The Secret Ingredient

by KD Fisher

  Adah shook her head like the question made no sense. “Just cooked it the way I always made grits at home. Let them soak and then cooked them low and slow. Sorry, I know it’s nothing too fancy but...”

  “Oh my god shut up, it’s amazing and you know it.” I winced. Probably not great form to tell your girlfriend—or whatever Adah was to me—to shut up in front of her kid. Casting a nervous glance over at Pete, I realized he’d cleaned his plate including my kale and pickled radicchio salad. Score one, Beth.

  “May I be excused?” Pete asked, already scraping his chair back from the table. At the nod of Adah’s head, he bounded off to his room and I took a moment to glance around the apartment. I liked it.

  Adah’s place was a perfect reflection of her. Neat and thoughtful. Everything in its place. The only decorations appeared to be a large, heavily annotated wall calendar and several neatly arranged drawings by Pete taped to the fridge. My house growing up had been chaos: random projects my dad was tinkering with scattered all over the kitchen table, Andrew’s sports equipment strewn in a haphazard trail leading to his room, my mom’s paperwork for the café forever getting lost among old newspapers and magazines.

  When I’d left with nothing but a backpack and my newly acquired passport, I’d vowed to keep my life simple. Eschew the world of material comforts in exchange for freedom and novelty. Keep moving forward until I found my place. The realization that maybe I’d been running away so fast I hadn’t realized how good I had it rang through me like a clear bell. Maybe I wanted to create that ideal place right here. Maybe I’d already done it. I shook my head hard and fast to shake the thoughts loose until I had some time to really sit with them.

  “You okay?” Adah’s eyebrows drew together in concern as she searched my face.

  “Oh, shit, sorry. Yeah. I was just spacing out.” I took another bite of chicken and groaned softly because it was so damn good. It would be interesting to see how much Adah’s cooking changed when she was performing for an audience and trying to meet the expectations of a corporate restaurant group. “Hey, can I come in this week for lunch? I should probably check out your restaurant at some point, huh?”

  Adah rubbed the back of her neck, looking suddenly and adorably nervous. “Sure. If you want. Don’t feel like you have to though or anything...”

  “I want to,” I interrupted. “If this is any indication, I can’t wait to try your menu. How’s everything going anyway? Are you guys planning to change your hours after Labor Day?”

  Adah tipped her head to the side like a confused, slightly intense-looking puppy. Goddamn it, everything she did was adorable. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, well a lot of the downtown restaurants that get a ton of tourist business scale down once the season ends. Like stop doing lunch or take an extra day off...that kind of thing.”

  A heavy, tense silence fell between us and Adah fiddled with her fork. In the distance the horn of a cruise ship in port sounded. The setting sun cast the whole kitchen in shades of rosy gold. After what felt like a solid hour of quiet but was probably less than two minutes, I slid my hand across the table and put it over Adah’s. Her shoulders dropped as her gaze flicked up to meet mine. “Don’t worry about it. Sorry if I made you stress out. It sounds like business has been good.”

  “It’s been okay. We haven’t been as busy for lunch and weeknight dinner service has been a mixed bag. I’ll bring it up on my next conference call with the folks at the restaurant group.”

  I was definitely an asshole, because without thinking I rolled my eyes at the words conference call and restaurant group. But seriously, all this big business stuff had nothing to do with turning out honest food and making sure everyone stood on equal footing in the kitchen. Those assholes only cared about one thing: money. And they used weird fake hierarchies and shitty business practices to make sure they lined their pockets as much as possible.

  “What?” Adah asked sharply, her body once again rigid. “Zest owns some of the best restaurants in the country. Café Eloise where I worked in Chicago has a Meridian star. And Per Diem in New York has three. Riccardo gave me a job when I had pretty much only worked in diners. The group takes pride in developing the talents of up-and-coming chefs. Not everybody has the luxury of inheriting a family business, you know.”

