After butchering the vegetables, he welcomed the chance to make the next project. He didn’t attempt to cut the onion—after all, he doubted anyone at his sister’s wedding would care if he set out onions that looked like flowers. After the mess he made with the carrot curls and radish rosettes, when he was asked if he’d rather chop the vegetables or do the mixing, he picked the mixing, even though he’d never operated an electric mixer before. This time he’d paid more attention to Carolyn’s demonstration, so he knew he could do it.
Sarah smiled up at him with stars in her eyes, which bolstered his sagging confidence. He smiled back then quickly turned away. While she seemed like a nice kid, he didn’t want to encourage her. What he really wanted was Carolyn’s attention.
Mitchell caught himself grinning as he absently worked the beaters around the bowl. Carolyn’s calm manner enchanted him. She hadn’t made a big production out of his major disaster last week. Neither had she fawned all over him. She quite plainly expected him to clean up his own mess without embarrassing him about what he had done.
Also, the tiny gold cross Carolyn wore again this week intrigued him, especially after she told him she’d recently been baptized. She hadn’t backed down and told him the cross was just a piece of nice jewelry or that it was simply a gift without an explanation. She’d had the guts to tell him in not so many words that she was a Christian.
After thinking about it all week, he realized he hadn’t given her any indication of his own status in his relationship with the Lord, so, if he’d read her hint correctly, he couldn’t blame her for not so subtly telling him to get lost. He wouldn’t go out with a non-Christian, either.
With all that to consider, he’d had the whole week to think and pray about it, and this was one relationship he wanted to pursue.
“Can I add this now?” Sarah asked, holding a small bowl full of finely chopped green onions.
He nodded and made one final circle with the whirring beaters, taking care that he didn’t bump the sides of the bowl. He raised the beaters and tilted the mixer to give Sarah room to dump in the onions when an onslaught of white projectiles flew out of the bowl, splattering everything in the near vicinity.
Still holding the bowl of onions, Sarah spread her arms and lowered her chin to look down at the front of her bright blue apron and the sleeves of her red shirt, which were now enhanced by odd-sized white polka dots.
“Oops,” Mitchell mumbled as he turned off the mixer.
“What happened here?”
Mitchell cringed. Carolyn had abandoned whatever group she was with and was now standing beside Sarah, taking in not only the mess all over Sarah, but also the smattering of white blobs all over the counter and up the side of the cupboard.
Mitchell swished the electric mixer behind his back and grinned. “Nothing.”
Carolyn bent her head forward, closed her eyes, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “You need to turn the mixer off before you lift the beaters out of the bowl. I really think you should switch to the more basic class on Thursday nights, Mitchell.”
He shook his head. “No! I’ll get the hang of this.”
She sighed, which he thought rather endearing. She returned to the front, and Mitchell listened intently as she described how to properly dice the vegetables, which ones to chop finer, and recommended different types of knives and cleavers for the different jobs and techniques.
Mitchell now knew more than ever that he was in over his head. Besides the cutlery he ate with, he only owned one knife, and he didn’t know the difference between it and any other. It had never mattered before.
When they were done, each group sampled the others’ creations. Everyone else’s radish roses and fruit carvings looked nicer than his, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to decorate; he only wanted to serve good food and to say he made it himself.
He glanced up at the clock. Time never passed so quickly when he was at work. Yet they had finished their second lesson. Only five lessons remained before Jake and Ellen’s wedding rehearsal, and he couldn’t see himself being anywhere near ready to serve the kind of food he’d proudly told his family he would make.
Being the tallest in the group, Mitchell volunteered to do what he did best in the kitchen—putting everything away in the cupboards no one else on his team could reach.
Once more, he glanced to the front of the class at Carolyn, at the display table with all her perfect samples. They emphasized how pathetic his creations had turned out. He didn’t know what he was going to do, but whatever it was, time was running out and he had to act fast.
In all the time she’d been teaching, Carolyn had never been so relieved to see the end of a class. She dismissed everyone and busied herself with tidying up her work area. Everyone headed for the door except, to her dismay, Mitchell. He approached her, stood directly at the table in front of her, planted his palms firmly on the surface as she worked, and leaned forward, giving her no choice but to stop what she was doing.
“I can’t do this,” he said, waving his hand over her display of cut fruits and vegetables. “I need remedial help.”
“Remedial help?”
“I peel carrots at home, but I certainly don’t cut them into these fancy curly things. I really have to learn to do this stuff. Could you give me extra lessons during the week? I’m desperate.” He grinned a cute little boyish grin that emphasized his charming dimple.
Carolyn nearly choked. She couldn’t imagine why he was so adamant about learning to prepare fancy hors d’oeuvres or finger foods, and especially the delicate procedure of food decorating, when she doubted his ability to cook even a basic meal.
She continued to stare back at him across the table. If he needed help improving his basic cooking skills, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. Except for Wednesday night Bible study meetings, her evenings and social calendar were embarrassingly bare. She often assisted graduating students in acquiring basic cooking and home management skills, but Mitchell wasn’t a student. He was a grown man.
