rode high and bared his abs. No sane woman could focus on cooking with his intoxicating presence around. I knew I couldn’t.
“Most of them thought if you just throw in spices everything would naturally turn out perfect,” he continued. “And they called themselves cooks.”
“No one can meet your impossible standards, bro,” Andris called out from the other end of the counter before cutting something on his plate and putting it in his mouth. He ate with utter enjoyment. “He even had them sample what he’d cooked,” he added. Despite his belly aching, Andris loved fine food. “If they couldn’t identify at least two spices, they were out the door.”
“Mrs. Willow did,” Torin said. He dumped the entire content of a pan in the garbage. “She was the only one who understood that cooking is an art.” He scooped a piece of something and offered it to me.
Our eyes met, and the moment stretched. The air sizzled with so many emotions it hurt to breathe. If this was an olive branch, I was accepting it. Fighting with him was too emotionally draining. I opened my lips, and he placed the morsel in my mouth. Flames leaped in his sapphire blue eyes.
I wanted to close the gap between us, but my taste buds exploded. “Whoa. That’s good. Is that yours or hers?”
“Mrs. Willow’s.” Torin pointed at the fork-licking Andris. “He’s eating mine. She didn’t even blink when I told her that sometimes she’ll have to cook for twice the number of people. One woman had the nerve to ask if she’d get a bonus for cooking for more people. Another asked if we were interested in a live-in housekeeper since our “mother” was out of town indefinitely. We didn’t advertise for a live-in.”
“She was perfect,” Andris mumbled.
Torin shot him a disgusted look. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
Andris pointed at his laptop. “Researching witch stuff. After what we found out…” His eyes went to me and slid away. So they were determined to keep secrets. Great. The olive branch just broke. And I couldn’t ask Andris to get my backpack now.
I started out of the kitchen. Behind me, I could hear them argue.
“There’s plenty of time for that,” Torin said. “You’re on kitchen duty, so glove up.”
“Again? Why me? Why can’t Ingrid or Blaine do it? They’re Immortals assigned to us, not the other way round. They are the ones who should be interviewing the housekeeper and doing chores around here. Blaine raids the kitchen after the lights are off and never cleans up after himself.”
“One hour then turn off the oven, Andris.”
I felt a little sorry for Andris. Blaine had lacrosse, and Ingrid was at cheer practice. It didn’t matter that Immortals assigned to Valkyries were supposed to lend them whatever support they needed. Torin wasn’t too big on depending on other people.
He stepped into the hallway just before I entered the portal. “Where are you going?”
His place. “Home.”
He laughed, mocking me. Was I blowing this out of proportion? Surely, I’d better make sure he understood I wouldn’t take crap from him. His place was quiet. He had such a vibrant presence he tended to dominate his surroundings. Without him, his home lacked its usual appeal. Or maybe it was our fight messing with my head.
I checked the living room, then the kitchen, but my backpack wasn’t there. I peeked in the garage. Nothing. Sounds came from upstairs. Dang it, he was back. I tiptoed and searched everywhere downstairs and came up empty, which meant he had it upstairs.
Sighing, I headed his way, wracking my brains for solutions. He was going to make me beg. Try to anyway.
His door was open, and I caught him changing. He kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks, and reached for his T-shirt. I usually enjoyed watching him pull his shirt off and on. Not today. I wanted him clothed and focused on what I was about to say. He pulled off his shirt and reached for his belt.
I stopped breathing. He
“Most of them thought if you just throw in spices everything would naturally turn out perfect,” he continued. “And they called themselves cooks.”
“No one can meet your impossible standards, bro,” Andris called out from the other end of the counter before cutting something on his plate and putting it in his mouth. He ate with utter enjoyment. “He even had them sample what he’d cooked,” he added. Despite his belly aching, Andris loved fine food. “If they couldn’t identify at least two spices, they were out the door.”
“Mrs. Willow did,” Torin said. He dumped the entire content of a pan in the garbage. “She was the only one who understood that cooking is an art.” He scooped a piece of something and offered it to me.
Our eyes met, and the moment stretched. The air sizzled with so many emotions it hurt to breathe. If this was an olive branch, I was accepting it. Fighting with him was too emotionally draining. I opened my lips, and he placed the morsel in my mouth. Flames leaped in his sapphire blue eyes.
I wanted to close the gap between us, but my taste buds exploded. “Whoa. That’s good. Is that yours or hers?”
“Mrs. Willow’s.” Torin pointed at the fork-licking Andris. “He’s eating mine. She didn’t even blink when I told her that sometimes she’ll have to cook for twice the number of people. One woman had the nerve to ask if she’d get a bonus for cooking for more people. Another asked if we were interested in a live-in housekeeper since our “mother” was out of town indefinitely. We didn’t advertise for a live-in.”
“She was perfect,” Andris mumbled.
Torin shot him a disgusted look. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
Andris pointed at his laptop. “Researching witch stuff. After what we found out…” His eyes went to me and slid away. So they were determined to keep secrets. Great. The olive branch just broke. And I couldn’t ask Andris to get my backpack now.
I started out of the kitchen. Behind me, I could hear them argue.
“There’s plenty of time for that,” Torin said. “You’re on kitchen duty, so glove up.”
“Again? Why me? Why can’t Ingrid or Blaine do it? They’re Immortals assigned to us, not the other way round. They are the ones who should be interviewing the housekeeper and doing chores around here. Blaine raids the kitchen after the lights are off and never cleans up after himself.”
“One hour then turn off the oven, Andris.”
I felt a little sorry for Andris. Blaine had lacrosse, and Ingrid was at cheer practice. It didn’t matter that Immortals assigned to Valkyries were supposed to lend them whatever support they needed. Torin wasn’t too big on depending on other people.
He stepped into the hallway just before I entered the portal. “Where are you going?”
His place. “Home.”
He laughed, mocking me. Was I blowing this out of proportion? Surely, I’d better make sure he understood I wouldn’t take crap from him. His place was quiet. He had such a vibrant presence he tended to dominate his surroundings. Without him, his home lacked its usual appeal. Or maybe it was our fight messing with my head.
I checked the living room, then the kitchen, but my backpack wasn’t there. I peeked in the garage. Nothing. Sounds came from upstairs. Dang it, he was back. I tiptoed and searched everywhere downstairs and came up empty, which meant he had it upstairs.
Sighing, I headed his way, wracking my brains for solutions. He was going to make me beg. Try to anyway.
His door was open, and I caught him changing. He kicked off his shoes, toed off his socks, and reached for his T-shirt. I usually enjoyed watching him pull his shirt off and on. Not today. I wanted him clothed and focused on what I was about to say. He pulled off his shirt and reached for his belt.
I stopped breathing. He
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