  I held up my hands. “Hey, sorry, I get it. I know you love your job and I know you’re great at it. It’s just, like, that stuff isn’t as important to me. I tried the whole elite culinary school thing and it didn’t work for me but that doesn’t mean I think it’s wrong for everyone.”

  Adah’s mouth was a thin line, her eyes distant. I recognized the mask she wore over her feelings and I hated that I’d made her feel the need to put it on. Scraping my chair closer to hers I twined my arms around her neck and pushed my nose into her fresh-smelling hair.

  Adah’s sigh fluttered warm against my skin. “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t mean to get so defensive.” She pulled back and smirked. “I think I’m just kinda jealous because your salad was so good.”

  * * *

  While Adah talked to her son and brought him downstairs for what had begun an impromptu movie night invite from her landlady and had somehow evolved into a movie marathon and slumber party with one of his friends joining in, I finished up the dishes and suppressed the urge to snoop around the apartment. Even though I’d known Adah for a couple of months now, had talked with her on the phone late into the night, and shared a handful of dates, she was still basically a mystery to me.

  Her place was without a doubt the cleanest apartment I’d ever been in. Most of the furniture looked secondhand but perfectly maintained. The small kitchen table and the four mismatched chairs around it looked like the kind of furniture my mom had scoured antique fairs for when she was still running the café. Drifting into the living room I flipped through the well-worn children’s books neatly arranged in a basket next to the couch. The only picture on the wall was a large photograph in a cheap plastic frame. In it, Adah held a grinning baby Pete high in the air beneath the Gateway Arch in St. Louis. Her hair was even shorter, in a severe buzzcut that still somehow looked great with her striking features. She wore an enormous T-shirt and a pair of baggy cargo pants. I thought of her now, the easy way she inhabited her clothes, her simple sense of style, and smiled to myself.

  The door creaked open and I startled backward, away from the photo, like I’d been doing something I shouldn’t.

  “Sorry that took so dang long. Pete’s friend Jason is a real chatterbox. Kid wouldn’t let me leave.” Adah shut the window, drew the curtains, and sank down onto the couch.

  The energy gathered thick between us as I pressed my body as close to her as physically possible without crawling into her lap. “Thanks again for dinner,” I murmured, resting my head on her shoulder.

  Close like this, I could feel the heat radiating off Adah. It had been an unseasonably cool day and the temperature had dropped with the setting sun but next to me Adah was like a furnace. She turned to me, her face inches from mine, and groaned. “Sorry. I don’t really know what the heck I’m doing. It’s been a while since I, you know...”

  “Had sex?” I ventured. “Here, how does this sound? I’m going to kiss you. If you like it, we can move on from there. Sound good?”

  Adah huffed out a low laugh. “I know I’m gonna like it.”

  Trailing a single finger up the sharp line of her jaw, I ghosted my lips over hers. The touch felt electric, like every one of my nerve endings stood at attention to feel this kiss as fully as possible. A delicious thrill raced through me. The only thing I knew in that moment was the taste of Adah’s lips, warm and fresh and vital.

  Adah groaned, low in the back of her throat. Her hands found my hips and tugged me fully onto her lap. Then we were kissing in earnest, soft moans and grasping hands and open mouths. I felt my pussy clench as tingling heat built and built bet
ween my legs. The roughness of Adah’s hands as she pushed my flannel down off my shoulders sent goose bumps racing up my arms. All I wanted was skin and touch and everything all at once.

  Almost overwhelmed as Adah’s tongue caressed mine, I slid my lips lower to the soft skin at the base of her throat. Her hips bucked up against me and a whine tore from her throat. I felt almost dizzy with need. Need and something else. Something warm and light and totally new. A kind of quiet intimacy I hadn’t felt in years of steamy hookups. Something I hadn’t even felt with Maya. My ears buzzed hot and I buried my face in Adah’s neck, so overwhelmed I was worried I was going to cry like some kind of hormone-addled teenager. Taking in deep breaths, I worked to pull myself together. Focus, Beth. Grounding details. The muffled sound of people laughing on the street below. The firm strength of Adah’s hands on my hips. The clean soap smell of her skin.

