Edge of Glory (Friendship, Texas Book 1) (13 page)

He laughed. "It says stroke on the back. Breast stroke."

My face heated up and I tried not to think about him stroking my breast and focused on my breathing instead, darting my eyes around the kitchen. "Um. Are you going to put on clothes?"

He grinned, a laugh escaping his full lips. "I'm actually more comfortable in this. I can put on shorts if you want."

"And maybe a shirt if we're going to be cooking."

I held the sweatpants in front of me and looked from the large pants to Jay. He must have gotten the hint because he slowly turned around and I quickly kicked off my panties, thanking God the long shirt covered my lady bits, then pulled the sweatpants on.

"You want me to cook? Didn’t your mom say never to get in the way of a Sicilian woman in the kitchen?" he asked over his shoulder.

I raised an eyebrow and walked around him until I was facing him again. "You don't think I'm going to do this all by myself do you?"

"You're not going to serve me?" That damn Wheaties box smile came out and I almost gave in.

"I don't think so, Morningstar. You've got to work."

"Oh, you're serious if you just referred to me by my last name like a teammate."

"I might not be able to do a breast stroke or whatever, but I'm pretty sure I can kick your ass at cooking."

I turned toward the kitchen and Jay's arms were immediately around my waist. His lips on my ear. "This may be the first time I look forward to losing."

"Uh, so where's the pantry?" I pulled away, not wanting to leave his warm body but as soon as I felt something very hard pressed against my butt, I figured it was better to move.

At least I knew how to cook. The other thing in the kitchen, I wasn't experienced with.

"To the right of the fridge. I'll let you go through that and I'll grab some clothes." There was a hint of sadness, an edge to his voice.

This man was going to leave his inexperienced girlfriend sooner or later. Part of me just wanted to give in, but it wasn't how I was raised. It wasn't how I thought.

A lot of girls I went to high school with were losing their virginity the first chance they had with a new boyfriend then cried when they broke their hearts a few months later.

I didn't want to be that girl. I wanted to give my whole heart, my whole everything to this guy, but I also didn't want it to break.

"So, find anything?" Jay was at my side, this time fully clothed in sweat pants and a tight-fitting t-shirt.

"Uh, well, y'all have the largest supply of macaroni and cheese in the world."

Jay picked up one of the many boxes. "Hey. It's carbs and it's easy to make. Cooking isn't exactly any of our strong suits."

I took the box out of his hand. "I guess it's good that I'm better than you at one thing."

"Then you'd better not teach me your secrets, or I might not keep you around." He smiled, but part of that hit me in the gut.

It shouldn't have. He was joking, but I wondered how long he would want a girl like me around. I had to push those thoughts out of my head and focus on something I was really good at, cooking.

I may suck with talking to boys or not being awkward, but I was one hell of a cook.

"Okay, I'm going to need a big stock pot and we're going to boil some salt water."

"Like from the pool?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh. No. Just get tap water and put salt in it."

He grinned. "Totally messing with you."

"Good. You may have lost points for not knowing that."

"Are we keeping score now? Because you know how much I love a competition." His grin was so wide he could practically split open. I'd never seen anyone this excited about my cooking, not even Sonny who would eat us out of house and home if he could.

"You're starting at zero, Morningstar." I picked out a few boxes of macaroni cheese and set them on the counter.

"Oh, come on!" he whined.

"Boil me some water and find a frying pan, then you'll get two points."

He opened a small cabinet near the fridge, pulling out the stockpot and a frying pan. "Extra points for speed?"

"If you can do some kind of flip while boiling water, maybe.” I grabbed a few bags of frozen chicken out of the freezer and set them on the counter.

"What is this? What are we doing?" Jay asked, standing at the sink and nodding toward the counter.

"We're going to do use the macaroni for pasta and then I'll fry up some chicken and make alfredo." I turned on the stove and set the frying pan down, scooping some butter onto the heating pan.

Jay grinned, setting the stockpot on the next burner. "I love it when you talk food to me."

"Now we're going to defrost the chicken in the microwave." I set a few breasts on a plate and then put the plate in the microwave that was mounted above the stove.

As soon as I shut the door, Jay placed a kiss on my lips.

"What was that for?" I asked.

He smiled. "Because it's not every day someone cooks for me. Wanna come over every day and save me from pizza and macaroni?"

