Bentley (Hawthorne Brothers Book One)(19)

With the engine getting warmer, I put on my seatbelt and pulled out of the parking lot towards Bentley’s house, where the lights were all on as I pulled up to the curb and looked inside. I could see him walking around through the open windows. I smiled and watched him suffer. He looked at the clock, it just about to strike seven, before I decided to end his misery and go inside.

He came almost instantly to the door as I rang the doorbell. The door swung open and I met his smiling face.

“Come get out of that cold,” he said as I walked inside.

I gave him a kiss, my hand resting on his stomach, before he closed the door and I felt the warmth of his home envelop me.

“So, what are we doing?” I asked.

“Keep that on,” he said as I went to take off my coat.

“Oh, we’re going somewhere?” I asked.

“You could say that. I think you’ll enjoy it,” he said.

“Any hints?” I asked.

“Well, it’s kind of a class,” he said.

“A class?” I asked, confused.

“Yes, a class. A cooking class. We get expert instruction and have fun making a few treats, and then they finish cooking them and serve them to us. A coworker told me that he and his wife did it last year and really had a lot of fun. I hope that’s okay,” he said.

“That sounds fun,” I said, smiling.

“Are you sure? I know it’s not traditional,” he said, almost as if he thought I hated the idea.

“Bentley, it’s fine. I know we’ll have fun,” I said, reassuring him.

“Good, then let’s get going before we’re late,” he said as he slipped on his coat.

He turned off a few lights before we went outside and he opened the passenger-side door for me. I thanked him, and he held my hand and helped me inside. The cold leather of the seat pushed against the backs of my thighs and made me shiver a little bit.

“Where’s the place at?” I asked as he got inside.

“Not too far from here, downtown,” he said, starting the car and backing out of the driveway.

“So you heard about it from a coworker?” I asked.

“Yes, if you’re trying to see if I’ve taken anyone else to it,” he said, laughing a little. “I promise I haven’t.”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking that,” I said.

“It’s fine, Anna. I’d be mad if you took me to do things you and other guys have done together, especially if it was something romantic. No worries,” he said, reaching over and grabbing my hand.

I felt my cheeks warm up a little, as I wasn’t sure if I was blushing because of embarrassment or because he was holding my hand and being affectionate. I suppose both of those were good reasons to blush.

We soon pulled up to the building, and Bentley parallel-parked into a space and got out to pay the meter before he opened my door and helped me out of the car like a true gentleman.

“It’s right here,” he said as I looked at the building in front of us.

The windows were clear, so I could see the other couples standing around and drinking wine while talking to one another. I felt a little nervous, as I only saw one other couple that looked anywhere close to our age. I was pretty sure I was going to be the youngest in there.

“May I have your name, please?” the man asked as we walked in.

“Bentley Hawthorne, here for the class,” he said.

“Ah yes, you’re our last couple. Please find an apron you like, and feel free to pour yourself a glass of wine. I will let the chef know you’re here,” the man said with a smile before walking away.

We hung up our coats and I stashed my purse before we grabbed crisp white aprons and put them on.

“I didn’t know how great you looked in an apron,” he said.

“If you’re trying to butter me up to do stuff at your place, it’s not working,” I said, winking.

He laughed, and we each grabbed a glass of white wine before walking over to an empty station as the chef walked out with his hands together and a huge smile on his face.

“Welcome, welcome, I hope you all are having a lovely evening thus far. If you’ve never done one of these before, let me tell you how it works. First, my name is Chef Erik, and I’ll be overseeing and guiding you all tonight. I have a few sous chefs who will also be walking around and helping you should you need it, so don’t hesitate to ask them for their help. That’s what they’re here for, after all. How this works is very simple. We have a menu, and you will be given recipes and ingredients to make these meals. You will have an appetizer, entree, and dessert, though we make the dessert, as it is very complex and advanced. We cook all the food to make sure it’s done correctly and not burnt, but everything else is up to you, aside from cleanup, of course,” he said with a hearty chuckle. “Once you’re done, please feel free to go to the roof and wait as our waiters serve you and bring you your meals. You will have a great view of the city lights, and an even better view of Main Park, where I understand the lights are a magnificent sight. Without further ado, though, let’s get started.”

People, who I guessed were the sous chefs, came around and handed out ingredients and tools. I took out some of the recipe cards and instructions and began to read them.

“Look hard?” Bentley asked.

“I think we can handle it just fine,” I said.

“We can handle anything, so long as we’re together,” he said.

Looking at him while he looked at the cards, I leaned in and kissed his cheek softly, it as smooth as a baby’s bottom, before I pulled away and saw him smiling just a little bit. He was truly the best.

“So it looks like we need to start with these vegetables. We have to cut them like this,” he said, pointing to the directions.

They were each supposed to be cut a different way. There were peppers, onions, mushrooms, squash, and some green onions. Bentley said he was better at chopping, so he took the onions and squash, and I took the peppers, green onions, and mushrooms because I thought I’d have an easier time with the less intensive cuts. The produce was prime, none of it even having a single blemish or mark, like they’d just come out of the Earth and were in the most pure and pristine state.

The atmosphere was fun and giggly, as the couples seemed to keep to themselves and get close with another, trading kisses and compliments between cuts. Bentley and I did the same thing, much to my happiness.

“You look really pretty, you know,” he said. “I love your hair.”

“All for you, Mr. Sexy Black Shirt,” I said, hip-bumping him softly.

“I know you weren’t thrilled at the time, but I’m so glad you had car trouble,” he said, smiling, looking down as he cut up the squash.

“I know, right? To think this wouldn’t be happening right now had I not been so careless with that battery. Had I changed it when I was originally going to, I never would’ve broken down and we might’ve just driven past one another on that road. Makes you appreciative, you know? To know that my life is so much better and happier now because of that negligence,” I said.

“So you’re a lot happier?” he asked.

“Of course. You make my life so much better, you don’t even know,” I said.

“Well, for what it’s worth, you make my life better than I ever thought it could be. We haven’t even known each other all that long in the grand scheme of things, but I almost can’t remember what my life was like before I met you,” he said.

“Okay, now that all of you look to be done with your vegetables, please start on your protein if you haven’t already. Remember about salmonella! Be careful!” the chef said from nearby.

“Have you ever noticed how it’s called salmonella, even though it’s mostly found on poultry? Shouldn’t it be called chickenella?” Bentley whispered, making me laugh and snort.

Some of the other couples looked at me, and Bentley let out a sort of silent laugh as he tried to hold it in. I put my forearm up to my face, laughing into it, before they went back to their work and I shoved Bentley with my elbow.

“You’re so stupid,” I said, laughing.

“You were the one snorting, you know,” he said.

“Shut up!” I said, as he pulled the chicken from the bag.

It had been sitting in a darker liquid inside the bag, marinating. I pulled out the protein card we had and saw it needed to be chopped up into cubes, which I let Bentley do, mostly because I despised touching raw chicken. Something about the slimy texture got to me.

I took another sip, or five, of wine before setting down my glass and working on the sauce over the stove while Bentley prepared some of the ingredients and read off the card. Even though I was working more in the kitchen than I think I ever had, I had to admit that I was having a lot of fun. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was just because I was with Bentley and my nights were always a blast with him, but I didn’t mind it at all, which was saying something for a girl who never cooked.

I stirred the pot as he put in some ingredients, what I didn’t know, and it became a little thicker, a dark chocolate-like brown, before I turned down the heat to the lowest setting and the bubbles went away as it simmered. I looked around, the rest of the class hitting that point soon after, before the chef came around and looked at our progress.