“I do.” Items rattle as he packs up. “I have a cooking class to prepare for.”
I stand and pick up the blanket. It’s soft on my fingers as I begin to fold it. “You’re taking my class?”
“You didn’t think I’d pass up the chance to learn how to make pasta from scratch, did you?”
Happiness fills me with warmth because that means I’ll get to spend more time with Finn. “You realize I’m going to be bossing you around, and I know you don’t like that.”
He hoists the pack on his back and leans down to kiss me quickly. “I don’t think you telling me what to do is going to be a problem.”
“You say that now. You’ve never seen me in the kitchen.” I grin to myself because I make my cooking classes fun, and I usually find one person to tease. I try to pick the boss when I have coworkers in a class, and Finn is going to be the perfect choice.
When we return to camp, he walks me back to my cabin. We stand by my door as bugs fly around the light, and I say, “Thank you. I had a wonderful night.”
Finn kisses me and practically sets my body on fire as my desire for him tingles all the way down to my toes. When he steps back, he smiles. “There are going to be many more, Meg.” He walks backward as he talks. “Many more.”
When he turns around, I reach up and touch my mouth as I smile too. Even though he’s out of earshot I say, “I hope so.” I realize I do want to take a chance on Finn and add, “I really do.”
Chapter 7
I take stock of my six cooking students. Finn arranged for a variety of evening classes, and those who didn’t opt to do a picnic lunch with their activity are enjoying a barbecue that Ethan and two other cooks are running. Finn winks at me when he catches my eye. I enjoy watching Finn interact with his employees. He jokes around with them as we make the salad. Everyone is having a good time.
I ask the group, “Who has made homemade pasta before?” Nobody replies, so I say, “Good. I can’t have any of you showing me up.” I get a few smiles. “Has everyone washed their hands?” I look at Greta. The short, plump brunette is an older woman who is Finn’s executive assistant. “Finn?” She grins back at me.
His eyes widen for a second before they twinkle with amusement. He crosses his arms as he says, “Yes, I did,” as if he’s a little boy being scolded. I chuckle along with a few of his colleagues.
I demonstrate how to make the dough as I tell them about my training in Italy and what it’s like to make a traditional dinner for your family there. I have three stations set up with all the necessary tools, and I pair the students up. Because we’re going to make ravioli, I let each team make a different filling before I show them the process of rolling the dough through the pasta machine to create thin sheets.
I have them lay the dough on a tray that has squares with small indentations mapped out. Once the students put dollops of filling in each pocket, they place another sheet of dough on top. Then I show them how to press the dough against the teeth of the tray’s dividers to break the squares into individual raviolis.
I step back and watch as the teams work together to make more ravioli. Metal clashes and spoons clatter against bowls as students measure their ingredients. Finn is paired with David, the only other man in the group, and they appear to be managing well.
“Meg!” I turn to Natalie and Jen and see they have holes in their sheet of dough, so I go over to help them.
Once the problem is cleared up, I notice Finn and David. The metal handle of their machine rattles loudly as they move quickly. The pair dart their eyes at the other two teams, and I realize they’re trying to finish first. I smile at their competitive nature and watch how they’re constructing the ravioli.
One common flaw is too much filling, which makes the seal weak, letting the insides ooze out when the pasta is cooked. In their haste, Finn and David are overlooking that detail.
I walk over to them. “Is this a race I wasn’t aware of?”
David says, “We just want the most wine.” I learned a hard lesson with a previous group, so I had told them that while a good Italian drinks while cooking, I wasn’t letting anyone have alcohol until after they had finished making their ravioli.
“Right,” I say. “You’re supposed to enjoy the process.”
“We are,” says Finn. “Winning is always fun.”
I chuckle and think about the team with Greta and her partner, Natalie. They’re working slowly and paying attention to every detail. I say, “Okay, but this is my kitchen and my rules. Watch your fillings, because points will be taken away for any ravioli that lose their insides.”
