going to finally see the dungeon I had been imagining until I began breathing in the most wonderful smells: roasted meats and vegetables, pungent onions and yeasty bread.
The hall opened into a kitchen nearly the size of the main hall. Huge hearths lined one side and massive butcher blocks and marble tables marched down the middle. Surprisingly current stoves ran along the back wall and seated at a giant workspace in front of them was Jordan.
I tried to suppress my smile but couldn’t. Again his answering smile was brilliant and my knees wobbled a little. “Oh come on, get it together,” I mumbled under my breath, still smiling. I was not some adorably klutzy girl in need of a strong man to be my hero, which was a good thing, cause I was pretty sure that was never going to happen for me anyway.
“Still in a good mood?” Jordan asked. Ash had silently disappeared.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, not able to make eye contact.
“I was worried when you left,” he said softly.
I eyed all the produce in the baskets on the countertops. “Um, yeah, sorry about that, I guess I was just having a bad day.”
“Bixby,” Jordan said, grabbing my hand. “You don’t have to be strong for me. I’m not your brother or grandma or dad. I’m just your friend. If you’re having a hard time, I want you tell me, not hide it from me.”
I blinked hard, cursing my leaky eyes. No had ever said anything like that to me, not needed me to do or be something for them since my mom had died. “Thanks. I’m fine today, really. So what’s up with meeting in the kitchen?” I grimaced at my clumsy attempt to change the conversation but Jordan gracefully played along.
“Well, I was hoping you would make me something, if that’s all right. You really seem to love cooking.” I eyed him, wondering what situation he had spied on till I remembered I had actually told him that.
“Okay, what do you want me to make?”
“No, I want you to make me one of your favorites,” he said, leaning back on the tall stool he sat in.
I looked around the kitchen, taking in the foods, the equipment available and thinking through all recipes I had memorized. “Do you have spices?” I finally asked.
He led me to them, small glass jars lined up on tiny shelves taking up an entire wall. Printed on the edge of the shelf beneath each one was the name of the spice above. I looked around again, noting apples and wooden canisters of flour and sugar. “All right, have a seat, let me work my magic.”
Jordan smiled and sat back while I gathered the apples and a sharp knife. I worked quietly, getting more nervous as the silence lengthened. Looking up I saw him watching me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“What?” I asked, exasperated. Was that only thing I was going to say today?
“Nothing, I just like watching you.” My face flushed and I peeled more furiously, almost slicing off the skin of my thumb. “Careful,” he murmured. “Do I make you nervous?”
“No,” I lied. “Don’t you have some questions you should be asking me?”
“Always.”
“Well, fire away.”
“Fire away?”
“It’s a figure of speech, it means go ahead, ask.”
He rubbed a hand over his chin before asking. “What do you do during the day?”
I looked up, surprised. “Nothing really, my life is pretty boring.”
“Indulge me.”
I sighed. “Okay, well, most days I go to school. Before I leave, I have breakfast with Grandma and make sure she has an easy lunch laid out and things to keep her occupied. She’s usually okay if I leave some laundry and magazines and turn the television to the station she likes.”
Jordan nodded. “I’m familiar with most of those things. What is your schooling like?”
I grimaced and moved on to sifting flour and sugar together. “It’s pretty much everyone my age in town heading to the same building and being stuck there for seven hours while the teachers repeat the same boring stuff over and
The hall opened into a kitchen nearly the size of the main hall. Huge hearths lined one side and massive butcher blocks and marble tables marched down the middle. Surprisingly current stoves ran along the back wall and seated at a giant workspace in front of them was Jordan.
I tried to suppress my smile but couldn’t. Again his answering smile was brilliant and my knees wobbled a little. “Oh come on, get it together,” I mumbled under my breath, still smiling. I was not some adorably klutzy girl in need of a strong man to be my hero, which was a good thing, cause I was pretty sure that was never going to happen for me anyway.
“Still in a good mood?” Jordan asked. Ash had silently disappeared.
“Yeah,” I mumbled, not able to make eye contact.
“I was worried when you left,” he said softly.
I eyed all the produce in the baskets on the countertops. “Um, yeah, sorry about that, I guess I was just having a bad day.”
“Bixby,” Jordan said, grabbing my hand. “You don’t have to be strong for me. I’m not your brother or grandma or dad. I’m just your friend. If you’re having a hard time, I want you tell me, not hide it from me.”
I blinked hard, cursing my leaky eyes. No had ever said anything like that to me, not needed me to do or be something for them since my mom had died. “Thanks. I’m fine today, really. So what’s up with meeting in the kitchen?” I grimaced at my clumsy attempt to change the conversation but Jordan gracefully played along.
“Well, I was hoping you would make me something, if that’s all right. You really seem to love cooking.” I eyed him, wondering what situation he had spied on till I remembered I had actually told him that.
“Okay, what do you want me to make?”
“No, I want you to make me one of your favorites,” he said, leaning back on the tall stool he sat in.
I looked around the kitchen, taking in the foods, the equipment available and thinking through all recipes I had memorized. “Do you have spices?” I finally asked.
He led me to them, small glass jars lined up on tiny shelves taking up an entire wall. Printed on the edge of the shelf beneath each one was the name of the spice above. I looked around again, noting apples and wooden canisters of flour and sugar. “All right, have a seat, let me work my magic.”
Jordan smiled and sat back while I gathered the apples and a sharp knife. I worked quietly, getting more nervous as the silence lengthened. Looking up I saw him watching me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
“What?” I asked, exasperated. Was that only thing I was going to say today?
“Nothing, I just like watching you.” My face flushed and I peeled more furiously, almost slicing off the skin of my thumb. “Careful,” he murmured. “Do I make you nervous?”
“No,” I lied. “Don’t you have some questions you should be asking me?”
“Always.”
“Well, fire away.”
“Fire away?”
“It’s a figure of speech, it means go ahead, ask.”
He rubbed a hand over his chin before asking. “What do you do during the day?”
I looked up, surprised. “Nothing really, my life is pretty boring.”
“Indulge me.”
I sighed. “Okay, well, most days I go to school. Before I leave, I have breakfast with Grandma and make sure she has an easy lunch laid out and things to keep her occupied. She’s usually okay if I leave some laundry and magazines and turn the television to the station she likes.”
Jordan nodded. “I’m familiar with most of those things. What is your schooling like?”
I grimaced and moved on to sifting flour and sugar together. “It’s pretty much everyone my age in town heading to the same building and being stuck there for seven hours while the teachers repeat the same boring stuff over and
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