She opened her mouth to decline, but before she could get a word out, he pressed his palms together, widened his grin, and opened his eyes even wider. “Puh-leeeeze?” he begged.
Carolyn folded her arms in front of her chest and openly glowered at him. In response, he pressed one palm to the center of his chest, fingers splayed, and batted his long eyelashes.
“Why is this so important to you?”
Mitchell’s foolish grin dropped, and he straightened. “I promised my sister and my mother I would cook the food for her wedding rehearsal. Her fiancé is my roommate and best friend, and he doesn’t think I can do it. But I can’t let Ellen down. This is important to her.”
“Oh.” Whatever she had expected, this wasn’t it.
“You can trust me. I’m a nice guy. I go to church every Sunday and everything. Promise.”
Carolyn’s breath caught. All week she’d been wondering why he’d really asked about the cross her grandmother gave her. Now she knew. That was, if she read his between-the-lines statement properly.
She cleared her throat, hoping her voice would come out even, and dropped her arms. “All right, I’ll help you. I’m free Thursday night.”
Mitchell moved his hands back to the tabletop and leaned closer. “And just to let you know, I was serious about taking you out for dinner sometime.”
Carolyn gulped. What had she done?
Carolyn stood in front of Mitchell’s door but didn’t knock. She wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing in agreeing to tutor Mitchell outside of class hours. She’d prayed about it and received no clear direction, so she had to stand by her word. Besides, it wasn’t like she was going to date the man. His age aside, so far she couldn’t see anything wrong with him, but at the same time, she didn’t see anything that made him right for her. If there were any man she would have considered right for herself, it was Hank, and Hank and Mitchell were as different as night and day.
However, she wasn’t standing in front of Hank�
��s front door. She was at Mitchell’s, and she was not here as a social call. This was business. Or a favor. Or something.
Carolyn gathered her courage, raised her fist, and knocked. A dog barked, quieted, and Mitchell answered almost immediately. Some kind of midsize hairy brown dog stood at his side, indifferently sized her up, yawned, then turned and walked away, allowing her to follow Mitchell down the hall into the kitchen—where the counters were completely bare.
She waved one hand in the air above the empty countertop. “I thought you wanted me to show you how to cook something today. You don’t have anything ready.”
Mitchell raised his arms, palms up, then let them flop down to his sides. “I told you I needed help. If we went to the supermarket, could you show me what to get?”
Carolyn sighed. She hadn’t counted on doing his grocery shopping. She opened her mouth to complain, but rather than watch his theatrics again, she gave in. “Okay,” she muttered. “Let’s go.”
Minutes later, Mitchell pushed the cart as Carolyn selected the ingredients, in addition to some basics she doubted he had. Walking up and down the aisles, Carolyn tried to shake the cascade of mixed emotions as he teased and complained about the items she chose, acting as if they belonged together.
Once they returned to Mitchell’s house, she spread everything on the table, ready to begin.
“Okay, where do you keep your bowls?”
“Bowls?”
Carolyn knotted her brows. “We need a bowl like the one we used in class last night.”
“I don’t have a bowl that big.”
Carolyn sighed. “What do you mix things in?”
“Mix things? I put them in the pot.”
She rested one hand on her hip and waved the other in the air in a circular motion as she spoke. “I don’t mean when you’re cooking something, I mean when you’re mixing the ingredients. The bowl you use when you make cookies.”
He grinned that impish grin she was seeing more and more often, giving Carolyn the feeling she wasn’t going to like his answer.
“I buy the kind that comes in a tube. You just slice off pieces and put them in the oven.”
“You don’t own a mixing bowl….” Her voice trailed off, and she let out a loud, exasperated sigh. “Okay, we’ll use the pot. Where’s your electric mixer?”
He raised one finger in the air in triumph. “I have one of those!”
Instead of opening a cupboard door, Mitchell left the room, the door to the garage opened and banged shut, boxes shuffled, and the door opened and closed again.
He returned with a large box, which he placed on the table then used a knife from the cutlery drawer to slice through the manufacturer’s clear tape. He pulled out the protective foam packing, a warranty card and other literature, and finally, a brand-new electric mixer wrapped in a plastic bag.
Carolyn sighed again.
“You sure do sigh a lot.”
She ignored his comment. “Why was your mixer in the garage?”
“I bought it after class last week and put it with my tools so I would know where it was when I needed it.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
This time, it was Mitchell who sighed loudly. “Carolyn, I’m starting from scratch here. I told you that.”
She opened her mouth to suck in a deep breath, but after his comment about her sighing, she quickly closed it again and let her breath out slowly through her nose. “Do I dare ask if you own a wooden spoon?”
“Go ahead and ask, but I don’t think you’re going to like the answer.”
Carolyn buried her face in her hands. “Mitchell!” she mumbled through her fingers. “How do you expect to prepare anything if you don’t have the proper utensils?”
“I told you, I need—”
“I know, I know. You need—”
“Remedial help,” they said in unison.
They stared at each other in silence until Carolyn gave up and reached for the pot. “Okay, we’ll do our best with what you’ve got. But in the meantime, let’s make a list of what you should have.”
He nodded, and they set to work using whatever she could find to do the best job under the circumstances.
