice cream melting in his bowl. He felt a light touch on his arm and glanced over at June to see she was peering at him with worry in her eyes.

  “You’re very talented at this. You don’t have to go to school to be good at something.”

  “Do you tell the kids at the elementary school that when they fail a test?”

  “All the time.” Her sincerity was clear, and with a tug in his heart, he could picture it. June was exactly the sort of person who would make every effort to encourage a struggling child but not give an inch on her expectations. Of course kids went to her when they were troubled, he wanted to have her tell him all sorts of soothing things. Later.

  “Do they believe it?”

  “They better. I mean every word of it, just like I do with you.”

  Nate couldn’t help but smile at her determination. June grinned, and he jumped when she slid her fingers over the back of his hand and squeezed his palm. She’s just being nice.

  She glanced away and looked at his hand, turning it so she could inspect that day’s damage. The slight touch of her fingertips along his knuckles made him twitch.

  “You’re hurt again.” Her tone was much quieter, and he couldn’t see her face as she looked down. Normally he’d draw away and claim there was nothing wrong, because he was a guy and they were just scratches, but he wanted her to touch him, so he stayed completely still. Her hand still gripping his, she looked up and stared at him. She reached for his cheek to turn his head so she could see the slight bruise from the tussle.