Time to Laugh Romance Collection

by Wanda E. Brunstetter

  He guessed Carolyn Rutherford was a bit older than he was, probably in her late twenties. She was a little heavier than most of the women he went out with—not fat, but not skinny, which was probably a good testimony to her cooking skills. He pegged her height at just barely over the five-foot mark, nearly a foot shorter than he was.

  She held up some other strange contraption, but instead of looking at the device, he looked at her hands. She had tiny hands, short little fingers, and no rings. Of course, she might have taken them off because she was teaching a cooking class, but he filed the information in the back of his mind.

  She wasn’t a classic beauty, but she had a cute little nose and pouty, cherub lips with a very attractive smile. Her glasses only seemed to make her face more delicate, and he smiled every time she pushed them up the bridge of her nose with her index finger and kept talking without missing a beat. She spoke slowly enough to be understood, but not so slowly that she seemed to be talking down to her students. Her cheery voice made him wonder what she sounded like when she laughed.

  Her fluffy hair framed her face nicely, and even though he couldn’t decide what color it was, he liked it. It was a very unique shade of brown—dark, not on the black side, but not red, either. Her eyes were brown, but he wasn’t close enough to tell what exact shade.

  Since she appeared to be almost finished with her demonstration, Mitchell thought it best to actually pay attention to what she was doing because soon she would be starting to cook. A glint of gold around her neck caught his attention. He squinted and was able to make out a delicate gold cross on a chain around her throat. He wondered if she was a Christian, if she attended church regularly, and how he could find out.

  Before he could give it any more thought, she smiled and looked right at him. “And that about covers the basics. Now I’ll show you today’s creations, which are stuffed mushroom caps and hot tenderloin canapés on pumpernickel with blue cheese.”

  Before he knew it, she’d mashed a bunch of stuff together in a bowl, whipped it up, and stuffed it into a bag. Next, she squeezed it out in little patterns into the tops of the upside-down mushrooms. He didn’t like mushrooms, but it looked so pretty, he thought he just might try one.

  Then she mixed up another batch of ingredients, put a plop of the white stuff on a morsel of bread, then stuck a hunk of meat on top of each.

  “Now it’s your turn. I’ll divide you into groups of four, assign each group to a kitchen unit, and you can all do this yourself, following the instruction sheets I’ve passed out.”

  Mitchell smiled and stood. This was going to be easy.

  Carolyn fought to control a bad case of nerves. Men usually enrolled in the more basic class, Home Economics for Adults, because it was more suited to people with limited kitchen skills. The presence of a man in the more complicated course meant he was an accomplished cook, and rather than simply learning to make decent daily meals, specialty cooking was a personal interest.

  She’d already noticed that Mitchell wasn’t really paying attention when she ran through her basic spiel prior to her demonstration of their projects for the day.

  Carolyn divided everyone into five groups of four, the last team being Sarah, one of the younger ladies; Lorraine, one of the over-forty crowd; the elderly Mrs. Finkleman, who didn’t appear to have a first name; and Mitchell Farris.

  She directed the last group to the kitchenette in the back and gave everyone a brief explanation of the setup. Before she returned to the first group, she turned to Mitchell. As they made eye contact, he smiled brightly.

  Carolyn’s breath caught in her throat. One dimple appeared with his lopsided smile, and his green eyes sparkled with humor. His light brown hair, shorter on the sides and gelled on top to hold it in place, set off his straight nose and highlighted his masculine features, making him more handsome than any man had a right to be. He towered above her, and she estimated his age to be about twenty-seven.

  “I’ll be back later to check on your progress,” she mumbled and hustled away.

  Spending time with each group, Carolyn answered questions and made sure everyone took a turn in the preparation of the mushroom filling. By the time she returned to the last group, she had to struggle to quell her nervousness. She expected this group would need little interaction and instruction from her, as Mitchell would be able to help them.

  As she joined them, the group was preparing to squeeze the filling into the mushroom caps. Mrs. Finkleman had applied the star-shaped decorating tip and was busily stuffing the mixture into the bag.

  Carolyn put on her best teacher smile to hide her jitters. “Why don’t we give Mr. Farris the honor of filling the first mushroom cap?”

  He flinched then made direct eye contact. “Please call me Mitchell. Mr. Farris is my father.”

  His gorgeous smile almost made her knees wobble. Carolyn forced herself to smile. “Mitchell, would you like to do the honors?”

  He took the bag and positioned it in the strangest way she had ever seen, with the tip touching the mushroom. Anxious to see his method, she leaned closer.

  When he gave it a small squeeze, nothing came out, so Carolyn had to assume he was testing the viscosity of the mixture, which probably wasn’t a bad idea. She wished she could have made notes.

  He stopped all motion and raised his head then stared straight into her face. “I’m not very good at this,” he mumbled.

  His modesty impressed Carolyn. “It’s okay,” she muttered, smiling in anticipation, waiting. “Take your time. I’m interested in your technique.”

  With a small shrug of his shoulders, he squeezed the bag of filling once more, but still nothing came out. Carolyn let her smile drop.