The two men glance at each other with wide eyes, and I turn away as they scramble to repair their first batches of pasta. I say to the group, “It seems Finn and David have turned this into a competition, so let me explain the rules. While the first team to finish does get more wine, they aren’t given any points for speed. Good food takes the time it needs. I want accuracy.”
David lets out a groan, but Finn smiles at me. I say, “I already explained that you want to be as economical with your dough as possible, but remember: if it’s worked too much, the pasta will be too dense. Therefore, I will judge based on quantity as well as flavor and texture.”
“What’s the prize?” asks Greta as she smiles with confidence.
Since I have a feeling she and Natalie will win, and Finn will lose, I say, “The winning team will be waited on at dinner by the losing team.” I glance over at the men. “With attentiveness.”
Finn tilts his head at me. “It’s on.”
Greta says, “Hey, Finn. You do realize I’m not going to help you?” The group laughs, and more good-natured teasing happens as I walk over to grab two more pots so I can have one for each pair’s entry.
When all teams are finished with their preparations, I instruct them to gently place their ravioli in their pot. While David puts his pasta in the water, Finn checks out the other teams’ food. He says to Greta, “Yours look kind of fat.”
She swats at him as she laughs. “Keep your eyes on your own paper.”
He moves on to the other team, and Claire steps in front of Finn to block him. “Touch them, and you die.” Finn throws up his hands in good-natured defeat.
“Why don’t you pour everyone some wine?” I say. “That ought to keep you out of trouble.”
He waggles his eyebrows at me. “Trouble is my middle name.”
The kind of trouble I want to get into. I roll my eyes at him before I go on.
When the pasta is done and draining, I make a note of their counts. Finn and David should have had the most, but from the murky water in their pot, it’s safe to say they had a few casualties.
“As it stands now, Greta and Natalie are in the lead with the most ravioli.” The two women let out a whoop, and the others clap for them. When it’s quiet, I say, “I’d like each team to bring me one ravioli.”
I hold out a plate, and the squares plop lightly onto it before I drizzle a little olive oil over them and sprinkle on fresh-grated Parmesan. Creamy cheese oozes out of Claire and Jen’s offering when I cut it and bite it off my fork. I close my eyes as I savor the flavor and pay attention to the texture.
Another key to perfection is the amount of time the pasta is cooked. Theirs is a touch mushy, but not bad for their first try. “Wonderful, ladies.” I move on to the other two.
Finn should have been paying attention to how long David had their ravioli in the water, because it’s definitely overcooked. “Very good, gentlemen.”
I move on to Greta and Natalie, and as expected, the pasta is perfect al dente. I let out a little moan as the delicious savory flavors fill my mouth. I kiss my clenched fingers and splay them. “Bravo! We have a winner.” I look at the two men. “And unfortunately for you, losers as well.”
I step away from the students as they talk, and grab two aprons I recall hiding on the top shelf. They must have been from some themed week before my time, and I chuckle to myself as I pull down frilly
aprons that look like they belong in a Southern belle’s kitchen. I walk over to the men and present them with the flowered coverings complete with lace ruffles. “Gentlemen, you’ll be wearing these.”
David groans and then smiles at me. “You are one evil woman.”
I grin back. “You should see what I would have made the women wear.”
He and Finn put their aprons on and ham it up for the ladies as a couple of them take pictures with their phones. Once the teasing stops, I instruct Greta and Natalie to go sit in the dining room while the rest of us get the food on the table.
Dinner is entertaining as Finn and David make the most of their roles serving the winners, and all the participants seem to have a good time. The final pot thunks on its shelf as I put it away and reach for my glass of wine.
I smile as I replay the evening in my mind. Finn can dish out the teasing, which I love. But more importantly, he can take it. He and David handled losing with grace and let the winners have fun at their expense. That tells me Finn won’t always need to win or have the upper hand in our relationship.
