Forever's Embrace (Forever In Luck Series Book 2) by J. Darling Page B

she
answered in a whisper, as she looked down at her hands. She wanted to crawl
under the table and hide. They began to dish up, and she wanted to tell them to
stop. “You, ah, don’t need to eat anything you don’t like. It won’t hurt my
feelings,” she offered.
    If
they’d heard her, she didn’t know. Jake dished her up, as bowls and plates went
around the table. Taking her fork, she quickly tested everything. It tasted
fine to her, thank God. Why were they acting so weird? She better change her
plans for the dinner menu. After taking a few bites, throats were being
cleared, and she heard a strangled scream from Nik.
    “STOP!
Don’t eat it,” she said, with alarm. “I should’ve cooked it the way you’re used
to it being cooked.”
    “Are
you nuts?” Nik responded, looking at her like she’d lost her mind. “This tastes
so damn good, I plan to lick my plate when I’m done!” Then he grabbed the eggs
and put more on his plate, and they all began passing the dishes around again
in a bid to get more.
    She
fell back in her chair with a stuttering breath, her heart pounding like a
jackhammer. She felt like she’d just run a marathon. Her hand trembled as she
reached for her fork. Jake slid his hand over and gave her knee a squeeze.
There was that overwhelming urge to hide in the bend of his neck again, and
darned if she didn’t almost do it.
    “Jules,
I agree with Nik, this tastes fantastic,” Karl said, between bites. “Tell us a
little about what we’re eating.”
    Setting
her fork down because it felt like it weighed fifty pounds, she explained,
“The, ah, potato galette is French inspired. You need clarified butter in order
to cook it at higher temperatures, in an effort to get a crispy outside and
tender middle without burning it. I added a touch of thyme and rosemary for
flavor and appeal commensurate with the apple and onion. The scrambled eggs are
also French inspired, made with fresh cream and unsalted butter, then flavored
with fresh herbs at the end. The lussekatter are a Swedish pastry, and a
tradition at Christmas time. I stopped by the bakery yesterday before leaving
Chicago, and picked some up. I make them with Kesella. The sausages are
breakfast sausage Linnie bought and I cooked.
    After
licking his fork, Nik asked, “How’d you learn to cook like this?”
    “The
all girl’s school I attended taught culinary arts, and Nana taught me in the
Swedish tradition. As I enjoy cooking, I’ve taken more cooking classes as time
has allowed. I just haven’t had much need to cook, so I’m a little unsure.”
    Reaching
for another lussekatter, Jake’s dad asked, “What’s Kesella?”
    “It’s
kind of like a cross between cream cheese, cottage cheese, and yogurt. You
can’t get it in the States because it’s a raw milk product, but I’ve played
around with the pasteurized stuff, and have come up with a near similar
substitute. In Swedish, Kesella stands for curd cream, but it’s more popularly
known as Quark throughout Europe.” Okay, they were all staring openly at her
like she’d sprouted horns and a tail. She needed to shut up, they were the
dairy experts, not her.
    Jake
cleared his throat. “You said you stopped at the bakery and picked up the
rolls, then you said you make them with Kesella. So, which is it? Did you get
them at the bakery, or did you make them?”
    She
smiled and looked down at her hands. “Both.”
    “What?!
I thought you said you used to work there?”
    “I
did, when I was in high school. Now, I just go back and help make some of the
more traditional baked goods popular at Christmas and the Midsummer holiday,
when the bakery’s at its busiest.”
    Jake
looked at her in stunned disbelief as the rest of them chuckled.
    “What?”
she said, looking back at him, “I told you I liked to cook.” Turning away from
her, she watched as his jaw clenched.
    Gathering
another bite, he spoke, his words strained, “Linnie told us you were making supper
tonight. Do