  Again, he squeezed it a little harder, but still not using sufficient pressure to start the flow through the designing tip. Carolyn wondered if there was something wrong with the filling.

  As discreetly as possible, she checked the bowl containing the mixture that had not fit inside the bag. It appeared to be the right consistency and texture, so she focused her attention back to Mitchell as he gave the bag a small shake then held it farther away from the mushroom.

  He squeezed harder then gave an abrupt sigh when nothing came out. A quick glance told her the other groups were already half through pressing swirls of filling onto the neatly laid mushroom caps.

  Mitchell mumbled something under his breath and squeezed again, much harder this time.

  A stream of filling spewed out of the bag. Some of it hit the mushroom, propelling it to the end of the baking sheet and over the edge. The errant mushroom cap continued its trajectory and disappeared off the end of the counter. A long trail of filling zigzagged all over the baking sheet and countertop. With the sudden change in the thickness of the center of the bag, Mitchell lost control and fumbled as he tried to catch it, unsuccessfully. It landed on the counter with a plop, splattering the contents from the open end in a three-foot radius, most of which landed on Carolyn’s sleeve.

  Sarah and Lorraine stood with their eyes wide and mouths gaping while Mrs. Finkleman lowered her head and stared at her feet. Mitchell stood motionless, staring at his hands, which were covered with the gray mixture. He rubbed his thumb and index finger together, feeling the texture of it, shuddered, and then stuck one finger in his mouth to suck it off.

  “I told you I wasn’t very good at this,” he mumbled.

  Carolyn hadn’t seen even a high school student’s attempts meet with such disastrous results. While she had to pay attention to each group, she had spent more time than she should have watching Mitchell’s group’s progress. He hadn’t done anything in the preparation but had watched the women do all the chopping and mixing. At first she thought it was because he’d done it so often he was letting the novices learn. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “You’ve never done this before, have you?” she asked.

  A dead silence filled the room; all motion in the groups halted. Mitchell’s face turned beet red. “Can you tell?”r />
  She surveyed the mess on the table, as did everyone else in the room. Giggling drifted from the first group, along with a badly masked “shush” and a grunt from someone probably being poked in the ribs.

  Carolyn squeezed her eyes shut and slowly opened them, releasing a sigh at the same time as she crossed her arms over her chest. “There’s a basic home economics cooking class on Thursday nights. Perhaps you could practice some basic skills there before taking on a more advanced class such as this. I could have you transferred since their first class hasn’t started yet.”

  He shook his head so fast, a lock of hair flopped onto his forehead. “I don’t have time for that. I need to learn how to make all these fancy thingies in seven weeks. I’m staying.”

  She was about to tell him that the basic class included one lesson on entertaining but stopped short. Something in his eyes implored her to let him stay.

  Carolyn sighed once again. “Okay, let’s clean this up. Accidents happen.”

  He smiled and mouthed a thank-you, which she didn’t want to acknowledge. Instead, she drew everyone’s attention to the front, while Mitchell and Sarah dutifully wiped the counter and Lorraine salvaged what filling she could from the cookie sheet and put it back in the bag. Mrs. Finkleman wiped off her shoe then used a toothpick to dig what she could out of the tiny holes and crevices in the leather.

  When Carolyn started the class on their second project, Mitchell stood back to watch instead of assisting with the preparation, and the remainder of the class time progressed without incident.

  Everyone cleaned up their work areas and filed out. Mitchell’s group was the last to leave, having had the most to clean up. Carolyn said her good-byes to Sarah and Lorraine and Mrs. Finkleman, but the cause of the flying filling lagged behind.

  “I can see there’s a trick to putting that stuff into the mushrooms. I was wondering if you could tell me what it is.”

  “All you have to do is increase the pressure gradually and …” She let her voice trail off as Mitchell stepped closer. Had he been anyone else, she would have been fine with his proximity. But for some reason, being in the same room with this man felt much too close for her liking. Not wanting to appear nervous, she didn’t move away.

  “It’s really important that I learn how to do this properly.”

  “You just need a little practice. All you have to do is follow the instructions on the handout sheets.”

  “I’m really sorry about the mess.” His voice lowered in pitch and volume, and he reached out to swipe something off the bridge of her glasses with his index finger. “By the way, I couldn’t help noticing that little cross around your neck. It’s very nice,” he said as he lowered his hand to his side.

  Carolyn caught her breath and stepped back. She wasn’t sure what Mitchell meant by his comment, but good-looking men seldom looked at her a second time, if ever there was a first. And even for those who chose to ignore her plain features, once they got to know her better, men often ridiculed her for being “too religious.”

  If she let her imagination run wild, she could easily fantasize that Mitchell was attempting to make a pass at her. However, since he’d mentioned her gold cross, she figured he was simply doing his research so he could eliminate her from his list quickly, which was fine with her. She’d decided long ago only to date men from her church whom she already knew were Christians. It was less painful that way.

  Carolyn gulped then swallowed hard to clear the lump in her throat. “It was a gift from my grandmother—when I was baptized a few years ago.”

  His mouth formed into a smile that made Carolyn’s heart pound. “That’s really sweet. Can I see you before next class?”

