Read Online Something in the Heir (It's Reigning Men, #1) by Jenny Gardiner - Free Book Online
Authors: Jenny Gardiner
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vote if you’re willing to give it to me.”
Emma grabbed the handle of the frying pan and with a rubber spatula, deftly turned over one side of the omelet, then flipped it. “Voila!” She said, glad she didn’t drop the thing in a heap on the floor.
“Bravo!” Adrian clapped, impressed at her culinary prowess. “I’ve never seen something so entertaining before!”
“Oh, please,” she said. “I’m pretty sure whatever royal entertainment you’ve had over the years eclipses a little omelet showmanship. Even if I am pretty darned masterful at it.” She mockingly buffed her nails on her shirt, as if she was a pro.
“I don’t care what you say,” he said. “That was terribly impressive.”
Emma slid the omelet onto his plate and gave him several strips of bacon. She made quick work of the rest of the ingredients and served herself.
“Now, to top it off.”
She pulled out a carton of orange juice from the fridge that mercifully hadn’t expired yet, then walked over to her parents’ wine rack in the dining room and helped herself to a bottle of Prosecco.
“Sir, if you’ll do the honors.”
“Now this I have some skill with,” Adrian said, removing the foil cover and wire basket from the head of the bottle and popping the cork. “Thank goodness I didn’t just shoot that into your eye.”
“I have faith that one thing you’ve mastered is cracking open a little bubbly. Granted, this isn’t vintage Dom Perignon, but mixed with a little orange juice it’s a perfect addition to our brunch.”
She handed him two champagne flutes to fill with the Prosecco, and she topped them off with juice. “To adventure,” she said, clinking her glass with Adrian’s.
“And to my gracious hostess. Thank you for saving me from a fate worse than death,” he said, tipping his glass to hers yet again. “At least for the time being.”
They sat down at the tiny dining room table off the kitchen.
“As my grandmother used to say before each meal here, enjoy your vittles,” Emma said, laughing. “Before you even ask, it’s a country term for food. Not that my grandma was a country gal, she wasn’t. She just loved The Beverly Hillbillies .”
Adrian raised his eyebrow.
“Of course you wouldn’t know that cultural touchstone. Television, from back in the dark ages. Just know that it’s a classic, and if you’re lucky maybe we’ll watch some this week on Nickelodeon.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, digging into his first bite, his eyes opening wide in surprise at how good it was. “This is amazing.” He moaned. He actually moaned.
“Huh, I don’t think anyone has ever gotten too excited about my cooking,” Emma said. “So glad you’re enjoying it. You can take pride in knowing you contributed to its amazingness. You helped birth this puppy. Even though I’m fairly certain the food you’ve eaten to this point in your life is a bit more impressive than my omelets. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You underestimate your gifts.”
“Beats being a gifted jewel thief, or a talented stripper, I guess. So tell me, besides being painfully dapper and charming, what gifts do you hold up for the world to see?”
Adrian sat in silence, pondering this question, cutting a bite of omelet and eating it, then cutting another bite and eating it as well. “I suppose no one’s ever asked me that before. I’m not certain I have any gifts.”
Emma shook her head. “I think you underestimate yourself,” she said. “First off, you’re flexible. I mean come on, twenty-four hours ago you were a pampered prince. And look at you now! You’re slumming it in a statue of David apron in my parents’ beach house. That’s nothing if not flexible.”
“So I’m on par with Gumby, then.” He smiled.
“Aha! So you do have cultural references. You’re familiar with Gumby.”
“Who isn’t? That would be like not knowing who Saint Nicholas is. Nonetheless, resiliency doesn’t win me
Emma grabbed the handle of the frying pan and with a rubber spatula, deftly turned over one side of the omelet, then flipped it. “Voila!” She said, glad she didn’t drop the thing in a heap on the floor.
“Bravo!” Adrian clapped, impressed at her culinary prowess. “I’ve never seen something so entertaining before!”
“Oh, please,” she said. “I’m pretty sure whatever royal entertainment you’ve had over the years eclipses a little omelet showmanship. Even if I am pretty darned masterful at it.” She mockingly buffed her nails on her shirt, as if she was a pro.
“I don’t care what you say,” he said. “That was terribly impressive.”
Emma slid the omelet onto his plate and gave him several strips of bacon. She made quick work of the rest of the ingredients and served herself.
“Now, to top it off.”
She pulled out a carton of orange juice from the fridge that mercifully hadn’t expired yet, then walked over to her parents’ wine rack in the dining room and helped herself to a bottle of Prosecco.
“Sir, if you’ll do the honors.”
“Now this I have some skill with,” Adrian said, removing the foil cover and wire basket from the head of the bottle and popping the cork. “Thank goodness I didn’t just shoot that into your eye.”
“I have faith that one thing you’ve mastered is cracking open a little bubbly. Granted, this isn’t vintage Dom Perignon, but mixed with a little orange juice it’s a perfect addition to our brunch.”
She handed him two champagne flutes to fill with the Prosecco, and she topped them off with juice. “To adventure,” she said, clinking her glass with Adrian’s.
“And to my gracious hostess. Thank you for saving me from a fate worse than death,” he said, tipping his glass to hers yet again. “At least for the time being.”
They sat down at the tiny dining room table off the kitchen.
“As my grandmother used to say before each meal here, enjoy your vittles,” Emma said, laughing. “Before you even ask, it’s a country term for food. Not that my grandma was a country gal, she wasn’t. She just loved The Beverly Hillbillies .”
Adrian raised his eyebrow.
“Of course you wouldn’t know that cultural touchstone. Television, from back in the dark ages. Just know that it’s a classic, and if you’re lucky maybe we’ll watch some this week on Nickelodeon.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he said, digging into his first bite, his eyes opening wide in surprise at how good it was. “This is amazing.” He moaned. He actually moaned.
“Huh, I don’t think anyone has ever gotten too excited about my cooking,” Emma said. “So glad you’re enjoying it. You can take pride in knowing you contributed to its amazingness. You helped birth this puppy. Even though I’m fairly certain the food you’ve eaten to this point in your life is a bit more impressive than my omelets. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“You underestimate your gifts.”
“Beats being a gifted jewel thief, or a talented stripper, I guess. So tell me, besides being painfully dapper and charming, what gifts do you hold up for the world to see?”
Adrian sat in silence, pondering this question, cutting a bite of omelet and eating it, then cutting another bite and eating it as well. “I suppose no one’s ever asked me that before. I’m not certain I have any gifts.”
Emma shook her head. “I think you underestimate yourself,” she said. “First off, you’re flexible. I mean come on, twenty-four hours ago you were a pampered prince. And look at you now! You’re slumming it in a statue of David apron in my parents’ beach house. That’s nothing if not flexible.”
“So I’m on par with Gumby, then.” He smiled.
“Aha! So you do have cultural references. You’re familiar with Gumby.”
“Who isn’t? That would be like not knowing who Saint Nicholas is. Nonetheless, resiliency doesn’t win me
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