"Are you going to use me for my cooking skills?"

He put his hands on my waist, turning me toward him. "I'm not using you for anything, Lia. I like being with you. I like cooking with you. I like everything we do together. Don't take this all so seriously."

Easier said than done when I kept finding myself searching for reasons that this gorgeous man would want anything to do with me.

"Hey! What's going on?" Scotty put his hands on Jay's shoulders.

"Lia and I are cooking," Jay said, turning on the burner.

"You? Cooking? Are you sick? Or are you poisoning us so you don't have competition?"

"I guess maybe you shouldn't eat the food if you think I'm poisoning you," I said, getting the chicken out of the microwave and putting it on the skillet.

"Oh, hell, is that butter and chicken?" Scotty stared over Jay's shoulder.

"Yep. Frying this up and we'll put it in the with macaroni noodles then I'll make some alfredo."

Scotty looked at Jay. "Dude, sorry, but your girlfriend totally just turned me on talking about food."

Jay smiled. "Yeah. She has the same effect on me."

After cooking and the boys devouring a few bowls of food, my clothes were finally dry. I stepped out of the bathroom, still getting a whiff of chlorine on my shirt.

"You know you don't have to leave..." Jay said, hooking a finger in my belt loop and pulling me closer.

"I've been here all day. You have to be sick of me or need to train or something."

"Naw. I could never get sick of you."

I couldn't see myself ever getting sick of him either. But the longer I stayed, the longer I wouldn't want to leave.

"We can get together again soon? Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow won't work for me..." His words trailed.

"Oh."

Crap. Was he expecting sex and now he was going to leave me and not want to see me again? Ugh. Why did I have to speak?

"But I can do Friday? I have practice in the morning and afternoon but can pick you up for dinner."

I internally sighed, thanking God I wasn't over thinking it. "Yeah. That sounds perfect as long as you're not doing the cooking."

Another night and another date with Jay. He wouldn't give me any details about where we were going for dinner or what was going on.

I was trying to play it cool but after our last night together, I made sure to put on extra deodorant and hoped I didn't sweat through it.

Dana insisted that if she was going to be working without me that she at least dressed me so that she could live vicariously through me.

If the heels weren't enough, she also wanted me to wear a lacy white top with a black leather jacket and skinny jeans. I looked like some kind of really off kilter biker's old lady, but Dana said it was cute.

I practically tripped down the stairs, making my way to the front door.

Of course Sonny had to be there first.

"Jaybird, you here to work out?" Sonny asked, doing some kind of weird bro-hug.

"As much as I'd like to take you up on it, I have reservations for me and Lia." Jay's arm went instinctively around my waist as soon as I got to the bottom of the stairs.

"Gross," Sonny muttered, not saying another word as he wandered off.

Jay's eyes trailed up my jeans and lingered over the too sparkly of necklace on my chest before his gaze met mine. "I've never seen you in this before."

"I know it's weird. I look stupid. It's Dana's. I should go change." I turned to head up the stairs, but Jay's hand was on my shoulder before I could.

"Relax, Lia. You're always so quick to think that I'm criticizing you or that someone is going to. I was just saying it's a different look."

I didn't know how to answer that but luckily Jay just smiled and pulled me toward his car. "Don't over think it. You look hot as always, so stop giving me a look like you want to stab me."

"I am not," I scoffed, but made sure to check out my face in the side mirror. I did have a tendency to have resting bitch face, but tried to smile more around Jay. Actually it wasn't that hard to smile. Every time I looked at him, I couldn't help but feel butterflies and just want to smile.

Jay turned on the car and I closed my door. "So are you going to tell me where we’re going?"

"Where do you think we're going?" He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before backing out of the driveway.

"You can't answer a question with a question. That's cheating."

"Well, we're going to Dallas. And eating. Somewhere."

I wrinkled my nose. "Still cheating."

He took my hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on each knuckle. "I never cheat. Just take a deep breath and enjoy the ride."

***

We pulled into the parking lot of a brick building that looked like a warehouse.

"Um...I don't think I've ever heard of this place."

Jay smiled and pulled into a parking spot. "Good. Then you'll be even more surprised."

I followed him out of the car and to a metal door, which led to a large, stainless steel commercial kitchen, but no one was cooking.

A few people were milling around, talking to different people in chef hats or white coats.

