Free Perfect Summer by Katie Graykowski

container of chocolate whey powder, and pulled out the scoop. “Got it.”
    He washed it off in the sink. “So four of these scoops of milk into a glass and then what?”
    “Cut the lemon in half and squeeze the juice into the milk. Let it sit for five minutes until it gets thick and, presto, buttermilk substitute. While you do that, I'm going to email you the recipe.” A couple of mouse clicks followed, and then his email binged.
    “Got it.” Since emailing and talking on the same piece of equipment was about as second nature to him as cooking, he opened his laptop and brought it to the kitchen island. “So um...” He pulled up the recipe. “I'm supposed to whisk the dry ingredients together.” He threw open the cooking utensil drawer—no whisk. “I don't have a whisk.”
    “Use a fork. Stir your dry ingredients, and then, in a different bowl, stir your wet ingredients, and then add them to the dry ingredients. Stir just until things are combined. Lumps are okay.” Judging by the rhythmic clanking coming from through the phone, she was stirring.
    He'd better catch up. Looking around, he couldn't find a bowl, so he grabbed a couple of pots, dumped the dry ingredients in, stirred, and then combined the wet. After he'd mixed the two together, he turned back to the phone. “Now what?”
    “You need to heat your griddle.”
    “I have a griddle?”
    “I have no idea, but if you don't, use a shallow, flat-bottomed pan.” Pans clanked together as she shuffled things on her end.
    Clint checked the drawer with the pots and pans, found a shallow pan with a lid, and pulled it out. “Do I need the lid?”
    “No. Put the pan on the stove on high heat and slap about a quarter of an inch of butter in the middle.” She took a deep breath. “FYI—I’m holding my breath to see if you have butter.”
    “Somebody sounds snotty.” He hadn’t meant to be flirty, but it sure sounded like it.
    “I’m sorry, did you say something? I’m half asleep because someone woke me up at the crack of dawn.” She yawned loudly.
    He checked his watch. “It’s seven forty-five right now. The sun came up over an hour ago.”
    “I bet you high-fived that big ball of light and welcomed the day with a bright smile.”
    “I am a morning person. After they teach us the secret handshake, we have to swear a blood oath to be cheerful from dawn until noon. I don’t make the rules.” He smiled to himself.
    “I knew it. So…” She turned serious. “What’s the secret to morning peppiness?”
    “Caffeine. It’s the drug of choice for all morning worshipers.” He crossed his left foot over his right and leaned against the cabinet. “Back to the pancakes…do I need salted or unsalted butter?” He only had unsalted, but she didn't know that.
    “Show-off.”
    Clint laughed. “Truth time. I only have unsalted, but I was trying to impress you. Just so you know, there are always plenty of eggs, protein powder, butter, and sugar in my house. Everything else is hit-or-miss.”
    “Sounds like we can be friends. Butter and sugar are my only requirements. Hell, you could be my BFF if it weren't for the protein powder.” Her tone was filled with mock disappointment.
    “If I agree to never bring it up again, can you forget it ever happened?” He liked her, damn if he didn't.
    “Sorry, some bells can't be unrung.” Butter sizzled in her pan.
    He’d never cooked with a woman, especially long distance. It was probably a thousand times better when she was here in person. He could picture it. Summer sleep-mussed and tousled from the incredible morning sex they’d just had, measuring out buttermilk as he stirred the dry ingredients. They’d laugh and talk about nothing. He looked around his kitchen. It would be a great way to start the day.
    Tossing a chunk of butter into the pan, he grinned. “You're my first phone sizzle.”
    “That's funny. I've been trying to come up with a hot cakes line, but phone sizzle is much better.”
    It