  Carolyn nodded numbly. “Sure. I’ll be here to set up half an hour before the class starts next week.”

  “I meant before that. Like during the week.”

  Carolyn could barely speak beyond the tightness in her throat. “Why?”

  He shuffled closer then smiled, but his eyes held no humor. Instead, it was one of those slow, lazy smiles like she’d seen in movies—just before the tall, dark, handsome hero swept the heroine off her feet.

  “So we can talk.”

  “Sorry. I don’t think so,” she muttered, deciding it was time to rein in her imagination.

  “But I’d really like to get to know you better.”

  The custodian poked his head into the room, sparing Carolyn from needing to elaborate or discuss it further.

  “It’s time to go. The custodian needs to lock up the building for the night.”

  Mitchell blinked and stepped back, and his goofy grin disappeared.

  Carolyn brushed her hair off her face, straightened her glasses, crossed her arms, and cleared her throat, grateful that he apparently understood her unspoken meaning. “I’ll see you in class next Tuesday.”

  Slowly, he turned and left the room.

  Instead of gathering her supplies, Carolyn stared at the open doorway and allowed herself to exhale, not realizing until that moment that she’d been holding her breath. Before she could fully relax, four fingers appeared in the doorway, grasping the door frame, followed by Mitchell’s head. He smiled and winked. “Good night, Carolyn,” he said and disappeared.

  Carolyn closed her gaping mouth. “Good night, Mr.—Mitchell,” she mumbled, but he was already gone.

  Chapter 2

  Good evening, Carolyn.”

  Carolyn fumbled with the recipe sheets she’d been sorting. “Good evening, Mitchell. You’re early.”

  All week long she’d been torn between wanting him to come to class early and dreading that he actually would. Every day, without fail, he’d invaded her thoughts. She couldn’t decide if she should have been flattered by his attention or angry with him for teasing her.

  He stepped forward and rested his palms on the demonstration table. “I wanted to get here early to ask if you would go out for coffee and dessert with me after class tonight.”

  The knife she’d so carefully selected fell from her fingers. “I don’t think so.”

  “I guess you’re right. It might be a little late for that, since we both have to get up for work in the morning. How about tomorrow, then? Maybe after dinner we can take in a show.”

  She stared blankly at him. Flirting she could handle, but she had no intention of being made for a fool. Other than his being hopeless in the kitchen, she didn’t know anything about him. Most of all, she wasn’t going to go out with a non-Christian. “No, but thank you for the invitation.”

  He stepped closer, so she pretended to be selecting matching forks.

  “Why not? Are you already involved in a relationship?”

  She’d been casually dating Hank off and on for a while. She couldn’t quite call it a relationship, but Hank went to her church, and he was safe. “I’m seeing someone, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  He moved closer. Her hands froze. “Is it serious? Are you engaged?”

  The perfectly matched forks dropped into the drawer with a clatter. “That’s personal and none of your business.”

  He moved even closer. Carolyn’s breath caught and her heart raced.

  “I think it is since I want to get to know you better.”

  “I’m too old for you.”

  For a split second, he froze then blinked. “I don’t care how old you are.”

  “Mitchell, I’m thirty-two years old. What are you, twenty-seven?”

  “Twenty-four. But who’s counting?”

  She looked up at him. Mitchell was more assertive than she was used to, but he was well mannered and charming. He had a delightful sense of humor and was able to recover quickly when caught in a spot, something she always thought revealed a strong character. However, at nearly thirty-three years old, it was time for her to get serious and find someone to settle down with. Soon it would be her birthday, adding another year between them. She always preferred older men, but a nine-year age difference the other way was robbing the cradle.


  Carolyn squeezed her eyes shut to clear her thoughts. “I’m sorry, Mitchell, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but shut it quickly at the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall.

  Carolyn quickly adjusted her glasses then greeted her incoming students.

  After she welcomed them, she took her place at the front of the classroom and froze. Mitchell sat in the front row, center seat, right next to Mrs. Finkleman. He crossed his arms, smiled, and winked.

  Briefly, Carolyn considered canceling the class.

  She was barely conscious of what she was doing as she showed the class how to properly lay out decorative meat, cheese, fruit, and vegetable trays. Next, she demonstrated how to make rosette radishes, carrot spirals and curls, then her specialty edible decoration, an onion blossom. Throughout the entire process, Mitchell alternately groaned and joked with both her and the rest of the class, questioning his ability to do the fine detail required. His protests were promptly met with sympathetic comments and encouragement all around.

  Carolyn smiled through gritted teeth. Very soon he would have every woman present eating out of his hand. She vowed to be different.

  She continued with the second project, cream cheese veggie puffs, and sent everyone to try their hand at carving the raw vegetables and assembling the puffs. This time the pastries would be filled with a spoon, and she was almost positive Mitchell could handle that.

  As everyone proceeded to their kitchenettes, she noticed that both Lorraine and Sarah had brought full-sized aprons and Mrs. Finkleman wore her canvas sneakers.

  Mitchell dragged his feet all the way back to the mini kitchen in the back of the classroom. Fortunately for him, today’s projects looked easier, and he wouldn’t make a fool of himself again.