"What is this? Are we working for our food?" I whispered.

"You'll see." He squeezed my hand and I followed him to one of the prep tables where a short lady with a clipboard stood.

"Morningstar, two," he said, matter-of-factly.

The lady looked at the clipboard and checked it off, smiling. "Okay. I have you two on the red team with Chef McCoy."

She put the clipboard on the table and handed us each a red chef's hat and apron.

"Thanks, ma'am," Jay said, nodding before he put the chef hat and apron on.

"What is all of this?" I asked.

"Cooking competition class."

"A what?"

He laughed. "I told you I was competitive and you said I was a bad cook, so I found a Groupon for this thing where we get together with other couples, have a private chef, and compete to make a meal."

I looked around the room, seeing the other people in different colored aprons and hats, gathering with a different chef in a white hat. Then I looked at Jay whose eyes held a mixture of worry and excitement.

"Oh, we are so kicking their asses," I said.

Jay laughed. "Hell yeah we are."

He took my hand and we walked over to where our chef was standing in a red hat and coat.

"Chef, I'm Jay and this is my girlfriend, Lia."

"Ah, the swimmer has come to join my team. I hope your skills in the pool transcend to the kitchen," the tattooed chef said in a thick French accent.

Jay put his arm around me. "I'm not the best at cooking but luckily I brought my girlfriend who assures me that we're going to take out the other team."

"You are a chef?" Chef McCoy asked.

"Um, well my parents own a restaurant in the suburbs."

Chef McCoy smiled. "That’ll work. Let's take down the other teams, Reds."

We followed Chef McCoy to a large, metal table where a few ingredients sat and behind us were rows of stoves and a few fridges.

A woman in a suit stepped in front of us and raised her hands until everyone took their places behind different prep tables. There were around six or seven couples, each with a different color hat and apron and their own personal chef. When everyone was quiet, the woman in the suit smiled.

"Welcome to this month's Creative Cooking Challenge. Each couple has been divided into teams and will work with your own personal chef to create a masterpiece. This month's theme is Texas comfort food. You'll have fifteen minutes to discuss with your chef and then an hour to cook enough for thirty people. When the time is up, we'll sample everyone's dish to choose a winner. Good luck."

We gathered around our table and looked at Chef McCoy. "Ideas? What do you say, swimming superstar? Any preferences?" Chef McCoy asked.

"How about migas?" I interrupted.

Chef McCoy turned toward me, raising a very meticulously shaped eyebrow.

"Okay, it's not a dinner food, but I'd consider it Tex-Mex comfort food and we could put a new spin on it,” I offered.

Chef McCoy looked at me for a few minutes before a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Migas it is. I hope your chef skills are as good as the swimmer tells me."

"Let's hope," I said, sucking in a deep breath.

Jay laughed. "I'm not even sure I know what that is."

Chef McCoy shook his head, pulling some ingredients out of a large, metal rack. "Chef Girl, you need to educate your man on Texas cuisine."

I smiled, turning toward Jay. "It's basically eggs, different peppers, and tortilla strips all fried up then topped with sour cream and salsa or hot sauce. My mom makes it with added garlic, onions, and homemade sugo on top."

"I like the way you think, Chef Girl," Chef McCoy said, coming back to the table with a carton of eggs, peppers, and cheese.

I shrugged. "I guess growing up around food is good for something."

Chef McCoy handed Jay a pepper. "If I have you dice this, will you break something?"

"I can't promise that," he replied.

Chef McCoy turned toward me. "I take it you got the brains and the beauty in the relationship?"

"Uhhhh..."

Jay put his arm around me. "Relax, Lia. He knows what he's talking about."

"I assume you know the proper way to cut your vegetables?" Chef McCoy asked, picking up a green pepper.

"Get a knife and chop?" Jay asked.

Chef McCoy smirked, shaking his head before he pulled out a cutting board and set it on the table.

He then pulled out a knife and held up the pepper in one hand. "First we cut off the top then the bottom."

He sliced both sides off, talking as he worked. "Then we open the pepper to expose the inside and slice out the guts. You see? Now it's flattened and easier to cut into strips."

"Huh, never thought about it that way," Jay said, picking up the other pepper.

"Yeah. My mom just kind of cuts it all angry and fast like. She's an angry Sicilian ninja."

Jay laughed and Chef McCoy shook his head. "You can flirt when we're done cooking."

