Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
And like a bucket of cold water, there he went reminding her exactly what she hated about him.
****
Gabriel didn’t know why he was doing this. It had been a long time since he last cooked a meal. Growing up without anything, he’d come to learn the simple pleasures in life. Good food and always having an amazing chef on hand at any of his restaurants to cook him exactly what he wanted. He’d stopped cooking a long time ago.
However, after seeing her mother’s cookbook, he’d taken a screenshot of the Chicken Kiev recipe and had started replicating it this very afternoon. He couldn’t recall how he ended up in a supermarket, but he had, buying fresh chicken breast, salted butter, fresh garlic and herbs, as well as lemon. Not only had he bought everything to make the Chicken Kiev, he’d also gotten the sides. Her mother had made a note of the side dishes she loved to have with it. Herbed boiled potatoes was one of those, and yep, he’d scrubbed them an hour earlier, and they were in the process of steeping in the seasoned oil.
He never cooked for anyone. Gabriel couldn’t even remember the last time he used this kitchen. He was a busy man who didn’t have the time or attention for these trivial things, and yet, here he was, cooking for her. And Faith didn’t even know how to make small talk.
What the fuck was happening to him?
He shouldn’t have gone to Nigel. He didn’t care what Faith liked. All that mattered was what he liked. He liked the way she was dressed. The outfits were figure hugging, just the way he liked them.
Gabriel had intended to take her out dancing, but those plans had changed the moment he entered the fucking supermarket. The scents of garlic and lemon were incredible, though. He had to keep sneaking glances at the instructions. He’d taken the picture on his cell phone.
“The money that Nigel is costing, do you want me to start paying it back?” she asked.
He pocketed his cell phone and turned toward her. “No.”
“I’m not a whore,” she said.
“And I’m not paying you to fuck me. This is an agreement, simple as that.” He didn’t pay women to fuck.
The timer went off, and he pulled the two chicken breasts out of the oven and used the thermometer to take the reading. He couldn’t believe how well this recipe had worked. It had been a long time since he cooked for himself.
“What’s that?” Faith asked.
According to her mother, this was one of Faith’s favorite recipes. There were notes to make it exactly how Faith liked it. There were some notes for Nigel, and her husband, but this was Faith’s number one.
He served the potatoes, making sure not to mess up the plate. He did the same to his own, then added the chicken slice, followed by the simple garnish of garlic-herbed sauce he’d been making. Drizzling it on, he picked up both plates and nodded to Faith to enter his dining room.
He wasn’t nervous. He didn’t give a fuck if she liked it or not. It was food. Putting the plates down, he sat at the head of the table and forced Faith to sit beside him, within arm’s reach.
Faith sat down, pushing some of her blonde hair out of the way.
“Is this Chicken Kiev?” she asked.
He watched as her tongue came out to moisten her lip.
“Yes.”
“What made you cook this?”
“It’s been a long time since I cooked, and I fancied some of it myself.” He wasn’t about to tell her he’d spent the morning exploring her home after finishing a visit with her brother.
The time for Faith to see her brother would come, but not until Nigel was well. Her brother looked like shit. He had a feeling Faith already blamed herself for how Nigel had been acting. He didn’t want her to feel any other guilt. Nigel’s decisions were his own. Faith had done everything she could. She couldn’t take the blame for her brother’s fuckups.
Gabriel cut into his chicken and the butter spilled out, just as the instructions said it would. Everything was cooked to perfection. He took a bite, and an explosion of garlic, lemon, and herbs assailed his senses. The flavors were all there.
They were so good, his mouth watered. Holy shit. He’d never tasted anything so good in his life.
Looking up, he watched Faith as she took a bite. Her eyes closed and a moan escaped her lips. This was why he’d done it. Nigel had told him she didn’t cook anything her mother had made.
“Is it good?” Gabriel asked.
“It’s perfect.” She opened her eyes and then he saw them filling with tears.
“So perfect it’s making you cry.”
She put her knife and fork down, waving a hand in front of her face. “Ignore these. They are … my mom, whenever I had a bad day, or even a good day, to cheer me up, she would make this for me, and I always loved it.” She sniffled. “I’ve not had one of these in seven years.”