“We need to make the ricotta. If you could pull it out of the fridge and add one egg, I’ll finish up the sauce.”
He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, then starts adding different cans of tomatoes. I love watching the way he works in the kitchen, and I’m completely mesmerized by him.
“Wanna taste?” he offers me the mixing spoon.
“Yes!” I lean forward, my eyes magnetized to his as I try it. All I want to do is take the spoon from his hand and lick it. “This is…orgasmic.”
Tristan nearly chokes, then puts the cover on the finished meat sauce.
“Wanna grab the dough from the fridge?”
“Sure,” I say, then hand it to him. After he plops it down on the counter, he offers me the rolling pin.
“I just…” I grab each side and make a rolling motion.
He smirks. “Yep.”
I start in the middle but realize it’s too hard to squish, so I move to the edges. Tristan patiently watches me and randomly sprinkles more flour on the counter when the dough sticks. When it’s finally flat, I stand back in amazement at what I’ve accomplished.
“I’ll let you do the honors.” He hands me a knife. “Cut them about three inches wide.”
“You’re sure about this?” I ask hesitantly.
“Yeah, just go slow and keep your fingers out of the way.”
Eventually, I have several twelve-inch-long strips. Tristan grabs a pot of water and fills with water.
“We’re boiling them?”
“Sometimes, you’re really adorable.”
“Sheltered is what you mean.”
“Or spoiled,” he adds with a laugh.
I grab some flour and throw it at him. It splatters across his shirt. Immediately, he flicks some right back at me. White dust flies all over the kitchen as we’re laughing and running from each other. He catches me and places his hands gently on my waist. We’re both dusted with white powder, and right now, I want nothing more than to feel his soft lips brush against mine.
I swallow hard, peering into his green eyes.
He clears his throat. “We should probably finish so we can get it into the oven.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, confused by the emotions swirling through me.
Carefully, I grab the strips one by one and set them in the water. We wait around in the kitchen for them to boil. Tristan reaches over and wipes flour from my face. It’s one of those moments that has my heartstrings fluttering, and I’m almost convinced he can hear it. I lick my lips, ready to say something, but he creates space before I can. Instantly, I feel the loss of his closeness, but I saw how he looked at me because I’m certain I was looking at him the same way.
“Flour is everywhere.” He laughs
Tristan guides me through the rest of the steps and finally slides the glass pan of our homemade lasagna into the oven.
“This is my favorite recipe, though it takes a bit of time.”
“I think it’s quickly become mine too,” I admit, the words falling out of my mouth. Being with him like this is a memory I’ll treasure forever.
I’m confused by what I feel for him, knowing it’s not ideal to cross the line with my bodyguard, but I can’t help the way my heart beats faster every time he’s close. Especially as I’m learning who Tristan really is.
“It reminds me of being a kid and helping my mom in the kitchen without a care in the world. It was a simpler time back then.”
“That’s great that you have fond memories and traditions like that. I can’t say I have many when it comes to my parents. Growing up, I had nannies who practically raised me as my parents controlled me with rules and expectations. Minus the nanny, and things are still the same. It helped bond Kendall and I at least.”
His expression softens. “I’m sorry. That kind of breaks my heart a little.”
I shrug. “I guess the reality is money can’t buy love, you know? You can purchase everything you want in the world, but something’s still always missing.” I let out a deep breath, realizing how much truth just came out. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t ever be sorry to share your feelings with me, Piper. Ever.”
“Thanks.”
We sit at the table, adding pieces to the puzzle until the timer buzzes.
“Oh my God, it’s ready?” I stand, excited to see the final product.
“Yep!” He grabs the oven mitts, then sets the hot pan on the stovetop. I stand next to him, looking at how the cheese bubbles on top.
“Let’s cut into it,” I say eagerly.
Tristan chuckles. “Gotta let it cool for like ten minutes. Then it’s all yours.”
“I am not a patient person.”
He glances over at me and smirks. “That’s the truth.”
I playfully elbow him, and he pretends I punched the wind out of him. We both laugh, and though I’m not sure what’s going on between us right now, I can’t say I’m disappointed.