Parental Guidance (Ice Knights #1)(32)

Caleb shook the other man’s hand. “I have to warn you, my best kitchen skill is making a mean boxed mashed potatoes.”

“Well, you’re going to walk out of here today knowing a little bit more than that.”

The chef gave Zara a hug, and the two chatted like old friends for a few minutes before he moved on to greet the other couples.

Zara leaned in close. “Not quite the den of inequity you were expecting.”

“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” What could he say? His brain went a totally different direction than it should when he was around her.

One red eyebrow went up. “Highly doubtful.”

Pointing out the scenes with the miniatures, he asked, “So the art is yours, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, they’re mine.” Her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. “John’s grandmother was one of my first customers at my Etsy store. When John made the list of the hottest chefs in Harbor City, she commissioned the dioramas showing his journey.”

“It’s pretty amazing.” The detailing in each scene blew him away, right down to the bowls of pho, the shoes by the door, and the love that seemed to permeate all of it.

“It was the first piece I was ever commissioned to do.” She pointed to the scene of two parents bringing home a baby wrapped up in the same pink, blue, and white blanket his sisters had come home from the hospital in. “Up until then, everything was accessories and dolls for others’ scenes.”

“Why not your own?” The woman was talented beyond belief. She really needed to do more of her own art like these.

She shrugged, letting out a weary sigh before giving him a smile that had a brittle edge to it. “That’s a long story, and we’re here to make bún bò Huê. It’s the best noodle soup you’ll ever have. It has pork hocks, beef shanks, cubes of congealed pork blood, a deliciously spicy broth, and a sate chili sauce made with annatto seeds. It’s so good.”

Judging by the look of foodie bliss on her face, he had to believe her. For the next four hours, they moved around the kitchen, working together as he did with his teammates on the ice.

There was an easy flow between them as they sliced, diced, mixed, and boiled the soup. She teased him about stripping while he pounded the lemongrass stalks to release their oil. He told her about Phillips’s on-again, off-again dating drama with Marti, asking for a woman’s advice to pass along. She’d snorted and told him that dating advice was not her thing—maybe he should ask his mom.

Then they ate their creation in the dining room, and it was heaven. “You were not lying. This is really good.”

“Better than boxed mashed potatoes?” Zara asked, pointedly looking at his empty bowl that he’d practically licked clean.

“Without a doubt.” He rubbed his very full stomach. “Now all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch Law and Order while I pet a super-smart dog’s belly.”

She rolled her eyes. “That was oddly specific.”

“Oh no, you saw through me.” He added a melodramatic gasp for good measure. “What do you say? My place is across the harbor in Waterbury. Let me recuperate for a bit at your place?”

For a moment, she just stared at him, no doubt trying to give him her best evil eye. The bún bò Huê had obviously done its magic, though, and put her in the best of moods, because the corners of her mouth curled upward even as she gave him a minimal stink eye.

“Coming over to watch TV is not in the rules,” she said.

“It’s not against them, either, because it won’t be a date. It’s just us watching a show minus FaceTime. Exactly what we’ve already done.”

Another minor stare off before she laughed, the sound even better than the buzzer after a goal.

“I really should have been more specific when we made that list,” she said with a chuckle before standing up and pointing at the containers of leftover bún bò Huê. “You’re carrying that on the train back to my apartment.”

This wasn’t the best idea he’d ever had. He had to face it: spending time alone with Zara was just asking for trouble. It was hard enough to keep from picturing her naked when they were in a kitchen full of people and boiling broth. Of course, that wasn’t about to stop him from going home with Zara, where he would sit on his end of the couch and she would be on the other and that small horse of a dog of hers would be between them, like a furry chaperone.

Everything would be fine.

…

The loud snuffling on the other side of her apartment door followed by a muffled woof meant Zara’s arrival home wasn’t a surprise. It never was. Anchovy always knew when she was here—and when she had company.

“So, a word of warning.” She slid her key into the dead bolt. “Anchovy thinks he’s a lapdog and that personal boundaries are a myth.”

Caleb nodded, seemingly not worried at all, and she opened the door. Anchovy gave her a hearty bark of a greeting that would no doubt get her a nasty gram from Mr. Tottingham next door. Then he started to do the zoomies around the couch and the kitchen island, occasionally stopping to accept a quick behind-the-ear scratch from both of them.

“Have you been gone for a long time?” Caleb asked when Anchovy ducked his big head under her bed and came back with the already mauled neon-green ball her dad had given him yesterday.