The swinging doors that lead to the dining room open, and I look up as Finn approaches me. He asks, “What are you smiling about?”
“Your group was fun tonight. I see why you’re so successful. I can tell people like working for you.”
“Thanks. Part of the real estate sales culture is competition, but in the end, we’re all a team. It’s something I try to stress. I make sure we celebrate everyone’s successes equally.”
He glances around the kitchen. “Are we all alone?”
My wine glass clinks on the counter when I set it down and move toward him. “We are.” I place my palm on his chest, and he takes a deep breath as he puts his hands on my hips.
“Are you finished here?”
“Uh-huh.” I reach up, and firm muscles flex under my fingers as I hold on to his shoulders.
“Want to hang out with a loser?” asks Finn.
“Do you plan on wearing the flowered apron?”
“Does that sort of thing work for you?” He bites his lip as his gaze drops to my chest and back up. “Because babe, I’ll wear anything you want.” His chest rises, and a flood of desire fills me.
I’m not about to get carried away in my kitchen, so I chuckle as I step back and finish the rest of my wine. The rich flavor of a Malbec blend fills my mouth as I hold it for a second. After watching Finn tonight, I believe him. He’s a people pleaser, and I’m not seeing signs of the selfish college boy I thought spent his time trying to woo every female who crossed his path.
Finn says, “You didn’t answer me.”
“Nine o’clock at the dock.” A mischievous thought comes to me. “And wear your bathing suit. I hear a heat wave is rolling in.”
Finn’s gaze practically burns as he says, “It sure is.”
Chapter 8
Water laps at the dock, and the wood is cool under my feet as I make my way out to the end where I see Finn sitting. I have my bathing suit on under shorts and a tee shirt. He hears me approach and turns to look at me. Lights from camp sparkle in his eyes, and my heart flips as he smiles at me. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I set down my sandals, towel, and flashlight and take my time sitting next to him. The water is cool on my toes as I dip my feet in. “Full disclosure. We can’t swim at night on camp property.”
“Are we going to break that rule?”
“We’re not swimming on camp property. I have a special place to take you I think you’ll enjoy.”
“You’re going to sneak me off to a hidden spot without anyone around?”
I gaze into his eyes, and warmth fills me. I’ve got my college crush by my side, but he’s not the man I expected, and the discovery is even more wonderful.
I lean in slowly and kiss him. We take our time with a deep kiss that makes my insides melt. When we break away, we both have to catch our breath.
We hear laughter from campers walking by, and Finn says, “You were going to take me some place more private?”
“I was.” I grab my things and stand up to slip on my sandals. “It’s a short walk from here.”
Our feet thud over the dock as we make our way to land. When we get under the cover of darkness, Finn reaches for my hand and squeezes my fingers. “Thank you for tonight. My people had a great time.”
I click on the flashlight with my free hand and squeeze back. “They were a great crew. Everyone had a sense of humor, and that’s what made it fun.”
We walk in silence for a bit before Finn says, “I have a confession to make. I know we never talked about it when we were on the phone, but I’ve been thinking of you as my girlfriend for a while now.”
“You have?” My smile is so big it hurts my cheeks.
“I know it’s kind of presumptuous, but I believe in positive thinking.”
The flashlight’s beam illuminates a path in the woods, and I head toward it as I restrain the giggle of glee that wants to escape. “It’s okay. Most of the kitchen staff knows about my huge crush on you too.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever connected with someone the way I do with you, Meg. Remember our first phone call this summer?”
I chuckle because it went on for an hour. After that, I started returning his calls during my lunch break.
“You are so easy to talk to. I never wanted to hang up, and if it hadn’t been for work, we may have gone on for much longer.”
“I’m sure of it. I do love to talk, and you were foolish enough to laugh at my stories, so I shared the funniest ones I could remember.”
I recall when he told me about wiping his bottom with poison oak leaves as a small boy, and the way he had me in tears laughing. “That I was. I had no idea what I was getting into.”
