“Eric and I are having truffle fettucine tonight, but I can be in to do that tomorrow night,” I said.
“Truffle fettucine?” Raye asked.
“It’s all in the truffle butter,” I told her like I knew what I was talking about, when I really didn’t, but I suspected it was a good guess.
“That sounds awesome. I need to share that with Cap. Do you have a recipe?” Raye asked.
“Sure,” I said.
“Focus,” Tex grunted.
He threw the towel by the sink and asked, “What’s for dinner?”
“I whipped up some pastitsio.”
“You whipped up some pastitsio?”
I understood the emphasis.
The recipe had about five thousand ingredients, and making the béchamel produced a level of angst in me I never wanted to feel again.
But I thought I cracked it.
Only time would tell.
I’d forgotten because the girls were coming that night for dinner. I was making beef Stroganoff. And I was again a little nervous.
Just in time, I turned my head so when Logan bent in to give me a peck, I got it on my lips before the doorbell rang again and he was off to go answer it.
“Cheeseburger eggrolls,” she announced.
He looked down at her.
“Say again?” he asked.
“That’s what we’re having for dinner. Cheeseburger eggrolls. Made in the air fryer. And a quinoa salad. Brownies and ice cream for dessert.”
“Sounds awesome.”
“I use turkey meat, I shy away from beef. And we had steaks this week. I’ve met my quota.”
“Works for me.”
“First, the binder.”
He did a slow blink.
The binder?
“Do you like chicken enchiladas?”
“Yup.”
“Do you like olives?”
“Yup.”
“Do you like sour cream?”
“Yup.”
“On a scale of a little bit of cheese goes a long way to cheese fanatic, where do you sit?”
“Fanatic.”
We had something in common.
“Smells good,” he murmured when his head came up.
“Fish pie.”
“Mm.”
God, he could “mm” great in that gravelly way of his.