Joy and Tiers (12 page)

As I gaze into her crystal blue eyes, I murmur, “You are simply stunning, Gidget. I think I would eat anything in your whole damn kitchen for the pleasure of doing this—”

It is at that point, I make the riskiest move I’ve made all night. I went into the evening thinking the scariest thing I was going to do all night was eat pasta. But, this is by far the most heart-pounding thing I’ve done. Our relationship runs so hot and cold that it’s hard for me to tell how Heather feels about me. Sometimes, I could swear that she thinks I’m her worst enemy. Other times, I think she’s really into me. So, this move is going to be the ultimate litmus test. Unfortunately, it’s also going to be one from which I can’t gracefully retreat if it doesn’t go well. It’s an all or nothing move for me. After this, all my cards are on the table. My intentions are going to be very clear. It seems rather counterproductive after she’s just told me that I need to tone it down, but I feel like I need to make a bold statement. 

Slowly, I lean in and kiss her gently on the lips. Since this is our first kiss, I try to be a gentleman and show some proper restraint. But, her reaction makes it difficult. As I kiss her, her long lashes drift shut, and she gasps lightly. When we pull apart, I can feel soft puffs of breath on my neck, and I can see her pulse beating quickly near her collar bone.

“Wow, Cowboy. You sure can make a girl swoon,” Heather comments, as she catches her breath. “I can see how this could get addicting. If that’s the reward, I might have to keep cooking. Are you ready for dessert?”

“That’s funny” I tease, “I think I just had dessert.”

Heather groans.

“No, it’s true. You’re totally sweet and completely addicting. I want more and more of you. It sounds like you have all of the prerequisites of really good dessert,” I comment.

“Oh you’re so good. A girl could just melt.” Heather concedes. “You might have a point. But, in this case, I did make dessert. I believe you’ll think it’s totally scrumptious.”

“Okay cool. I like dessert in any form,” I reply as I lick my lips in anticipation. 

Heather leaves to go into the kitchen again. I admire the view as she walks away, gently swaying her hips. 

When she returns, she is carrying a tray of artfully designed tarts. Immediately, I recognize chocolate and almonds. I breathe a sigh of relief at the familiar ingredients. I can deal with these. But, then I spot the shells. My stomach tightens I remember facing these little suckers down as a kid in my mom’s version of mac-n-cheese. The memory isn’t a pleasant one. I take a deep breath and try to keep my thoughts focused on the here and now. This lovely creation is not the nightmare concoction from my past. It’s very likely to be a delightful morsel just like everything else I have tried today. I swallow hard and reach to pick one up.

Heather reaches out to stop me as she lifts one toward my mouth, “Please allow me,” she offers.

Gingerly, I take a bite. Heather swipes my bottom lip with her thumb. The unexpected contact makes me jump.

She winks and grins as she shows me the trace of brown on her thumb. “Sorry, you had a bit of cocoa powder on your mouth,” she explains.

“Darlin’, you can touch me anywhere, any place, any time you please,” I quip.

Heather blushes and pulls her hand away. “You may need to work on your ‘toning it down’ skills a bit,” she instructs.

“I understand what you mean. I am just choosing to disregard your instructions because they don’t fit my overall objective. In this situation, I think my approach is going to work best,” I advise.

“Oh my
word
, Tyler!” Heather exclaims. “I can see why you were getting the Encyclopedia of Brush-Off Lines from women. You’re just choosing to be tone deaf.”

“I am not,” I argue defensively. “I just think you need something different from me.”

“It’s amazing you don’t get crushed under the weight of that ego you’re carrying around,” Heather remarks with a smirk.

I flash her my most winning smile as I say, “Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk here. I’m a pretty confident guy by nature. Once I set a course of action, I rarely second-guess my decision. I can admit that you totally proved me wrong about the pasta stuff. It’s hard for a guy like me to admit that I’ve been wrong my whole entire life. I enjoyed the lasagna. Who would’ve thought you could have converted a person like me into a pasta lover?”