  Adah tipped my chin up to look into my face. “Honey, are you alright?”

  Oh dear god, the term of endearment in her low, sweet accent was so not going to help whatever weird spell had overtaken me. Fuck. Was Mercury in retrograde or something? I hadn’t checked my astrology app that morning and, clearly, I was paying the price.

  Pushing out a breath I nodded and plastered on a grin. “Yeah, sorry. I just got...”

  “You’re beautiful,” she breathed. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you. You’re so...” She shook her head. “Heck, I don’t even have an actual bed.” She chuckled, gesturing to the futon under us.

  Some of the unwelcome anxiety in my stomach eased and this time my laugh was genuine. “Damn, if you only knew... I’ve definitely done the deed in way worse settings.”

  Adah’s lips found my earlobe and I moaned, all humor evaporating, leaving only burning need in its wake. “Will you take off your dress?” Her question carried a commanding edge that ignited my body all over again. My hands felt heavy and sluggish as I stood and fumbled with the back zipper and slid the dress down to pool at my feet. I hadn’t bothered with a bra and the cool air pebbled my nipples. The roughness of her hands on me, palming my breasts before skimming down to my hips and pulling me back onto her, was exactly what I needed. Well, not exactly. I wanted to feel her skin against mine.

  “Is this okay?” I paused, my fingers poised at the top button of her shirt.

  Adah nodded slowly and as I fumbled with the buttons, I realized why so many characters in movies and romance novels tore off each other’s clothes. I was desperate to see her. And when I finally managed to get her shirt off, it was more than worth the wait. She was all hard planes and sinewy muscle. Two unexpected tattoos stood out against her pale skin: one a small series of numbers and letters above her hip that I guessed marked longitude and latitude, the other a beautifully done black and gray botanical curving up her ribs and disappearing beneath the dark fabric of her sports bra.

  As she shed her jeans with efficient movements, I trailed my fingers over the lines of ink. “What is this? It’s beautiful.”

  “Witch hazel. Grows all over back home,” she said simply, lying down on the couch and gesturing for me to lie on top of her.

  Then I was lost in her. This was more than just desire, though. It was closeness. It was something that felt an awful lot like care. We moved together, kissing furiously, trying and failing to keep quiet. I discovered she loved when I licked into her mouth, and she found the spot behind my ear that drove me wild with need. Then Adah shifted and my clit ground against her thigh and my whole body burned. I could feel my own wetness through my underwear rubbing her skin and the sensation turned me on even more. Adah clearly liked it too because she groaned and arched up, grinding back against me. We moved together faster, hands grasping, moans growing steadier and louder. My nipples dragged against the fabric of Adah’s sports bra and I sighed with pleasure as my internal muscles clenched tight.

  Twined together, our hips found their rhythm, our breaths came hard and shallow. My lips tingled from kissing and pleasure gathered in my belly. My skin was flushed hot, probably red and mottled. A few strands of Adah’s hair fell across her forehead, bobbing in time with her movements. I was climbing fast, everything inside me going warm and tight and full. Adah reached to palm my breast as her lips claimed mine again.

  “Fuck, I’m close,” I breathed, my voice high and needy.

  At this Adah pinched my nipple hard and the slight edge of pain pushed me right over the edge. My orgasm crashed through me, my whole body going rigid, as pulse after pulse of hot and cold pleasure radiated outward. Adah was still moving against me, then she groaned and bit my neck. With one last rough thrust against my thigh she collapsed into me.

  I felt pliant and satisfied as I peppered Adah’s face with light kisses. She smiled and sifted her fingers through my hair, which I was pretty sure was a tangled mess. If we stayed in this position much longer, I would probably lose all feeling in my arm but it was more than worth it.

  “You’re amazing,” Adah whispered, her voice serious. She pressed a kiss to my forehead and then that same weird overwhelmed feeling returned in a rush. I wanted to play it off, make a joke or maybe even dash to the bathroom before fleeing to my car. Instead I squeezed my eyes shut and let myself bask in the warmth of her affection.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Adah

  Sunlight filtered through the leaves casting dappled shadows over Beth’s face. She looked way too cute: face screwed up in concentration, curls springing out of a braid, big cream-colored sweater riding up as she stretched to reach a particularly perfect-looking Honeycrisp.

