Hidden Impact (Safeguard #1)(59)
She shook her head. “Didn’t have the ingredients to do it really well.”
“I would’ve gone out on a supply run for you.”
She hesitated and he heard her unspoken thoughts loud and clear. He wasn’t allowed to help anymore.
“I figured with the rainy weather, comfort food would go better.”
“The team will like whatever you make.” He tried to infuse his words with sincerity, since she’d probably bristle at reassurance. Walking on eggshells was not his strong suit. “It’s all been incredible so far.”
She gave him another small smile, and he let go his breath, happy she believed him.
They both fell silent then. He continued his research online, catching up on response emails to his queries and running a few specific searches. At the edge of his peripheral, Maylin went about dropping her uncooked rice in a blender complete with the water she’d used to soak it overnight. While it was blending, she took out a deep Dutch oven from the back of the cabinet and put a bunch of large spoons in the bottom. Gabe couldn’t figure out how the hell she’d be cooking with that setup. Next she took out a cake pan and greased it lightly with vegetable oil. Then he was really confused.
She set the Dutch oven on the stove over fire set to the highest setting and poured some water in it. As she turned away, he craned his neck to see inside. The water didn’t quite cover the rounded backs of the spoons on the bottom.
What the hell?
Next, the cake pan was set on top of the spoons with what looked like a thin layer of the rice batter she’d made. Then she covered the whole thing.
No idea what was going on there. But Maylin turned to other ingredients, browning ground pork and fresh minced garlic in a medium pot and filling the kitchen with savory scents to make his mouth water.
Gabe jerked when she turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow, and gave her a guilty grin. Caught staring. But hell, the magic she worked in a kitchen was beyond him.
“Do you mostly cook Asian foods?” Was that a safe question? Might not be.
But Maylin didn’t seem to mind. “I cook dishes from a lot of different cultures. I love Italian and Greek. But when I’m worried or anxious, I tend to fall back on the dishes I learned to make growing up. Less likely to mess those up when my mind is working through other things.”
Made sense. “Like any Brazilian dishes? Or Portuguese?”
“Love eating the food, not so good at cooking it...yet.” Maylin continued to work as she spoke, pouring water into the pot of browned meat and garlic. “I’d love to learn.”
“I’ve got a couple of dishes I remember.” Maybe. Sort of. “Really simple dishes.”
Maylin laughed. It was short and quiet, but it was still a laugh and he’d take it. “Simple is usually the best place to start with any new cuisine. I like to learn the basic foundation dishes and then build from there.”
Smart. Practical. Methodical in the way she approached things. And so very talented. He could see why her parents had thought she’d do well as a doctor. And he was very glad she’d followed her heart instead. People tended to lose some of their spark when they were forced into a profession they didn’t have a passion for, and he wanted to see Maylin happy.
“I take it you didn’t do much cooking as a kid.” Her statement was a hesitant invitation, and he was not going to pass it up. Not this time.
He owed her a few more pieces of himself.
“No. Not much. My dad worked and my mom was home until I hit high school. She wanted us to be the perfect white-bread family from the television show reruns she watched every day. Mostly she made sure we sat down to meals on a regular basis, even if we didn’t talk to each other any other time of the day.” His dad hadn’t been the “toss the ball around in the yard” type. He worked too hard.
“Did you ever help her in the kitchen?” Maylin lifted the cover on the Dutch oven, releasing a big cloud of steam. Reaching in with mitt-covered hands, she pulled out the cake pan and immediately flipped it onto a clean cutting board. A smooth, white circle fell flat on the board. She re-oiled the cake pan, poured more rice batter into it, and back it went into the Dutch oven. Then she returned to the stuff on the cutting board and rolled it with nimble fingers. Using a sharp knife, she cut it into half-inch-wide segments and dropped them into a bowl of water next to the sink.
He still had no idea what they were. “No. I was kind of a prick as a kid. Never occurred to me to do anything but my chores. And them only because I had to.” He’d been ungrateful.
“You were young.” The kindness she gave him was more than he deserved.
“I’ve had plenty of time to wish I’d been a better kid.”
A pause. “They’re gone now?”
“Yeah. Car accident when I was a freshman in high school.” And hitting the foster care system at that age had been a bitch.
“I’m sorry.” How was she still so sincere? So empathetic without smothering him with pity.
God, he didn’t want her pity.
“It is what it is. I was lucky to get foster care. Not gonna lie, though, it’s hard enough for young kids. No one wants you when you’re almost old enough to care for yourself. Especially when you’re angry at the world and not worth the trouble.”
“But someone did, I hope?”