"Sometimes I can do more than one thing at a time," Jay said, bumping my shoulder.

Chef McCoy glared at us like we were two kids talking in class, which just made Jay laugh harder.

"Okay. We chop up these peppers and fry them in the pan with garlic, olive oil, and onions before we add the eggs," Chef McCoy said.

"Aye, Aye, Chef," Jay said, doing a mock salute.

I handed Jay another pepper and grabbed an onion. "If I start crying, it's not because of you."

"The only time I want to see you cry around me is because of an onion," Jay said, a lazy smile crossing his face.

"Aren't you two just precious?" Chef McCoy mocked.

"Don't be jealous, Chef. We can share the love," Jay said.

"Maybe after you two are finished cooking."

Jay and I worked side-by-side, cutting and sautéing vegetables. I was used to cooking next to my mother and a lot of arguing in the kitchen. I'd never had a partner to cook with or one that actually asked my opinions, like I was the expert.

While the vegetables cooked, Jay slowly cracked some eggs into the pan and I started simmering a pot of tomatoes and chilies.

"What's that?" Jay asked.

"Sugo. Or I guess you would call it spaghetti sauce. I'm using Nonna's recipe, so don't tell her."

"I'm totally telling her. I’ll learn Italian just for that reason."

I shook my head but couldn't help but smile. "Italian has so many different versions with slang and the different regions, most of it is such a mix. It’d be hard to learn the right words."

"
Na lingua sula mai abbasta
," he said with a very rough Italian accent.

I dropped my wooden spoon and turned toward him. "Did you just mean to say
one language is never enough
in Italian?"

He smiled. "I didn't butcher it too bad, did I? I've been listening to some Rosetta Stone during practice. Scotty ordered these waterproof headphones with an MP3 player and usually I like the silence, but this—"

I cut off his words by wrapping my arms around him and placing a kiss on his lips. He smiled beneath my mouth but then immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around my waist.

Never had someone gone through this much trouble for me. Cooking classes. Learning Italian. Even putting up with my family. Jay Morningstar was the epitome of perfect and I was afraid of how hard I was falling for him.

"Okay, break it up you two, you can celebrate after dinner is ready," Chef McCoy said, snapping his fingers.

I didn't want to ever let go and it seemed like Jay didn't either, because he found ways to have his hand on mine all night. Which would have annoyed me if it were anyone else. But I couldn’t get enough of Jay.

It wasn’t exactly my finest presentation of Migas, but compared to the other couples and each of their different versions of barbecue, it at least stood out in the crowd.

All of us had to place our dishes on a long table and then we had to take a sample of everyone’s dish. After we plated our food, all of the couples sat at one table and the chefs sat at another one. Like they were the head table at some bizarre wedding.

“So our choices are eggs, barbecue, barbecue, or oh, barbecue!” Jay said, raising his fork.

An older woman with bright blonde hair smirked across the table. “Ha, ha. Okay, you two win for most original.”

The guy next to her with the very thick hipster beard nudged her arm. “Don’t say that yet. They haven’t tasted our brisket.”

I took a sharp inhale before picking up the migas with my fork. It was very cheesy, the strands sticking to the plate before I twirled it on the fork and popped it into my mouth.

A little spicy. A little garlicky. Almost perfect.

The guy across the table nodded, his eyes widening. “Okay, so maybe you won for most original and best tasting.”

The woman spit something into her napkin. “Yeah, I don’t think ours is winning for the best taste.”

I laughed. “I guess we just had a good chef.”

Jay shook his head. “Don’t be so modest.”

He looked at the couples around the table. “My girlfriend’s parents own a really good Italian restaurant in Friendship.”

“Friendship? I’ve never heard of it.” a younger woman asked from the other side of Jay.

“It’s in the northeast suburbs. About fifteen miles from Rockwall,” Jay replied.

“What’s the restaurant called?” the guy with her asked.

“Conti’s,” Jay answered.

I’d never had the attention on me. I was used to people surrounding Jay, but the more we ate, the more people around the table asked about the migas, the recipe, and where in the hell Friendship, Texas was.

When we’d finished our food, the woman in the suit came, passing each of us note cards. “Okay, contestants. The judges have scored their favorites. Now it’s your turn. Pick one for most original. One for best tasting. One for overall best in show.”