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Authors: Emily Evans
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Maybe you can learn at least someone’s first name tonight.”
“There’s just so many of them,” Garrett said. “My memory would overload.”
His words destroyed the lure of his movie star glow.
“Aim higher tonight.” I moved to the front door and waved my hand to shoo them out. The three hot stars obeyed.
***
The next afternoon, I squeezed the lemon into the cream and kept the whisk moving so the flavors would blend evenly. Garrett sat at the bar watching me, while fiddling with an 8 1/2x11 manila envelope. He took a big handful of pumpkin seeds from one of the snack bowls I had set out. I made a mental note of which dish got depleted faster. The salty pumpkin seeds were running a close race with the seasoned cereal mix.
“This one’s the best,” Garrett said, as if noting my interest. He pushed a blue bowl forward, the one with the thin sliced cheese and flavored homemade crackers.
“Then why are you eating the others first?”
“I’m saving it,” Garrett said. “I’ve never had these kinds of crackers before.”
“Did you try them with the purple grapes?”
“Yes,” Garrett said.
“How weird is this?” I asked Garrett.
“What’s that?”
I nodded to my bowl. “That I’m making my Scoop Out dessert here at the house. I thought the cooks on reality shows made the food on the set.”
“You’ll be making some of it on the set.”
“Just the topping really.” At rehearsal this morning, Hannah had handed out instructions for the next taping. Cook any dessert I want. Bring it in bowls.
“So I won’t actually get to try this lemon-cream-vanilla whipped cake?”
“You said you’re not into desserts.”
“I lied.”
I knew that from his avid stare when I put the ingredients together.
Garrett held up a finger. “Desserts are the rich sweetness that makes the mundane chore of obtaining sustenance bearable.”
“Uh huh.”
He ticked up a second finger. “You’ve never made me anything with lemon.”
So dramatic. “I’ve only been here a few days.”
“The citrusy fragrance reminds me of summers in Spain and the golden color of the fields in Scotland. To deny me my country is an economic necessity. To deny me a taste, to ease the suffering of my homesickness, is a cruelty. The likes of which I’ve not seen in the States.”
“Poor Garrett. I’m not sold, what’s your third argument?”
A grin crossed his mouth, and he tapped the envelope on the counter. “A bribe.”
That got my interest. I licked some of the cream off a tasting spoon. “Mmm.”
Garrett stared. “Marissa.”
I loved how my name sounded in his rich voice. “Garrett.” His wasn’t as great in my accent, but I worked with what I had. I held out my left hand for the envelope.
Garrett shook his head.
I knew I had him when his elaborate stories stopped spinning. Holding his gaze, I stuck my index finger dead center of the whipped mixture and held it out inches from his mouth.
Garrett’s green eyes widened.
I swiped my finger across his lips. “I wonder if kisses taste different dipped in lemon.”
He dropped the package on my side of the counter in a gesture of complete surrender. His fingers wrapped around my wrist and he drew my index finger into his mouth.
He sucked the lemon cream icing off.
Oh. Wow. My insides tightened and I froze.
“Mmm,” he echoed me. Even his exclamations had an accent.
I moved to his side of the counter.
The clanking of cleaning supplies and a bucket sounded from the stairs. Dolores. She must be ready to clean the living area. Her interruption saved me from finding out what he’d do next or more worrisome, what I’d do next.
I went back into the kitchen and put plastic wrap over my bowls. Next, I loaded them into the fridge so they’d keep for tomorrow. When I finished, I went for the manila envelope and snipped it open with my kitchen scissors. A DVD in a generic case slid out. A white label across the top read Scoop Out . I raised my gaze
“There’s just so many of them,” Garrett said. “My memory would overload.”
His words destroyed the lure of his movie star glow.
“Aim higher tonight.” I moved to the front door and waved my hand to shoo them out. The three hot stars obeyed.
***
The next afternoon, I squeezed the lemon into the cream and kept the whisk moving so the flavors would blend evenly. Garrett sat at the bar watching me, while fiddling with an 8 1/2x11 manila envelope. He took a big handful of pumpkin seeds from one of the snack bowls I had set out. I made a mental note of which dish got depleted faster. The salty pumpkin seeds were running a close race with the seasoned cereal mix.
“This one’s the best,” Garrett said, as if noting my interest. He pushed a blue bowl forward, the one with the thin sliced cheese and flavored homemade crackers.
“Then why are you eating the others first?”
“I’m saving it,” Garrett said. “I’ve never had these kinds of crackers before.”
“Did you try them with the purple grapes?”
“Yes,” Garrett said.
“How weird is this?” I asked Garrett.
“What’s that?”
I nodded to my bowl. “That I’m making my Scoop Out dessert here at the house. I thought the cooks on reality shows made the food on the set.”
“You’ll be making some of it on the set.”
“Just the topping really.” At rehearsal this morning, Hannah had handed out instructions for the next taping. Cook any dessert I want. Bring it in bowls.
“So I won’t actually get to try this lemon-cream-vanilla whipped cake?”
“You said you’re not into desserts.”
“I lied.”
I knew that from his avid stare when I put the ingredients together.
Garrett held up a finger. “Desserts are the rich sweetness that makes the mundane chore of obtaining sustenance bearable.”
“Uh huh.”
He ticked up a second finger. “You’ve never made me anything with lemon.”
So dramatic. “I’ve only been here a few days.”
“The citrusy fragrance reminds me of summers in Spain and the golden color of the fields in Scotland. To deny me my country is an economic necessity. To deny me a taste, to ease the suffering of my homesickness, is a cruelty. The likes of which I’ve not seen in the States.”
“Poor Garrett. I’m not sold, what’s your third argument?”
A grin crossed his mouth, and he tapped the envelope on the counter. “A bribe.”
That got my interest. I licked some of the cream off a tasting spoon. “Mmm.”
Garrett stared. “Marissa.”
I loved how my name sounded in his rich voice. “Garrett.” His wasn’t as great in my accent, but I worked with what I had. I held out my left hand for the envelope.
Garrett shook his head.
I knew I had him when his elaborate stories stopped spinning. Holding his gaze, I stuck my index finger dead center of the whipped mixture and held it out inches from his mouth.
Garrett’s green eyes widened.
I swiped my finger across his lips. “I wonder if kisses taste different dipped in lemon.”
He dropped the package on my side of the counter in a gesture of complete surrender. His fingers wrapped around my wrist and he drew my index finger into his mouth.
He sucked the lemon cream icing off.
Oh. Wow. My insides tightened and I froze.
“Mmm,” he echoed me. Even his exclamations had an accent.
I moved to his side of the counter.
The clanking of cleaning supplies and a bucket sounded from the stairs. Dolores. She must be ready to clean the living area. Her interruption saved me from finding out what he’d do next or more worrisome, what I’d do next.
I went back into the kitchen and put plastic wrap over my bowls. Next, I loaded them into the fridge so they’d keep for tomorrow. When I finished, I went for the manila envelope and snipped it open with my kitchen scissors. A DVD in a generic case slid out. A white label across the top read Scoop Out . I raised my gaze
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