 Abruptly, Heather breaks out into peals of laughter. When she finally stops, I raise my eyebrow in question. As soon as she catches her breath and can talk, she finally wheezes out, “Boy, have I got a surprise for you.”

Trepidation fills me as I look at the expression on her face. “What are you not telling me?” I ask.

“Cowboy, you ate a form of pasta in every course tonight. Well, technically not every course because risotto is rice, but it’s a close cousin.”

To say I’m stunned is an understatement. I had an idea about some of it because I saw the pasta shells in the dessert, but she did a great job of disguising the rest of it. “Seriously?” I probe incredulously. “Even in that Asian thing-a-ma-bob?”

Heather answers with a wide grin, “Yep. That was a chicken wonton. A wonton wrapper is a form of pasta. It was brown and crispy because I fried it.”

“Well, it was a total home run. It’s safe to say I loved it. What about the little square things?” I ask, curious now about her method of disguising pasta into unrecognizable forms.

“Those were homemade spinach and artichoke ravioli with Gorgonzola and Parmesan cheese with a marinara dipping sauce. I deep fat fried those too. Because every good chef knows most things taste better fried.”

“Without ruining any of your trade secrets, how did you make your lasagna so that it wasn’t all squishy and gross? That was always my biggest objection to pasta before. I just couldn’t get beyond the texture. But nothing you fixed me tonight had any of the sliminess I remember. That’s what I find so amazing about what you did.”

Heather blushes a little under the compliments. But, then she gives me a serious answer, “I think it’s a combination of things. This is my craft. I work hard at it. I studied hard to learn the science behind the food. There are specific methods that are critical to use that make the difference between just okay cooking and spectacular cooking. Then, there is the art of cooking which is that immeasurable part of cooking you can’t quantify. It’s what turns us into food artists. It allows us to put our personal stamps on recipes and make them our own. I don’t know; it’s difficult to explain. In the case of the lasagna, I think it’s because I rolled pasta very thin, seasoned it well and I made sure it didn’t overcook. Overcooked pasta tends to be mushy and lose its texture. Al dente means ‘to the tooth’ it’s supposed to have a little body left in it when you cook it.”

“You know, I’m starting to feel a little guilty for all the times I go out to eat and just scarf down my meal without even considering all the work that goes into the meal. Or, even worse the times that my mom made an elaborate dinner and I just blew her off to go hang out with my friends or something,” I confess.

Heather runs her fingertips over my brow as she instructs, “Cowboy, don’t look so sad. I felt the same way when I started culinary school. It’s easy to overlook the people who work behind the scenes. I can tell you I’m a much better tipper than I was before I started this whole journey even though I’m much poorer now. My empathy factor has gone off the charts.”

“What do you mean you’re much poorer now?” I ask, still confused about her complex background. I’ve tried asking Jeff about her history, but he was pretty circumspect, telling me if I wanted to know anything, I would have to ask Heather directly. I was pretty surprised by his approach because usually he’s pretty free with information if I like someone. I figured it probably has to do with the fact that Heather is one of Kiera’s best friends, and Jeff didn’t want to get stuck in the middle.

“Oh, it’s just one of my dad’s little quirks. He didn’t think culinary school was worthy of the LaBianca name. So, after I withdrew from business school, he cut me off. I’ve had to pursue this dream on my own. I guess in many ways, I’m grateful for this because I get to take complete ownership of everything that happens to me from here on out. So, if one day I get to open a restaurant or a bakery then my dad won’t have any say in it.” Heather explains. But, the look on her face is so profoundly sad that I’m not even quite sure what to say. My parents have never been well off, but they’ve always been supportive of whatever I wanted to do no matter how hare-brained or stupid my plans have turned out to be. They were profoundly disappointed in me when I destroyed my chance at my college scholarship by being repeatedly busted for underage drinking. But even then, I knew if the chips were down, they would be behind me. I can’t imagine what it would feel like if I knew I couldn’t count on my parents.

“Gidget, after what I saw tonight I have no doubt that someday you will make it huge in the food industry. I don’t know if you’ll have some big-name restaurant or a show on the Food Network but in some capacity you’re going to be huge. I just know it. I hope you know it too,” I reply. Somehow, it’s become important to me that Heather knows that I believe in her dreams.

