“What do you want to drink, honey?” I ask Max as I set down the chips and salsa in front of him.
“Water is okay.”
“What do you say to December, kid?” Gareth asks, and Max pauses with a chip close to his lips.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.” I touch his hair and his eyes widen. Damn, why did I do that? I shouldn’t have done that. “Um.” I look at Gareth, balling my hand at my side. “Would you like something to drink?”
He looks at my hand then me. “Do you have tea?”
“Yeah.”
“That’d be good, babe.” My skin tingles.
Focusing on the task at hand and not everything I’m feeling, I go back to the kitchen and come back a minute later with their drinks and a Diet Coke for myself.
“How was school today?” I ask Max, taking a seat on the couch next to him as he digs into the salsa with a chip.
“It was okay.”
“Just okay?”
“I had science, so that was cool.” He shrugs.
“Is science your favorite class?” I ask, dipping a chip into the salsa.
“Yeah, our science teacher, Mr. Tonk, is awesome. He’s always doing experiments and stuff, which makes class fun.”
“What’s your least favorite class?” I inquire, while Gareth takes a seat diagonally from us with Melbourne.
“Math. I hate math.”
“I don’t like math either,” I admit, and he eyes me doubtfully. “You don’t believe me?”
“You’re a teacher.”
“I am, but I still don’t like math. It’s not a subject I find easy to understand, and even to this day I have issues with a lot of math formulas.”
“What was your favorite subject?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “English. I love reading. I always have.”
“Were you a nerd when you were in school?” he asks with a smile twitching his lips.
“Probably.” I laugh. “I was friends with everyone, and I always had people to sit with at lunch and hang out with, but I mostly spent time alone reading.”
“I have a friend like that. He’s cool, but he would rather play video games at lunch and between classes.”
“Video games are cool,” I say, and he nods, dipping another chip and popping it in his mouth. “Do you like to bake?” I ask him, and he frowns at me. “What?”
“Baking is for girls.”
“Really? Says who?” I quickly glare at Gareth when he chuckles.
“I don’t know, but Grandma bakes, and so do my aunts and their girls.”
“Your dad doesn’t bake?” I question, and he looks at his dad and then back at me, shaking his head. “Do you like eating cookies and cakes and stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Me too.” I grin. “Baking is how my mom helped me understand math, but you know something else cool about it?” He gives me a half smile. “There is a lot of science involved. If you don’t measure and add just the right amount of ingredients, whatever you’re making won’t turn out like it should.”
“I guess you’re right,” he agrees, studying me.
“What’s your favorite thing your grandma or aunts make for you?”
“Chocolate chip cookies.”
I look at the clock and see we have enough time to mix up a batch of cookie dough. “Come on.”
“What?”
“You’re going to help me make some chocolate chip cookies. We will have to bake them at your house, but we can make the dough here.”
“Really?”
“Really. Well… I mean…” I look at Gareth. “Is that okay with you?”
“Yeah,” he agrees smoothly, but there is still an intensity in his expression that makes my legs feel weak.
I force myself to look away from him. “Come on, we don’t have long before you have to go pick up your brother,” I tell Max, and he gets up, following me into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Gareth comes in, taking a seat at the high table I use as a makeshift island. “The recipe we’re going to use is in here.” I hand Max one of my cookbooks. “Find the one for chocolate chip cookies while I get out the mixer.” Once I have the mixer set up, I go back to where he’s standing and look down at the recipe. “So we’re going to double the recipe so we’ll have plenty of cookies for everyone. Now, what do we need to do first?”
“It says you need to mix the eggs and butter together then add in sugar, vanilla, and salt.”
“Perfect, here’s the measuring cup.” I hand it to him and he looks at it. “I’ll grab the eggs while you measure out the butter.”
“How much butter?”
“What does the recipe call for?” I stop at the fridge and look at him.
“One and a half cups.”
“And since we’re doubling the recipe, how much do we need?”
“Three.”
“See? You got this down already,” I say, and he smiles brightly. “How many eggs do I need?”
He looks at the recipe. “Four.”
“Great.” I grab four eggs while he dumps the butter into the metal mixer bowl, and then I hand them over for him to crack. By the time we have the first five ingredients in the mixer, he’s a pro and completely at ease. “What’s next?”