I’m in the kitchen, making Beef Bourguignon, when I hear West whistling as he moves through the house.
I smile a little, hoping he likes what I’m making for dinner as a thank you for the cookware.
“I smell something amazing,” he says as he walks over the threshold.
“Beef Bourguignon,” I say, but my mouth is full because I just tasted a little, so my words come out a little muffled.
West laughs. “Do I get a taste?”
“Of course. I made it as a thank you for the cookware.”
I pick up a piece of beef with my fingers and hold it out to him. I realized too late that I should have taken out a spoon. I know that’s what the professionals do, but I’m still an amateur.
West’s eyes widen and he chuckles a little as he leans forward. I figure he’ll use his teeth to take it from me with little to
