As the kiss ended, Luke leaned back in and pressed his forehead against hers. For a few moments they stood like that, forehead to forehead.
“Now, let’s get down to business. Time’s a wasting,” Luke said as he pulled away.
Morgan clapped her hands together. “I like your style, Duvall. Let’s get this thing going.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I don’t have enough time to cook more quiches to replace the burnt ones, so the quiches that didn’t burn are going to be cut up into smaller portions. I’m going to make some salmon croquettes on the stove here. I’d already made up the patties for tomorrow, but now they’re on today’s menu. I can whip up a dill sauce to go with it. I’ve already set the oven for the green beans. So if you could get out a tray and put the green beans in there, then put them in the oven that would be fantastic. Then if you could check on the c
hicken stew in the crock pot, that would be a big help. All that will leave is the salad which just needs to be put into individual serving bowls. And thankfully I baked some chocolate chips cookies this morning. We can lay them out in baskets for each table.”
Despite her earlier panic, Morgan knew she had this. With a pair of extra hands to help out, she didn’t feel so out-of-sorts.
“Whatever you say,” Luke told her. “I’m your very underqualified sous-chef this afternoon. Your wish is my command.”
“Things are about to get crazy in here, but I just want to let you know I’m thankful for your help.” A sudden wave of shyness passed over her. She looked down for a moment in order to gather her thoughts. It was so much easier to think when soulful hazel eyes weren’t boring a hole straight through her. She swung her gaze back up to meet Luke’s eyes. “Truth to be told, I’m just very grateful for you in general.”
The tender, easy smile that broke out on Luke’s face quickly made its way to the very center of her soul. She needed to give back to him—in words and deeds and affection. Because even though she still hadn’t gathered the courage to tell him that she loved him, she wanted to show him that she did.
“Let’s do this!” she said. She would have to focus on her work instead of on the one man on the face of the earth who could distract her from the mission at hand.
**
Once all the guests had been served lunch and the dishes and remnants from the meal were cleared, Luke and Morgan headed back toward the kitchen.
“Take a seat. You’ve earned it.” Morgan motioned toward the butcher block table. “We pulled it off. And judging by all the comments, the meal is a success.”
“I’ve never seen so many happy guests in my life.” Luke sank down into a chair, letting out a sigh as he did so. Morgan’s job wasn’t easy. He’d been on the go ever since stepping foot inside her kitchen. And she’d done the bulk of the work. The whole time he’d been praying everything went smoothly and that he didn’t disappoint Morgan.
Morgan puttered around the kitchen and placed something in the microwave. Her work was all-consuming. And when she was in work-mode she resembled a whirlwind. It was passion, he realized. Morgan felt passionately about being a chef. Her every action spoke of her devotion to her craft. What would it be like, he wondered, to feel so over the moon about your profession? He certainly didn’t feel that way about being an executive at the family business. For him, it was a responsibility and a paycheck—an obligation toward the family legacy. It wasn’t a calling.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Morgan said, placing a plate down in front of him filled with salmon croquettes, green beans and a cup of soup.
His stomach grumbled in appreciation. “Oh, I’ve been dreaming about tasting this meal. Thanks for heating this up for me.” He reached for his fork and dug in to the salmon croquette. He wasn’t a bit surprised at the way it melted in his mouth. “This is just as amazing as I thought it would be. You really delivered the goods today, Morgan.”
Morgan sat down next to him. “It went really well. And the cookies were the icing on the cake. Pardon the culinary pun.”
“I know you’re relieved. Honestly, I think you would have been fine without me. You’re that good, Morgan.”
“That’s sweet of you to say. Your vote of confidence means a lot to me.” Morgan reached over and gently squeezed his hand. “Your presence here today gave me the push I needed. Just knowing that I wasn’t alone in this…it meant the world to me.” There was a tenderness in Morgan’s voice that he hadn’t ever heard before. His chest tightened. She was opening up to him, blooming like a rose in springtime.
“Remember what I said to you the other night about sticking by you for the long haul. I meant it, baby. I’ll stand by you through burnt quiches, soggy pancakes and deflated soufflés.”
“That means everything to me, although I hope I don’t have deflated soufflés. Those are heartbreaking for chefs.”
“No broken hearts allowed,” Luke said, knowing in a million years he would never hurt Morgan. Or at least he liked to think he wouldn’t. He wasn’t a perfect man, but his love for Morgan felt perfect.
Luke untied the apron Morgan had insisted upon him wearing to protect his clothing from being damaged. He took the apron off and placed it down on the table.
“Oops,” Morgan said, covering her grin with her hand. “I think some of the soup got on your shirt.”
Luke looked down at his white business shirt. There was a brownish stain staring back at him. Against the white shirt, it was as plain as the nose on his face.
He shrugged. “Hmm. I thought the apron covered me.”
“And I really did get a kick out of seeing you in that apron.” Morgan smiled at him, making him not give a hoot about ruining his favorite work shirt.
“I’m happy Callie didn’t see me. She might have taken photos and blackmailed me forever about it,” he teased. Growing up, Callie had always complained about him not lifting a finger around the house. Because they’d had maids and cooks in their employ, Luke had been a bit spoiled. At this moment he regretted not being able to cook.
“I may be able to help you out.” She stood up from the table and began rummaging in the drawers and cupboards. A few minutes later she had a small dish filled with a white concoction.
“Ta dah!” she announced as she bent down and began blotting his shirt with the solution.