Heather sighs as she admits, “Today was the most fun I’ve had cooking in a long time. No one has challenged me in a while. I like to cook for the simple joy of cooking. But, it’s also nice to be recognized for being good at what you do.” Heather starts to clear the table. She seems surprised when I stand to help.

“Heather, you are more than just good, you’re amazing,” I remark.

“Thanks, I just wish that my family could recognize that I am as good at this as they are in the business world. It’s just a different arena. Just because it’s different doesn’t mean it’s inferior. I can’t seem to get my father to understand. My dad thinks because it’s not a 9 to 5 job, somehow it doesn’t count. As much as I hate to admit it, somewhere deep inside me, the little girl who wanted to be daddy’s Little Princess still wants to get his seal of approval. So, as happy as working in this field makes me, I know I’ll probably never be completely happy because I don’t have my family’s seal of approval. How twisted is that?” Heather worries her bottom lip until all of her lipstick is gone.

Having never met her father, it may be a little early for me to make a character assessment. But seriously, who is he to decide whether her career choice is worthy of his stamp of approval? Has he seen what some of those famous chefs make and even some of the not so famous ones? Forget that – has he even tasted the food his daughter makes? That in and of itself should be enough to convince him of her skill level. 

“Well, I think you deserve a huge reward for all you accomplished today and you did win the bet fair and square. In fact, you won it several times over. So, Gidget what have you decided to name as your prize?” I ask, waiting with great anticipation to see what she might collect from me.

“Remember, I told you that even though I wasn’t eating, we were going to play this game as if I were? I still owe you some kisses,” I inform Ty as he lounges in the kitchen chair trying his best to look casual. He reminds me of Mindy when I tell her I have a surprise for her but she has to wait until later to find out what it is. The look of shock on his face is priceless.

“Umm, okay. I can certainly handle that. But are you sure that’s what you want your prize to be?” he asks, the confusion clear on his face. He almost needs a thought bubble above his head like a cartoon.

“Relax Cowboy. I’m not going to ravish you right here in my kitchen. I’m just squaring stuff up with our bet so everything is even-steven.”

Ty grins at me with a lascivious grin as he challenges, “Oh, by all means feel free to ravish away.”

“I don’t know if I’ll go quite that far, but I would like to give you a few well-deserved kisses for all of those wonderful compliments you’ve been handing out like Christmas candy. You sure know how to make a girl feel great,” I respond. Now, the challenge is how to accomplish my idea. The logistics are tricky. Ty is a huge mountain of a guy. It’s not as if I can just climb him to get to those amazing addictive lips, and I’m far too big to cuddle on his lap.

Ty must’ve noticed my look of consternation. He gives me a crooked smile and sits up straighter in his chair. He plants his feet further apart and spreads his knees making a place for me to stand. Drawing me closer to him, he murmurs, “Co’mre and make yourself comfortable, Darlin’. No need to strain that gorgeous neck of yours.”

I step into the opening, feeling self-conscious about my size. I wonder if Ty will notice how wide my hips are compared to his muscular thighs. As this script of self-doubt is running through my head, I look over at Tyler and notice him looking at me with an expression of pure lust and desire. The intellectual side of me kicks in and tells me I should feel objectified and cheapened, but then my inner goddess tells it to shut up and bask in the inherent complement present in the sizzling look.

The intensity of his gaze makes me squirm. To be quite honest, I’m really not used to anyone thinking I’m particularly sexy. A few people have said that I am pretty. But, most people qualify their complement with the caveat that I would be prettier if I lost some weight. So, before I lose my nerve, I carefully place a kiss directly on his lips. As far as moves go, this is pretty bold for me. For a man with such hard edges, his lips are remarkably soft and responsive. He smells fresh, like laundry that’s been hung outside to dry. He shifts his head and changes the pressure on my lips. The change is minute, but it seems to hit a pressure point for me. Unbidden, a moan escapes from me. I’m startled by the noise.