Free In Love with a Gentleman by Elisa Ellen

someone at the kitchen door and look over quickly. It’s Ethan Derby, leaning on the door frame. He’s watching us carry on with our nonsense.
    “Hi,” I say, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically shy. “We’re almost ready to deliver the first batch.”
    “Beautiful,” he says. Then he turns around and disappears.
    Catherine spoons some more batter into the pans. “Huh,” she says. “That’s one beautiful man. If my Christian knew that such a handsome Englishman was hanging around us, he wouldn’t sleep at night.”
    “Hmm,” I answer, but I feel my cheeks burning. I hope Catherine thinks it’s from the heat in the kitchen. I must admit that Catherine is totally right. Ethan is really attractive. I wonder if he’s dating the Amy girl?
    “He’s probably already taken,” I say despondently as I vigorously stir the batter.
    “No, he’s not,” says Anne. She’s peeking through the door into the kitchen. Darn! She obviously overheard our conversation.
    “He claims that he still hasn’t found ‘Miss Right,’” Anne sighs. I get the impression that she’d like to be the one. “Can I steal those crêpes?” she asks.
    “Yes,” says Catherine, “and take this jam, too. Make sure everybody gets some.” She presses the jar into Anne’s hand.
    “The crêpe idea was actually pretty silly,” I say to Catherine after Anne leaves.
    “Why?”
    “Because we don’t have time to socialize with the other teachers. We’re in the kitchen, reeking of fried fat, while everybody else hangs out in the living room.”
    Catherine pushes her hair away from her forehead with the back of her hand. “True. Come on. Let’s finish up so that we can sit with the others.”
    We work silently. I don’t toss any more crêpes into the air. The cat watches us longingly but in vain. Anne goes back and forth between the kitchen and living room to pick up and serve crêpes.
    “They’re fantastic,” she says. “Our compliments to the chefs.”
    After half an hour, we’ve used up all the batter. Catherine and I prepare the last few crêpes for ourselves and go into the living room.
    The diners greet us with applause. “They were delicious, tasty, so good,” everyone says.
    “Thank you,” Catherine says politely.
    “Unfortunately, we’re one short,” a voice pipes up from the sofa. “The cat ate it.”
    Irritated, I look in that direction and see Ethan. I begin a witty retort by saying something like, “Wrong! We made it for him, of course,” but I realize that Ethan’s not smiling. He looks almost stern. Hello ,I think, is he serious? What’s up with that ? I consider apologizing, but I bite my tongue. The hell with that! The whole episode was hilarious, and I find myself fighting the urge to giggle—especially when I think of the cat!
    I cheerfully plop myself down on the narrow couch next to Catherine. We savor the crêpes while all around us everybody’s laughing and chatting. I concentrate on my food. Anne is right. These really are the best crêpes I’ve ever eaten. The warm, sugary dough practically melts in my mouth. I close my eyes and taste a hint of cognac. The floral note is very subtle and delicate. The cherry jam goes well with the buttery taste of the crêpes. Mmm. I’m almost delirious.
    I open my eyes. Everyone is happily chatting, but only one person is silent—Ethan. His eyes rest on my face, questioning and pensive. I quickly lower my gaze and stare at my plate. Crap!He’s been watching me devour my crêpes. How embarrassing! He probably thinks that I’m some kind of bulimic with a crêpe fetish. My first impulse is to quickly finish up my crêpes. But something inside me rebels. Why should I spoil my own enjoyment for him? What do I care what this guy thinks? So I continue to savor my crêpes. I refuse to look in his direction but focus on my plate instead.
    Catherine whispers to me, “Ethan’s been staring at you this whole time, Lea.”
    “Probably because he thinks I’m