Taylor stood in Evan’s kitchen with stained recipe cards that bore a sense of history and love for cooking that belonged to her mother. She looked thoughtful for a second, and I recalled the awful cookies I baked and then threw out for being more of a hockey puck than an actual cookie. I was dangerous in the kitchen.
“This is a special kind of chicken.” She was serious and I took her word for it as I nervously arranged the items on the counter. A whole pink chicken scared me, besides being creepy-looking naked without the feathers. I never cooked one before because a hotplate in a studio apartment wasn’t really five-course meal-ready. Taylor even brought her own set of measuring cups. Pretty antique-looking things that I admittedly looked at with a hungry jealously. I couldn’t even use them properly, and here I wanted yet another thing I didn’t deserve to have.
I still had my reservations. “Unless this chicken is going to get up and dance, putting on a show apologizing to him, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Remi, this is a recipe my mother swore by. She used it to get my dad to pop the question. It’s her engagement chicken.” Taylor waved off my anxiety, but I didn’t feel better.
“Uh, why would I want to make that?” Sated for the moment, I gently bobbed up and down with Ethan in my chest carrier. Something Evan picked up to make doing things easier around the house, since I could not sit still when he was home with us. Half the time Evan wore it, walking around with Ethan when he would make me sit on the couch after dinners I suspected he knew were a combination of takeout and dishes from the cupboard.
I swore the harness bands carried his scent because it was driving me crazy to smell soft snuggly baby powder and Hugo Boss cologne up my nose. It was like an elephant tranquilizer, except it got me revved up instead of knocking me out. From the bedroom doorway, I spied the cologne on Evan’s dresser. Being a glorified houseguest, I didn’t feel I had any business being in his room so I usually left his laundry folded in the basket by his door, but the occasional whiff of his cologne flipped the dead switch of my libido every time.
“Because, it’ll keep him thinking of you every time he gets hungry, and when a man associates you with his favorite food,
he can’t help but wonder what might happen if he no longer had that sustenance.” She held up what looked like little broken trees, explaining what rosemary was and how we’d stuff it inside the chicken. It smelled awesome, but the mechanics were lost on me. I would really prefer to not stuff anything up a chicken’s asshole, but she assured me this was how it was done.
“But I already live here with him.” I patted Ethan’s back and rubbed him up and down as he cooed, grabbing my shirt.
“Honey, you’re not sleeping together. Food can be like sex until you’re ready.”
“Oh.” I made the revelation slowly as she buzzed around the kitchen.
Taylor winked, showing me how to mix up the fixings to put on the chicken before I stuck the bird in the oven. Apparently, that was the whole point. She left me to chop up tomatoes for a side salad and helped me cut them up properly so I didn’t leave my cutting board looking like the usual crime scene when I was done.
“Exactly, now you hand over this gorgeous little man, get a shower, and shave your legs because you never know.” There she went with that winking thing again.
I couldn’t decide if it was weird that Taylor was as excited for me as I was. The whole idea of seducing Evan seemed foreign, and jittery nerves like a cat on a hot tin roof coursed through my body.
Fifteen minutes later, I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body when I heard the crash and cursing from the front of the house. Scared, I secured the towel around me tightly and without thinking, I ran to the kitchen, hoping everything was all right. Worry for Ethan and Taylor cooking set my heart racing. Skidding to a stop with wet feet on the tiles, I was greeted with an unexpected sight.
“Hi, sweet girl, I’m home.” Evan sat on the kitchen floor in a tangled mess with metal baking pans spilled on the floor. Ethan looked at him bug-eyed from Taylor’s arms, but he hadn’t started to cry just yet while quivering his bottom lip.
“Baby, it’s okay.” Reaching for him, I stopped when I realized that the towel was starting to slip. My roommate on the floor was looking at me with far too much interest; even if I had planned a little seduction of my own for this evening, that was quickly going downhill.
“Uhhh…let me put Ethan down for his nap, and I’ll take the chicken out. Hunter, babe, can you get Evan to umm the couch?” Taylor directed everyone like a pro. Thank goodness for wonderful friends.
“Sure thing, Taylor Jane.”
Hunter didn’t seem bothered one bit or surprised by any of the events currently happening and just lifted Evan up to his feet like he was nothing but a feather.
“Remi, you might want to get dressed.” David who had been behind Hunter stepped into the kitchen, his eyes focused on the ceiling, and I would swear he was avoiding eye contact with me. Awkward for sure.
“Right. Yes. Okay.” I jogged back to my room and threw on my best lace panties, a matching nursing bralette, leggings, and a loose shirt before putting up my wet hair in another messy bun. I definitely wasn’t a pageant winner now with sleek hair, but it would do.
“Remington!” I heard Evan clear across the house, and I was struck with curiosity over what in the world his obviously drunk ass wanted.
“Yes, dear?” My automatic reply laced with sarcasm made my cheeks blush when the onlookers gawked between us. I crossed my arms over my chest to see him sprawled out on the couch, now barefoot, and our friends looking between the both of us, snickering.
“God, you’re pretty. Come here,” he slurred, slumping back against the cushions and eyeing me up and down while reaching out with his hands in a grabby motion.
“How much did you let him drink?” Taylor asked, whipping Hunter with a dish towel.
“Babe, it wasn’t like that, I swear.” Hunter held his hands up and Taylor must have believed him because she sheathed her towel weapon. I took notes on this relationship dynamic.
“Remington, are you gonna stand there staring at me all night?” He said it with a southern drawl, mimicking me. His eyes strayed, giving me the kind of look that started at my feet and traveled up my body in a slow and meticulous way while his eyes glazed over and my body blushed uncontrollably. No one had ever looked at me like that before.
“You’re drunk,” I whispered, watching the slow grin come across his face like sunshine.
“I know. It’s your fault too.” He seemed happy at that revelation, and I had no wish to discuss this anymore in front of the audience gathered in the living room. I let my eyes roll heavenward.