Unexpected by Meg Jolie Read Free Book Online Page A

came already made?”
    I shook my head. “Not the real stuff,” I said . I wandered over to the counter. He followed as I peered into the bowl of liquid. “Well for one thing, you’ll have better luck if you use a mixer,” I told him. “You know, with beaters?” That’s what they were called right? Maybe not. Maybe this was like the culinary-challenged leading the culinary-challenged.
    He waved a whisk at me.
    “That’s a whisk. A mixer is the thing that has two…” He gave me a blank look so I cut myself off. “Do you mind if I look for one?”
    He motioned toward the spacious kitchen. “Go ahead.”
    I started rummaging around in the cupboards.
    “Why do you need a mixer, anyway?” he demanded. “Isn’t this supposed to be whipped cream? It says it on the carton.” He poked it with an accusatory finger.
    “Whipp ing cream,” I stressed. It was only in that moment that I actually realized the difference myself. “As in, it needs some whipping to be turned into whipped cream.” It made sense. I’d just never had a reason to think it over before.
    Tristan nodded his agreement.
    I found what I was looking for in a lower cabinet and I pulled it out. Tristan stood back as I turned it on and proceeded to whip the cream. In no time, it had fluffed up substantially. He watched me with appreciation. When it looked as fluffy as I thought it was going to get, I turned the mixer off.
    He immediately stuck his finger in the bowl, swiping up a bite. He made a face as he popped it in his mouth.
    “Not good,” he decided as he grimaced.
    I copied his gesture. He was right. It wasn’t good. I’d watched my mom make whipped cream, not really paying attention as she did so. But I’d never made it myself.
    “I think it needs sugar. And maybe vanilla,” I decided.
    He found both of them and placed them on the counter. I measured out what I hoped was a reasonable amount for the portion we were attempting to make. I restarted the mixer just until it looked as though the new ingredients were blended in.
    “Here taste it now,” I offered as I skimmed my finger along the bowl. I held it up to him. He leaned forward taking my finger in his mouth. The sucking motion as he swirled his tongue around my finger sent something spiraling through me. I didn’t allow myself to think too much about what that something actually was.
    “Mmmm,” Tristan said. He was still—apparently—savoring the flavor.
    I forced a laugh as I slowly withdrew my finger.
    “What do you know? I, Britta Monroe actually taught the brilliant Tristan Jacobs something,” I said with a teasing smirk.
    Tristan smirked right back. “I’ve always thought there were a whole lot of things you could teach me,” he admitted.
    “What are you doing in here?” Jamie asked as she marched into the kitchen. Her eyes darted back and forth between Tristan and me. Then she spotted the mess on the countertop. “You better clean that up.”
    He put the rest of the carton back in the fridge and grabbed his plate. “I’ll get in a little bit.”
    “Why are you in the kitchen?” Jamie asked me with a little laugh. “Was he conning you into helping him?”
    I sho ok my head, not sure what to say. Tristan had scooped the whipped cream out onto his pie. He walked past his sister without looking back.
    I stood there, blinking after him. Wondering what he had meant when he’d said he thought there was a whole lot I could teach him. Because really, there was no way he meant that the way it sounded.
    Did he? He couldn’t have because…I couldn’t think of a logical reason other than… Just because !
     
    *~*~**
     
    “I think something is going on with Willow,” Jamie admitted. We were downstairs, far away from Tristan. That was good. Because I was finding I had a hard time paying attention to anything else when he was around. She’d put in a new romantic comedy, something he probably wouldn’t want to watch. “When is the last time you went to her