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“I think if you threw in some cupcakes, that would make it a fair balance.” I glanced toward Ford as he was looking up from his phone. There was no question where his stare landed—I could feel it on every part of my body. “Chocolate cupcakes, that is.” “He’d love that a whole lotskies.” It took everything I had to glance away from him. “Miss Chef, do you think the pancakes are done?” She shrugged. “Do you know how to check?” “Nope.” I led her hand toward the pan and helped her lift the edge of a pancake. “You’re looking to see if it’s the right color. Too light—you risk the chance of the middle still being raw. Too dark—that means it’s burned or on the verge.” I lifted another one to compare. “How do these look to you?” “Yuuummy.” I laughed. “You’re right about that. Are they done?
- Writer
