Cold Outside

9 - Onion

Did it look as if she was running for the door? Had he tried to reach her? Is that why he knew that her number had changed? She had been off kilter since she looked up and saw his face. He made a frittata! Was he teasing her? She wanted to ask about Hayley, but she would sound like a lover scorned.

She spent the afternoon pursuing websites for gala decorations. Each year the theme was different, but they were all similar - snowflakes or winter wonderland. Last year was an ice palace, and she had ice sculptures around the room.

She found some great ideas for the Cold Outside theme. She took the theme from the famous song that was always being played at Christmas when it wasn't a Christmas song at all. She liked that the venue, her term, so she didn't have to think of Oliver, had a gas fireplace. She noticed it was on the other evening. The theme would need to be conveyed through the food and that thought brought her right back to Oliver. He was haunting her thoughts. She'd wait a few days to text him. She didn't want to seem overeager.

She had spent the entire afternoon on her laptop. She knew Lucas would want to go out because it was Saturday night. She would rather stay in although she was not a great cook. She knew the basics and a few tricks, that she had learned from Oliver. She sighed at the memory. Lucas could cook about as well as her and the two of them did rather well when they cooked together. Not long after they first met she impressed him with her ability to chop an onion, professionally.

When he asked how she had learned it, she teasingly said, "I once dated a guy in culinary school. He taught me a few tricks." She boldly left Lucas to wonder if all the tricks were for the kitchen.

Late in the afternoon, Lucas called. It was already dark outside and cold.

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"I'm not in the mood for much. Takeout?" She crossed her fingers.

"That sounds good. It's starting to snow. I'll pick something up on my way home."

"Thanks, that sounds wonderful!" She loved him, which filled her with regret.

Lucas returned with a brown bag. Eyeing it, she asked, "Where did you stop?"

"I wanted the duck the other night."

"You got takeout from Les Bistros Français! I wouldn't think they did takeout!"

"Well not normally, but I called Oliver. We're friends." He looked proud of himself, almost smug.

"So you called a chef on a busy Saturday night and ordered your own personal takeout. What did you get for me?"

"First, I called just after five, so not quite the prime dining hour. He was happy to do it. I went to the back door, and he handed me the bag. He said that we could settle up later."

"So?"

"What do you care? You don't even like him."

"Not true. I met with him today. You knew I was. It went fine. The gala will be fine. Now what am I eating?" she asked again.

She really didn't know if Lucas upset her because he took advantage of a friendship or because now Oliver knew, they were sharing a night in.

"I'm not sure. I told him to give you whatever woman like to eat."

"You what?" Could he not even order her a meal? What did Oliver think?

"Here look." He pulled a container with her name written across the top. Inside was a burger on a nice crusty baguette and french fries sprinkled with truffle oil. Why was he playing with her like this? Was he trying to upset her? If he was, it was working. Still, her tongue danced over the cheese, the sauce and the onion toppings.

The next time Oliver cooked for her he grilled hamburgers. She remembered her butterflies and her heart racing.

Bethany raced home and showered when her shift ended at seven. She had bought a six-pack of her favorite summer ale and had just taken her first sip when he arrived. He stood on her porch with two grocery bags in his arms. He was wearing shorts and a Metallica tee shirt. Somehow she hadn't envisioned him as a hard rock guy.

"I like all kinds of music, except perhaps country. Don't tell me you like country."

"Only some, I'm more of an alternative girl."

"Later maybe, you'll let me look at your playlist, but now the chef has work to do."

Somehow she thought it sounded suggestive, but she recovered and teased him. "You're not a chef yet."

"True, but tonight I am in charge of this kitchen. You can be my sous chef." He explained to her the roles in a kitchen.

He asked her to chop an onion, but then he stopped her. She felt him against her back as he reached around and took her hands in his and demonstrated. He was a half a foot taller than her, so he was leaning over a bit. Still, she could smell his scent of soap mixed with the pungent smell of the onion. When he had finished his demonstration she tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but he grabbed her hands.

Turning her toward him, he looked down at her. "Use a tissue or the juice on your fingers will get in your eye and make it worse."

As he was looking down at her, she wanted him to kiss her, but he let her go. She wiped her eyes.

"Okay Chef, what's next and please don't make me cry again."

They worked together and sat down to the most amazing hamburger she had ever had. He had mixed a sauce that was divine.

"I hope you like onion."

She thought of him behind her as they cut the onion. "I love them." After a pause, she said, "So tell me about your girlfriend."