Cooking and Chemistry

Jordan

I was just dumping the strips of steak into the hot oil in the pan when my doorbell rang.

“Hey, come in.” I opened the door and ushered her into the house, hating that I didn’t have time to greet her properly. Professional Hannah was attractive. I was glad she’d worn the dress I’d wanted.

My hands were itching to get a hold of those legs later.

“It smells good in here. Thank you for inviting me,” she thanked me quietly as she looked up at me from beneath her lashes.

“I’ll give you the tour later, I just started cooking, so I need to get back to the kitchen,” I told her as I turned back toward that part of the house.

“Of course, lead the way.” She followed behind me, her eyes studying everything as we walked through the open plan living space and toward the kitchen, which overlooked the backyard.

“I like your house. Have you been here a long time?”

I watched out of the corner of my eye as her head swiveled around, taking in all the details.

“About five years. I bought it once the gym became more established,” I explained.

My previous apartment had been nice, but it was a bachelor pad. It wasn’t meant to be long-term. I also needed more space for my equipment. Most apartment complex gyms didn’t have rowing machines.

“It’s a nice size.”

“Thanks. It works for me. I didn’t want something that required a lot of maintenance. This whole neighborhood has community lawncare, which was a big selling point for me.”

“You mean you don’t want to be out there, maintaining your perfectly manicured lawn?” She laughed. “Isn’t that like every suburban man’s dream?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I’d rather be in the pool on the weekends than behind a lawnmower.”

“Yeah, I like living in an apartment. If something breaks, then someone else has to fix it for me.” She laughed.

“I think there are perks to owning, though,” I told her sincerely. “Making your space your own doesn’t require anyone else’s permission.”

“That’s true. But my landlord would let me paint if I wanted to,” she said. She stepped around the end of the kitchen peninsula and looked at where I was turning the browned meat.

“Is stir-fry all right?”

“You’re saving me from having to cook, so I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

My brain took that comment to an unclean place. But lately, just about everything she did made me think about her full lips. How they felt. The way they tasted. What they’d look like wrapped around…

I reached down and tried to subtly adjust myself. I could only hope she’d keep a little bit of physical distance while I was making the food or we’d never eat. Well... I might eat... but I wasn’t gonna go there... yet.

“Is there anything I can help with?” she asked. She watched me transfer the meat to a bowl, and then I quickly wiped the wok out, squirting in new oil and a little bit of hoisin sauce before I dumped in the bowl of vegetables.

“I’ve got wine if you’d like a glass,” I offered.

She looked torn for a moment.

“We don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. I’ve got water and tea as well.”

“No... actually, a glass of wine sounds nice. I just haven’t drunk much in almost two months. The most I’ve had was a little whiskey with Tatum.”

“Did she take you to Proof?”

“Yeah. We shared a tasting flight.”

We had a friend who was part owner of the trendy bar. They knew what they were doing when it came to specialty whiskey drinks.

“Well, now that the weigh-in is behind you, I think you deserve a little indulgence,”

“I just don’t want to get too far off track,” she said quietly as she smoothed down her dress.

“Congratulations, by the way. I was happy I was the one who got to read off your name.”

She looked up at me with a conflicted expression, something hidden flashing across her beguiling blue eyes.

I still hadn't spent quite enough time with her to read her expressions as I would like, so I wasn't sure what was bothering her.

We had moved past some of the tension that had formed between us, but we still didn't know one another all that well.

“Is it weird that while I'm super excited, I also feel weird taking money from you?” she replied, worry evident in her tone. She had obviously given this some thought.

“You earned it,” I encouraged. “I wouldn't feel weird about it.” I may own the business, but she won that prize money fair and square.

“I know. I... It's just... I don't need to take your money.” Her voice was quiet toward the end. It honestly didn't bother me that the woman who I was pursuing romantically won.

We both knew that nothing unethical happened while she was in the contest. A few kisses could hardly be misconstrued as cheating or an unfair advantage.

“Would you feel better if we just gave you a membership credit?” I couldn't hide some of the amusement from my voice, but she looked more embarrassed than anything.

“Actually, yeah,” she nodded. “That would be better.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” I promised, giving her a little wink.

I had to admit, I loved the blush that rose to her cheeks in response. I knew we were attracted to one another, but seeing it manifest physically was a considerable source of arousal for me.

In between tossing the vegetables, I took quick peeks at Hannah sitting behind me. She’d opened up the bottle of red on the counter and poured herself half a glass.

