Free Inferno Anthology by Jessica Sorensen, Aleatha Romig, Kailin Gow, Cassia Leo, Lacey Weatherford, Liv Morris, Vi Keeland, Kimberly Knight, Addison Moore, Laurelin Paige Page A

by.”
    “Isn’t that the whole idea?” She opened the pantry door and peered inside. Among the various bottles of fancy oils and vinegars, the many jars of rare ingredients, spices and herbs and the few more common every day items, she found a bottle of molasses. “I just found something rather vulgar in your pantry, Errol.”
    He cocked a brow as he looked at her. A boyish grin made a quick appearance on his face before dashing off to leave room for a smirk. “Just because I enjoy a little molasses on my buckwheat pancakes every once in a while doesn’t mean it’s a good idea for this recipe.”
    “Buckwheat pancakes? You?”
    “Just because I’m a culinary genius doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a little comfort food once in a while.”
    Taryn grabbed the bottle of molasses and brought it to their working space. “I think this will work. Are you ready to give it a shot?”
    He looked at the bottle then at her. “I honestly don’t think the flavor is going to harmonize well with the…”
    “Goo?” she finished for him.
    “Right,” he said with a chuckle.
    Ignoring his doubt and skepticism, Taryn placed a small saucepan on the stovetop, threw in a generous pat of butter and gently melted it. When it was reduced to a golden liquid, she opened the bottle of molasses. “Just a soupcon,” she said as she poured a small dollop in.
    “Why do I have a feeling you’re about to ruin the last batch?”
    “Because you’re a cynical old man hiding in the body of…” She caught herself and looked sheepishly at him.
    “The body of…?” he said as he rolled his hand in the air, urging her to continue.
    With a nonchalant shrug she dipped her pastry brush into the now black butter. “The body of a young guy. That’s all.”
    “Hmm.” He watched the workings of her brush. “I’m not really sure that’s the look I was going for.”
    “Once it’s cooked, it won’t look that bad.”
    “We’ll see.”
    With a very Parisian ‘voila,’ Taryn opened the oven, popped in the cookie sheet and shut the door. “In eight minutes you’ll have your crispy goo.”
    Facing one another, they leaned against the counter, waiting.
    “You know, if this doesn’t work out, I have half a mind to shower you with the remainder of that molasses.”
    “In…” In dramatic fashion, Taryn raised her wrist to her face and looked at her watch. “Four minutes, mon cher Errol , I’ll make you eat your words.”
    “Of course you will. I’ll have nothing else to eat because you’ll have ruined my last batch.” Grinning, he drummed his fingers on the stovetop.
    “Why, the nerve…” She pushed the rolling pin aside and picked up a fistful of flour.
    “Ah, ah, ah,” Errol chanted as he waved a finger at her. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
    “No,” she argued. “If it were you, you would have pushed the flour aside and tossed me the rolling pin.”
    He bellowed with laughter, a laugh that came from the depths of his being; a laugh that was innocent and playful; a laugh she’d never heard before.
    “I think you’re getting to know me a little too well.” He looked at his watch. “The moment of truth has arrived.”
    Taryn threw her fistful of flour on the counter and clapped her hands clean. Feeling triumphant, she opened the oven door, but quickly shut it again.
    “What’s the matter?” Errol said with a knowing grin.
    “They’re not ready yet.”
    “That’s impossible. They’ve been in there the full eight minutes.” He reached for the oven door.
    “I said they’re not ready.” Putting her hand over his she tried to keep him from opening the door.
    “Another few minutes won’t salvage your disaster, Taryn.” He opened the door and smiled as he pulled out the cookie sheet. “Perhaps when I mentioned that I wanted them crispy and not crunchy, I should have also mentioned that I wanted them golden… not tarred.”
    She looked at the unappetizing result of her inspiration. “Sorry.”
    His