Free Devour Me (Master Chefs Series #1) by Kailin Gow Page B

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
eyes hardened with displeasure.  “I think you can take your apron off now,” he
said in a tone that nearly demolished her.  “You’re finished here.”
    “Errol…”
She hesitated a moment, remembering she’d not put on a bra under her cami that
morning. Another harsh glare from Errol, however, and she untied her apron,
pulled it over her head and set it on the counter.  “I was only trying to…”
    He
put up a silencing finger.
    “Do
you want me to leave?”
    “On
the contrary. I want you to stay and learn.”
    He
set the cookie sheet on the stove and reached for the bottle of molasses. Turning
the bottle over, he read the label then tilted the bottle one side and the
other, letting the thick liquid run along the walls of the bottle.
    Watching
him, she tried to gauge his mood.  Was he truly disappointed in the result? 
Angry even?  Or was he toying with her?
    With
a quick sniff in the air, he looked into the saucepan she’d used then dipped
his finger into the buttery molasses. He looked at it, smelled it then tasted
it.  Without saying a word, he wiped his finger off on a towel then uncapped
the bottle and smelled it.
    As
if looking for something, he ran his finger along the edge of the bottle
cleaning off the few sticky drops that remained.  He licked his finger,
flapping his lips together as he tasted.  “I guess there is a certain…”  He
puckered and swished his tongue around his mouth.  “A certain je ne sais
quoi about the flavor of molasses.”
    “Just
because they look a little funny doesn’t mean they won’t taste good,” Taryn
said with complete lack of conviction.  “Why don’t you try…?”
    Errol
put his hand up to quiet her and continued to examine the bottle of molasses. “Dark,
sticky, sweet,” he murmured.  He turned the bottle upside down and let a large
dollop drop over his fingers.
    Glaring
at her, he held up his molasses covered fingers.  “Do you see how utterly
opaque this is?”
    “Yes,”
she muttered.
    “You
can’t even see my fingers through this black goo.”
    “I
thought that, maybe, with the melted butter it would…”
    “Honey
is golden and translucent.  Maple syrup is amber and clear.  But this…?”
    “I’ll
be sure never to make the same mistake again.”
    Without
warning, Errol reached out and slathered the molasses over her chest from one
shoulder to the other.
    “I
want you to remember this day, Taryn.”
    “I
will.”  She glanced down.  The molasses had already reached the top of her
white cami.  She didn’t know whether she should