In Good Company: Chapter 26

“Okay, just like that,” Lucy says softly from my side. She leans over the counter, watching me closely as I grate parmesan onto the platter in front of me.

“Is that enough, or should I add more?” I ask, loving how natural it feels to be in the kitchen with her. I’ve never been particularly interested in cooking. I’m all about being efficient. It’s always made sense for me to hire someone to prepare meals for me so I can focus on work. But being in the kitchen with her tonight and learning from her has turned out to be a better time than I expected.

“Personally, I love the way fresh parmesan elevates breadcrumbs, so I’d say you can do more.”

I nod, doing exactly as I’m told. She stands by my side, using a spoon every now and then to mix the breadcrumb mixture around.

“Next, we’re going to take our pounded chicken breasts, dip them in egg, and then we’re going to coat them in the breadcrumbs.” Lucy looks at me as she explains what we’re going to do, but at the end, she gives the camera a shy smile.

I can’t help but smile too. It’s obvious the further we get into this lesson, the more comfortable she becomes speaking in front of the camera.

“Got it,” I respond, watching carefully as she shows me exactly what to do.

“And once it’s nice and coated, we’re going to place it on our lined pan before repeating with the rest of the chicken.” It’s quiet as she lets me take over coating the chicken breasts in the egg wash and breadcrumbs. I don’t miss that with each minute that passes by, her shoulders loosen little by little.

It struck something deep inside me to see the concern written all over her face when she got the call from her mom. I’m not sure what happened, and it was obvious Lucy didn’t want to tell me either.

However, whatever it was, it worried Lucy…which means it worried me. From the moment she took the phone call, I’ve wanted to ask what was wrong, but I’ve kept myself from doing so.

If Lucy wanted to tell me, she would. And for some reason, it’s bothering me that I’m not someone she trusts enough to confide in, even though it makes sense why she wouldn’t. We haven’t talked about a lot of personal things. What goes on in her personal or family life shouldn’t be my business.

But I want it to be my business. I just don’t have the nerve to tell her that yet because I don’t want her to tell me no.

“Those look perfect,” Lucy compliments as I finish putting fresh basil leaves atop the slices of mozzarella she had me place between each piece of chicken.

“Only because I have an amazing teacher.” I fold my arms across my chest, basking in the warmth that comes from her smile.

“Chicken parmesan is pretty simple,” she mumbles, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear as she focuses on the ground for a moment.

“Maybe some of the best recipes are simple but delicious.”

It seems like she’s forgotten all about her phone, which is still recording, by the way her entire face lights up at my words. “Simple but delicious. I like that. That’s what I want my recipes to be.”

I cock my head in the direction of the pan of food we need to put into the oven. “It seems like that’s what they’ll be. My stomach is already growling thinking about eating this meal.”

She rolls her eyes before sliding the pan off the counter. Carefully, she walks it to the large oven range. “The trick to the perfect chicken parm is to make sure your oven is hot. You don’t want to overcook the chicken, but you want the cheese to get nice and melted and the crust of the chicken to be crispy. A hot oven is key.”

I nod. I probably won’t ever be making this dish again, but she doesn’t need to know that. Maybe I will one day just to reminisce about making it with her. I’ll remember the way she smiled at me when I followed her directions correctly. Or the way she blushed when my arm would brush against hers.

I won’t forget any of it.

Lucy slides the pan into the oven and quickly shuts the door. Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, the rest of the kitchen fades away. I see nothing but her as she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth to fight a smile.

“I think it’s going well,” she whispers, her cheeks getting pinker by the second.

Fuck. I love the way she blushes so easily.

I’d love to see what other parts of her body flush because of me.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, trying not to think of her like that right now. I need to keep my thoughts under control. If I don’t, I’ll do something stupid like lift her onto the counter and make out with her again. Except this time, there’s no one here to catch or stop us.

“It’s going better than well,” I tell her. “Since the moment we started, you’d never know you don’t like being recorded. You’ve done amazing guiding me—and your future audience—through the recipe.”

She walks from the oven to me. Her palm finds the countertop as she rests some of her weight against it. “Well, you’re not done with your lesson quite yet. I’ve still got some things to teach you…if you’re okay with that.”

I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry. Thoughts run through my mind like a damn freight train of all the things I’d love to teach her. None of them have anything to do with cooking, making them inappropriate at this moment.

“I’m here as long as you want. Use me however you need.” My words come out more and more rough with each one that leaves my mouth.

I turn away from her, having to adjust myself for a moment at the mental picture of ways she could use me. “Would you like some wine before we start the next part?” I rush to get my words out, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

I thought it’d be easier for me to push my burning attraction to her aside. I didn’t think it’d be too difficult to be a good student and pretend that the taste of her lips didn’t haunt my thoughts all weekend. But it’s harder than I thought it’d be. Maybe a few minutes away while I pick out a bottle of wine will help me get my thoughts straight.

“Everything okay?” Lucy asks from behind me, not answering my question. I keep my back to her as I take a deep breath to stifle my desire for her.

“Yes,” I answer hoarsely. “Just thought it’d be the perfect time for a glass of wine.”

I can’t see her reaction to my words. But I can hear her deep breath. “Wine would be perfect. Whatever you think will pair well with the chicken parmesan and fresh spaghetti.”

I nod, hoping she can see it even with my back to her. “I’ll be right back,” I respond, rushing away to give myself a moment to compose myself.

As I fuss over what bottle of wine will pair perfectly with this meal, I come to the terrifying realization that I don’t just want Lucy at this point. I need her. I’m desperate for more.

More of the press of her lips against mine.

More of seeing a blush creep across her cheeks.

More of getting to know her.

More of her soft giggles.

Or more of her letting me inside that beautiful mind of hers.

I’m intrigued by everything she does, dying to know whatever she’ll share with me. Now, all I can hope is that maybe she’ll realize she wants the same things as me.

Maybe she’ll want more.