We reach the clearing near the falls, and moonlight allows us to see, so I turn off the flashlight.
Finn faces me and takes my things to set them on the ground with his towel. “Neither did I,” he says as he slides his hands up my arms. A tiny shiver races down my spine from the contact. “You had me all over again that first day. Do you remember when you described your hollandaise sauce to me and let out a little moan?”
“What? I did not moan.”
“Yes, you did. And it was the sexiest sound I’d ever heard.” He leans down and kisses me softly. His hands press against my back, and he pulls me in as I melt over him like butter. The rush of the falls plays in the background as our mouths move in a tender, intimate dance. When he pulls away, his gaze is locked on mine. “Is it strange that I’m attracted to your voice?”
I shake my head. “Yours does things to me too.”
“Good. But it’s much more than that. Not many women find me as amusing as you do.”
I think about what makes me laugh and the way I can make a joke out of anything. It’s not always my greatest asset either. Some of the men I’ve dated don’t find me very funny. But Finn gets me. I suppose he’s run into women like the men who find my humor childish. “You laugh at my jokes too.”
Finn glances at the waterfalls as a fine mist from the rushing water fills the air. Three falls are fed from a spring and land in a pool of water the size of a pond. They are mesmerizing to watch. “This place is beautiful.”
“It is.” I grab the hem of my shirt and ask, “Ready to swim?”
Finn follows my lead. The cool night air tickles my skin when I remove my tee, and as I work on the waistband of my shorts, I notice he’s just as fit as I predicted. I kick off my shorts, and when Finn scans my body with his gaze, I’m pleased by the way he exhales with appreciation. I’m not hiding a thing in my one-piece suit with a plunging neckline that shows off my ample cleavage.
Goose bumps rise on my skin, but they’re not from being chilly. “Be prepared. This water isn’t as warm as the lake’s.” What I don’t tell him is that it’s suck-the-air-out-of-your-lungs cold.
I jump in first, but Finn is right behind me, and when we both pop up, he gasps. “Holy—! Wow. That w
as not what I expected.”
I grin at him. “I know. But it’s great on a really hot day.” He swims over to me. “Come with me,” I say. “I want to show you something.” My muscles flex as I swim quickly to warm up. I lead him to one of the falls and push through the sheet of water to a secret space.
He follows and stands next to me on the small rock ledge barely big enough for our feet. We’re behind a curtain of water in a space so small it’s hard not to touch. Finn wraps his arms around me. “Warm me up?” I cuddle into him. The water is up to our thighs, and our slick skin heats up quickly as we embrace. “You’re full of surprises, Meg.”
I think about how I changed my mind about him last night and say, “You too. I—” I smile as my embarrassment makes me drop my gaze. I want to kick myself for it.
“Hey, shy girl.” He tips my chin up to look into my eyes. “What were you going to say?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not usually this timid anymore. Something about you brings the old Meg back.”
“It’s okay. Tell me.”
“I liked watching you tonight. I saw a man I want to be with.” I take a deep breath. “In more than one way.”
He waggles his eyebrows. “You think I’m sexy?”
I chuckle, grateful he made a joke to help cover up my embarrassment. “I do, Finn.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, because”—he lets out a low noise from the back of his throat as he leans in close—“I feel the same way about you.” He kisses me, and my reaction is far from shy as my hunger for more takes over.
He grabs my bottom and pulls me against his groin, and I feel his hard, thick length against my stomach. I want him to touch me. I reach down to place my hand on the wet material of his suit that covers his cock. He presses against my palm and cups one of my breasts to rub his thumb over my erect nipple. It’s a sensitive area for me, and I let out a small moan.
But our space is cramped, and I’m afraid I’m going to fall off the ledge. I imagine the stone scraping against my skin, making me bleed everywhere, would be a mood breaker, so I pull away. “It’s too small in here for me to do what I want. Let’s go back to my cabin.”
Flirting with Finn Page 4