I hoped it would help her relax a little. I knew she had been stressed the last week.

Between the weigh-in, the hard workouts I had put her through, and the stress of navigating this new dynamic in our relationship, she was actually doing pretty well.

“Have you heard anything from the other winners yet?” she asked as she leaned against the counter, providing me a clear look down the front of the snug, form-fitting black dress she was wearing.

I had to look back up at her face, so I wouldn’t get distracted by the curves of the tops of her breasts.

“I know there were comments coming in on the video, but I haven’t had a chance to read them,” I confessed. Answering Facebook messages was the last thing on my mind tonight.

“I came straight home and cleaned up. I figured you wouldn’t want me stinking up the place.”

“Did you work out today?” she asked as she eyed my exposed forearms. I had thrown on a light button-down shirt and rolled up the sleeves so they wouldn’t get in my way while I cooked.

I wanted to look nice for her but not go overboard. If the look she had given me at the front door was any indication, she liked it.

“No, but I did sanitize all the equipment on the floor between classes. My job was super glamorous today,” I told her with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Sounds like it.” She laughed, and I grabbed the bowl of steak, tossing it into the almost finished vegetables. I added some water to the wok and watched the steam rise up, squirting in a little more sauce to finish everything.

“I typically just eat the veggies and the meat, but I think I might have some white rice we could heat up?” I wasn’t a big fan of adding unnecessary carbs to my meals.

I knew I needed some for a balanced diet, but potatoes and rice were not a big staple for me. I built muscle better with a higher protein intake.

“I’m flexible,” she replied with a shrug. I found myself wondering where else that same statement might apply. “I don’t need the rice. I think I might have actually gotten used to leaving the carbs out.”

“It’s surprising how, when you adjust a routine enough over a few months, you learn to live without things you relied on before,” I said. It's all about developing and keeping healthy habits.

That’s why we kept doing the challenge year after year; it forced people out of their comfort zones and made them adapt to new habits.

“Like me with peanut butter cups,” she giggled, and I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my face as I turned off the heat and transferred the stir fry to some wide-mouthed bowls.

“Is that why you called your feature on Instagram project peanut butter cup?”

“Yeah. Parker and I said that I was 45 percent peanut butter cup after my initial weigh-in,” she said quietly, almost sounding guilty.

“An occasional indulgence is okay,” I assured her. I snuck candy and ice cream on occasion as well.

Limiting the amount and frequency was what most people needed to master. Enjoy life, but don’t go overboard.

“Nope,” she shook her head with a stubborn tilt to her neck. “I went cold turkey. It was my drug of choice. I don’t think I could resist if I fell off the wagon.”

“Maybe you just need to find an alternative treat,” I mused.

With people starting to take their health more seriously, there were all kinds of alternative sweets available that didn’t cause as much of a glucose spike.

“I have a spoonful of peanut butter if I start jonesing,” she gave me a guilty smile.

“That’s a much healthier alternative,” I agreed. “A lot of athletes use peanut butter or nuts as a healthy, protein-rich snack.”

“Well, I’m far from an athlete, but it works for me too.”

“I beg to differ,” I told her honestly, taking the seat next to her at the island, placing a steaming bowl next to her, and passing her a fork.

“This smells so good,” she cooed with a dreamy smile as she leaned in toward her bowl with her eyes closed.

“It’s one of my go-to meals. Quick, easy, and tastes good,” I told her. “But don’t change the subject, why aren’t you an athlete?”

“I mean, my base isn’t embarrassingly slow anymore,” she laughed. “But if you haven’t noticed, I jog a lot slower than most people in the studio.”

“But you show up three or four times a week,” I urged with a raised eyebrow. “And you smoke half the ladies on the rower, plus your weights have increased over the last month quite a bit.”

“That doesn’t make me an athlete,” she scoffed playfully.

“Hell yes, it does. An athlete is just a person who enjoys making their body move. They don’t have to be the fastest or the best; they just have to put in the effort.”

“Making their body move, huh?” She licked her bottom lip and gave me a slow smile.

Fuck. She looked up at me from beneath her lashes and bit her lip as she maintained eye contact. Shifting in my seat, I tried to focus on eating, but she’d already planted the seed.

“Eat your dinner, Hannah,” I scolded when she kept staring at me like I was on the menu.

“It is pretty yummy,” she hummed as she took a few bites, licking her full lips in between.

The longer we were quiet as we ate, the more the tension built up between us. It felt like a physical entity multiplying with the silence.