Maybe This Time — FREE
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Enjoy your summer.
An excerpt from Maybe This Time:
Eric swiped at grains of brown sugar on Kate’s cheek. “You do everything with passion, don’t you?” he whispered not wanting to interrupt the instructor and the other eight students clustered in the kitchen of a gourmet supply store. Scents of soy sauce, rosemary and lemon zest competed for the attention of his nostrils, but Kate’s perfume won that battle. When Trish suggested taking Kate to a cooking class, he thought she had lost her mind.
But Trish was a woman and should know what women like, so he gave it a shot not expecting recipes, ingredients and measuring to be this much fun. Food was the language of love. He’d have to tell Trish she’d been right. On second thought, no way. She’d never let him forget.
“My mom was a good cook,” Kate replied, continuing to stir her sauce rhythmically. “I never really bothered to learn more than how to boil an egg and make a grilled cheese sandwich. I’m surprised at how interesting all this is.”
“We do look great in our aprons, I have to admit,” Eric said. Kate looked amazing in whatever she was wearing, the cobalt blue apron made her green eyes appear bluer. He loved how whatever she wore transformed her eyes from a warm amber to a vibrant pacific blue. Sadly the apron also covered the neckline of her knit sweater. He couldn’t wait for class to end to enjoy the full effect of the clinging fabric.
Kate carefully poured the glaze over the salmon and turned to put their combined effort into the oven. “This is going to taste good.”
“Don’t forget to set your timers,” Chef Andre reminded the class, but Eric knew that prod was intended for him and Kate.
“Are you always this innovative with your dates?” Kate asked before taking a sip of wine.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we went to the fair. And now a cooking class. It’s like you googled best first dates or something.”
Eric looked away.
“You did, didn’t you.” Kate shoved his arm playfully.
Eric nodded, avoiding the glare from a forty-ish woman seated at the cooking station in front of the class. She hung on every word from Chef Andre as though learning the wonders of whisking would improve her life. Maybe they would. Seemed to be working for him. What Eric knew for certain was that the woman’s brown sugar maple glaze would turn out much better than theirs and she didn’t appreciate the chatter of young love.
He put his finger in front of his lips, and slid his gaze from the woman to Kate, signaling that they were a disruption. If they didn’t cease and desist their conversation, everyone’s cedar plank salmon would be ruined.
Woman@Heart 