  “Want me to get it?” I tried not to sound as amused as I felt.

  She shot me a look that my mama would have been proud of and started back up, this time jumping to try to reach it. I wasn’t that much taller than her, maybe only three or four inches, but it was just enough for me to reach up, grab the apple, and set it gently in her basket. Beth rolled her eyes before dropping a quick kiss onto my cheek.

  “You really needed that one, huh?” I laughed. I’d already filled a whole bushel basket with apples. Beth, on the other hand, apparently only chose the fairest apples of them all for the individual apple tartes she was making for a big autumn feast at The Yellow House.

  “Yes,” she said in a mock prissy tone. “I want to celebrate the peak bounty of the season.”

  Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. She shouldn’t have been able to get away with saying that kind of stuff, but somehow she did. “Is that right?” I asked, stepping closer to her. She tipped her face up to mine, desire clear as day in her pretty brown eyes. Dang. I could not get enough of this woman. Since the first night we spent together we’d found any excuse to meet, to steal a few minutes alone together. I couldn’t recall a single time in my life that had been so charged, so exciting. So right.

  Then my kid came tearing out of the greenery like the devil himself was hot on his heels. Despite the fact that we were at an apple orchard in Maine on a beautiful October afternoon, my eyes immediately darted around, looking for danger. Which was stupid, I knew. But old habits died hard and all that.

  “Bees!” Pete stopped just short of hiding behind my legs. “You didn’t tell me this place was gonna be full of bees.”

  “Sorry, honey. Are you afraid of bees? You’re safe, okay?” Beth’s voice was calm and gentle, soothing me as much as I assumed it did my son. “A lot of the farms I work with have beehives. They’re just after the apple blossoms, not looking to get you. And if one does land on you, just stand really still and it’ll fly away when it’s ready.”

  “No way. One was for sure chasing me.” Pete looked over his shoulder like the bee might be behind him, biding its time until it could attack.

  Beth nodded, furrowing her brow seriously. “Well it might have been confused since you look so much like an apple blossom.” She winked. Pete tried to scoff but couldn’t hide his smile.

  “My mama k
ept bees too. I never got stung.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to push them back in. My past wasn’t a secret to Pete. He’d seen a photo of Jeremy and I told him the occasional story about growing up on the farm. Still, the last thing I wanted to talk about now was my family. The word didn’t even sit right in my brain anymore. They were just people I used to know from a place that I wanted to forget.

  “Why?” Pete asked, looking genuinely interested.

  “Why didn’t they sting me?”

  “No. How come your mom had bees?” Pete rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, well, we had a big garden and bees helped pollinate everything so we got bigger yields. And we harvested the honey. My brothers always used to make me do it.” For the love of all things holy, why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? His uncles were a big old question mark to Pete and I tried my hardest not to bring them up.

  “How many brothers did you have again?”

  Did. Past tense. It made sense. As far as Pete was concerned that whole part of my life was dead and buried. For the most part he was right. “Six.” My voice was a wobbly mess. I cleared my throat hard.

  “I wish we had a big family.” Pete sighed and scuffed the toe of his sneaker into the grass. “Being an only child is boring. Jason’s dads said they might adopt another kid.”

  The pain struck hard and deep, as my son’s words settled uneasily in the pit of my stomach. Had I deprived him of important things, necessary things, because I couldn’t get it together enough to give him a stable life? Beth’s hand found my shoulder. Her touch was a lighting rod I hadn’t known I needed. Grounding reassurance. “Are you kidding?” Beth asked, her voice easy and bright. “My brother and I used to fight so much I wished he’d never been born. He’s okay now though. Besides you have a wicked great family. Your mom here’s okay, but Ms. Vanessa? Jay? They’re amazing. Didn’t Jay take you guys to Legoland last weekend?”