The Wolf in Sheep's Skin

Chapter 19

I carried it out of the pantry, to the kitchen. Jay was standing at the cutting board with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his forearms. He picked up a bit of carrot I’d chopped and wrinkled his nose at it.

“Here.” I held out the pink, ruffling apron. He looked at it, then met my eyes. I held it out closer to him and raised my brows, daring him to argue.

A smile tugged at his lips, and he grabbed the girly apron, and hung it over head, tying it in the back.

It was atrocious, pink and garish, with over-the-top white ruffles around the edge. Brown bunnies were in each of the bottom corners of the apron, surrounded by flowers.

He smirked down at it and went to the sink and washed his hands. I glared at his back and crossed my arms. He went to the cutting board, put the cleaver in the sink, and grabbed a different knife. Running his finger across the blade, he nodded, then began chopping.

He rocked the knife back and forth with more skill than mom had. Each slice of carrot was perfectly the same width, and he moved with fluid, confident motions.

I crept closer and glanced over his arm. I glared at his skillful hands, and he caught me, giving me a small smirk.

I scowled at him. He turned his attention back to his hands.

“You want the pieces to be the same size. That way, they’ll cook at the same rate.” He said to the carrots. I scoffed and leaned back.

“Are you some kind of chef?” I snorted.

“Cooking is an essential skill. Plus, when you’ve lived a long time, you gain hobbies and skills.” He shrugged and kept chopping.

“Your chopping might be impressive, but that doesn’t mean you’re a good cook. I bet your lemon bars are disgusting.” I lifted my chin and pursed my lips.

“Try them.” He raised his brows at me and grabbed a cast-iron skillet from a rack on the counter.

“I will! I’m sure they’re rotten, awful, even uglier than the cookies I made!” I stomped over to the kitchen table, where trays of desserts were laid out. Finding the tray he’d brought; I lifted the foil.

Perfectly square lemon bars looked up at me, vibrantly yellow and dusted with powdered sugar. I plucked one from the pile and went to the sink so I could spit it out.

He had the skillet on the stove and was putting his chopped carrots in it. He watched me with a hideously smug look on his face.

I bit the corner of the lemon bar and leaned over the sink. A burst of sweet, tangy citrus swept over my tongue, followed by rich, buttery crust. It had perfect texture, with a chewy crust and supple filling.

“I think I hate you.” I glared at him and took another bite.

“Bring me a few sage leaves, would you?” He chuckled.

I squinted at the little herb plants in the window. Which one’s sage? Didn’t mom always say it was the one with broad leaves? I plucked a few leaves from the plant with the biggest leaves and handed them to him. He raised a brow at me and held the leaf by the stem and twirled it between his thumb and finger.

“This is basil.” He sniffed it, then offered it to me to sniff.

“If you want a dress, I can make you a fine dandy one. I could make it in the perfect color to make your eyes pop.”

“Could you make it match my apron? The colors growing on me.” He held out the skirt part of the apron and grinned from ear to ear.

“It suits you.” I snapped back and scowled at him.

The back door clicked open, and my mom’s footsteps came closer.

“Is everything alright?” She called out and came into the kitchen. She froze in the doorway, gaping at Jay in his bright pink, ruffled bunny apron.

Jay raised a brow at me, and I eyed him.

“Everything’s fine.” I told her.

“He apologized?” She asked hesitantly.

“No! Is that why you came in here?” I glared at him.

“I did too.” He tilted his head and frowned at me.

“That wasn’t a real apology, and you know it!”

“Oh, right. I’m sorry for offending you.” He did a little bow to me. I crossed my arms and stuck out my chin.

“That isn’t a real apology either! You’re supposed to apologize for what you’ve done.” I put my hands on my hips and leaned in closer, narrowing my eyes. He met my eyes, and they sparkled, like he thought this was all very funny.

“I don’t apologize for telling the truth, or for things I meant. Even if I said it by accident.” He smirked and pointed towards the pantry. “Is the brown sugar in there?”

He turned and went to the pantry. My mom scrambled out of the way, still staring at his pink apron. She gave me a puzzled look, like she had questions she couldn’t ask.

My face was hot, and my brain was frazzled. Did he just say that? After all of that, and he still has to be a pompous *ss? My heart fluttered against my will, and something churned in my core. I scowled and stomped out of the room.

I went past her, into the dining room, grabbed another lemon bar, and went into the laundry room. I shoved the entire lemon bar in my mouth, making it difficult to chew.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to carry that?” My mom asked as footsteps came towards me.

“I’ve got it.”

Dusting my hands off on my apron, I peeled it off and tossed it into a laundry bin. They came into the laundry room. Jay was holding the cast-iron skillet with both hands, using the matching set of oven mitts that’d I’d made with the apron.

“Can you open the door, though?” He motioned to the door. My mom looked at him, flabbergasted. He looked garish with the bright pink apron and matching oven mitts.

“Why don’t you hand that to me so you can take that off?” She held out her hands, staring at the apron. He pulled the skillet closer to him.

“Didn’t you hear? This color suits me.” He gave her a toothy grin, turned, and opened the door with one hand while carrying the skillet with the other. He went out into the yard, and the door closed behind him.

“What did you say?” My mom whispered and stared at me with a baffled look. I grunted, still trying to swallow the lemon bar that made my cheeks puffed out. She shook her head and went out after him. I was close behind her.

Everyone stared at Jay as he walked confidently through the yard towards the tables. Food had been laid out, and dad was pulling the meat from the pits. He stood and watched Jay with the same baffled look my mom had.

We all helped set up the tables outside, one long table with adults and kids mixed together. I picked my seat next to Maeve, who wiggled her eyebrows at me. My face warmed, and I scowled at her. We sat near the end, by dad. Two empty seats were next to me, and my stomach tightened as Jay headed my direction. I stared at the other few empty chairs across the table, hoping he’d take one of them.

But he stopped next to me, making my skin tingle. My heart raced, and I glared at my empty plate.