Carolyn guided him through the preparation process, and despite the extra time he took to write notes, things progressed well. His canapés didn’t look quite as nice as hers did, and his cheese balls were a little crooked, but Carolyn assured him they would taste just fine.
Carolyn washed the dishes and Mitchell dried, pausing every once in a while to snitch a sample of their creations.
“You know,” he mumbled as he licked his fingers, “I should probably have some of those fancy thingies for dessert.”
“Fancy thingies?”
“You know. Those chocolate thingies. They have different fillings and that white swirly stuff on top. You know, when you go to the coffee shop and you have coffee and one of those little chocolate thingies with the stuff in the middle.”
Thinking he probably meant dessert squares, she nodded.
“Great! Can you show me how to do those, too? I’m going to make Jake eat his words. And I’ll have you to thank for it.” His charming grin made Carolyn’s foolish heart flutter.
“I suppose I can. I have many recipes for chocolate dessert squares.”
“No, I want a special one. I can’t describe it, but I can show you.”
“All right.”
She barely had time to dry her hands when Mitchell gently grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Wait! Where are we going?”
“We have to go to the coffee shop and buy some. They’re only open for another hour. I hope they still have some left.”
Carolyn let her mouth gape open. She hadn’t expected to go out. She thought he would show her a picture in a cookbook. Then she remembered he said he’d borrowed a cookbook from someone he wouldn’t name and he’d given it back.
In silence, she slipped on her jacket and followed him out the door to his car. Before she knew it, they had arrived at the local coffee shop.
As he opened the door, his other hand touched the small of her back and nudged her closer to him so he could lean down and whisper in her ear. “I see some people I know. Don’t let them know why you’re with me.”
Carolyn’s heart caught in her throat. She’d used the difference in their ages to discourage him from thinking she would go out with him, but even though this was merely the extension of their cooking lesson, it hurt to know she was now an embarrassment to him. She stiffened her back and accompanied him inside.
“Hey! Mitch!”
Two young men about Mitchell’s age waved at them from one of the tables near the door as they entered.
“Gordie! Roland! How are you guys?”
To Carolyn’s horror, the two young men rose and approached them.
“Carolyn, I’d like you to meet my friends Gordie and Roland.”
Gordie and Roland nodded accordingly then quickly glanced back and forth between her and Mitchell. In response, Mitchell’s arm slid around her back, then slipped to her waist. Numbly, she glanced down at his fingers. He grinned at his friends.
She probably should have felt very flattered that he was trying to make it look like they were on a date, but she knew he was trying to hide the real reason they were together.
His friends grinned back, nodded, and returned to their table.
“They’re good guys, but I didn’t want their company tonight.”
Carolyn refused to look at him, wanting to cherish the moment, even if it was only in her imagination.
Mitchell ordered them each a cup of coffee and two chocolate dessert squares, one wrapped for takeout, claiming he wanted Carolyn to take it home and analyze it. She tried to convince him there was no need, but he insisted.
As she sipped her coffee, she could feel the stares of Mitchell’s friends on her back. A tightening of his jaw signified their return. The chairs scraped on the floor as
they sat, one on each side of her. Mitchell’s jaw tightened even more. He opened his mouth to speak, but Gordie beat him to it.
“You know, Carolyn, this may sound like a line, but I know I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
Not wanting to further embarrass Mitchell, she shrugged her shoulders. “It isn’t exactly a large city. I’m sure it’s possible.”
“I suppose. It’ll come to me.”
Roland butted in. “Jake and Ellen’s wedding is coming up fast.”
“Just over a month from now.”
“I can hardly wait to see you in a monkey suit, Mitch.”
Carolyn wished she could see him in that monkey suit, too. He looked great in his jeans and loose shirt, but nothing made a man more striking than formal wear. Mitchell Farris in a tux would be a sight to behold. Not that she was interested. If she were interested in anyone, it would be Hank, whom she already knew.
The cutest dimple appeared in Mitchell’s left cheek when he smiled mischievously at his friend. “You’ll be wearing one, too. Now if you’ll excuse us?”
At Mitchell’s blatant hint, his friends left not only the table but the building, as well.
“Wasn’t that a little rude?”
Mitchell shook his head. “Naw, they only came over here to check you out. You’d better get used to it.”
Used to it? She didn’t intend to be out with Mitchell in public again.
He changed the subject, and before long, he held her spellbound and laughing at his outlandish tales. She enjoyed herself more than she had in years.
“Oops,” he mumbled as he checked his watch. “I think they’re about to close.”
They made pleasant conversation in the car while Carolyn sat holding the box containing the dessert square in her lap.
The garage door opened as they pulled into the driveway, then the garage. Carolyn wondered why he didn’t simply drop her off beside her car, which was parked on the street in front of his house.
“Would you like to come in? We can put our feet up and watch some TV.”
She shook her head. “I’d better go. I have classes in the morning, and I’m sure you have a job to go to.” Carolyn supposed it would have been polite to ask what he did for a living, but she didn’t want to encourage him in thinking she wanted to get personally involved.
Time to Laugh Romance Collection Page 47