“You mean you can’t ride a bike?” The look on his face was one of unimaginable horror.
“No. I mean, yes, I can ride a bike. It’s the cooking that I never conquered.”
“Did you ever try?”
She nodded. “I’ve attempted to teach myself without success. My mother can’t cook, so she obviously didn’t show me. And my father thought that cooking was a waste of time. That’s what he paid people to do. So he forbade me from spending time in the kitchen when instead I could spend the time taking voice lessons as well as dance and acting classes.”
“Sounds like you had a very busy and educational childhood.”
She shrugged. “It was what it was.” Her childhood was a mixed bag of extravagance and neglect. She was certain she wasn’t the only Hollywood child to have the same experience
. “How did you become so good in the kitchen?”
“Come to the kitchen with me and I’ll tell you.”
“The kitchen, but why?”
“Because you’re going to have your first cooking lesson.”
She struggled to keep her mouth from gaping. After she recovered from her surprise, she said, “You don’t want to do this. I’m pretty sure I can burn water if left alone.”
He smiled. “I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”
“I wouldn’t be so certain.”
“Come on.” He reached out and took her free hand. He tugged until she got to her feet. “After all, you can make chili.”
“You know that it was out of a can.”
“Still, you didn’t burn it. That’s a start.”
“I must admit that I can handle a microwave.”
“Good.” They moved to the kitchen. “Now you have to pick—red or white?”
“Wine?”
“No. Sauce.”
She liked them both. “Paired with what?”
“Pasta and...” He opened the freezer and searched inside. “How do you feel about shrimp?”
“I love it.” She was so thankful that he’d given up on the idea of teaching her to cook. She was hopeless. But with Jackson cooking, this was going to be a delicious dinner.
“Good. Now what sauce would you prefer?”
“White.” She couldn’t help but smile. She’d never been in the kitchen with a man where his sole interest was in preparing her dinner. In fact, no man had ever cooked her dinner. Her smile broadened.
“Well, what are you doing standing over there. Put your hot cocoa down and wash up. You have work to do.”
“Me? Cook?” This was not a good idea. Not at all.
“Uh-huh. In fact, you can do it all yourself. I’ll supervise.”
Her stomach plummeted. So much for the delicious dinner that she’d been envisioning. “Are you sure you want to ruin dinner? I’m good with watching.”
“You’ll never learn to cook that way. Trust me. This will work.”