beurre blanc to go on top. And then if it’s okay, I wanted to do a chocolate mousse cake for dessert? Kind of like one of our brownies, only amped up a little.”
“Wow,” Mr. Mitchell says. “That’s an elaborate meal. What’s the occasion?”
“It’s a congratulations thing. Her band just recorded an album.”
“Impressive.” Mr. Mitchell takes off his glasses and polishes them on his shirt. “Well, we don’t have wine, of course, but you’re welcome to help yourself to some chicken and whatever else you need. Just make a list of what you use and I’ll charge you the wholesale price.”
“Awesome,” I say. “Thanks a lot. I’ll use the prep area and stay out of everyone’s way.”
“Are you going to need help with anything?” Mr. Mitchell asks.
“Nope. I got it. I found the dessert recipe online last night and it’s pretty straightforward.”
“Nice. Let me know how it works out. I’ve been meaning to update the menu someday.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Be sure to clean up after you’re done.”
“Will do. And Ebony said she’d get me the wine. But only for cooking,” I add quickly.
“Right. Only for cooking.” Mr. Mitchell smiles wryly. “I do remember what it was like to be young, you know.”
“Yeah?” I fiddle with my barbed-wire bracelet. “I mean, of course you do. You’re not that old.”
His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. “Good to know.”
Shit. Did I just call my boss old? “Thanks again,” I say hurriedly. “Bye.”
I duck out of the office and start gathering everything I’ll need before Mr. Mitchell can change his mind. I’m going to make tonight a do-over of last night. First, I will rock Amber’s world with an amazing dinner. And afterward I’ll tell her about April 5th, about why I was so weird, hopefully without her phone blowing up a thousand times during the conversation.
Chapter 7
I t takes me two hours to get everything prepared just the way I want it. I start with the chocolate cake so it has time to bake and cool. Then I work on the chocolate mousse, adding all the ingredients to a small saucepan and slowly bringing them to a boil. I prep the chicken filling, butterfly and pound the breasts, stuff them, and put them in the oven. Ebony returns with a single-serve bottle of wine just as I’m whipping the heavy cream for the mousse. She hangs out to observe for a few minutes, her eyes following the beaters as they whirl through the mixing bowl.
“Now I see why Amber puts up with your crap,” she says. “Maybe you can go on tour with Arachne’s Revenge and be their cook.”
“No thanks.” I remove the bowl from the mixer and fold the chocolate mixture into the whipped cream. “I’d rather open my own restaurant.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure this’ll more than make up for being a head case.” Ebony grabs a spatula from a tray of utensils and scrapes a little mousse off the side of the mixing bowl. Her eyes roll back in her head as she tastes it. “Whoa. I think your talents are wasted here.”
“So it’s good?” I can’t keep from grinning. “It’s called Chocolate Mousse Trifecta.”
“It’s called somebody is getting lucky tonight.”
“Nah. Her parents will be home. But I’m lucky she’s not pissed at me, right?”
“Barf. So whipped.” Ebony coughs into her hand. “And I’m not talking about your fabulous mousse either.”
“Get lost.” I grab the mini bottle of wine and pour some of it into a saucepan. I add a slosh of vinegar and turn up the heat.
“Good idea. But first . . .” Ebony reaches for the mixing bowl again.
“No double-dipping.” I slap the spatula out of her hand and it lands on the floor, spraying flecks of mousse around her boots.
“You are so cleaning that up.” She grins as she turns and heads for the front. “Have fun tonight.”
“I plan on it.”
After Ebony leaves, I layer the two types of mousse on top of the cake and put the dessert in the freezer
“Wow,” Mr. Mitchell says. “That’s an elaborate meal. What’s the occasion?”
“It’s a congratulations thing. Her band just recorded an album.”
“Impressive.” Mr. Mitchell takes off his glasses and polishes them on his shirt. “Well, we don’t have wine, of course, but you’re welcome to help yourself to some chicken and whatever else you need. Just make a list of what you use and I’ll charge you the wholesale price.”
“Awesome,” I say. “Thanks a lot. I’ll use the prep area and stay out of everyone’s way.”
“Are you going to need help with anything?” Mr. Mitchell asks.
“Nope. I got it. I found the dessert recipe online last night and it’s pretty straightforward.”
“Nice. Let me know how it works out. I’ve been meaning to update the menu someday.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Be sure to clean up after you’re done.”
“Will do. And Ebony said she’d get me the wine. But only for cooking,” I add quickly.
“Right. Only for cooking.” Mr. Mitchell smiles wryly. “I do remember what it was like to be young, you know.”
“Yeah?” I fiddle with my barbed-wire bracelet. “I mean, of course you do. You’re not that old.”
His lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. “Good to know.”
Shit. Did I just call my boss old? “Thanks again,” I say hurriedly. “Bye.”
I duck out of the office and start gathering everything I’ll need before Mr. Mitchell can change his mind. I’m going to make tonight a do-over of last night. First, I will rock Amber’s world with an amazing dinner. And afterward I’ll tell her about April 5th, about why I was so weird, hopefully without her phone blowing up a thousand times during the conversation.
Chapter 7
I t takes me two hours to get everything prepared just the way I want it. I start with the chocolate cake so it has time to bake and cool. Then I work on the chocolate mousse, adding all the ingredients to a small saucepan and slowly bringing them to a boil. I prep the chicken filling, butterfly and pound the breasts, stuff them, and put them in the oven. Ebony returns with a single-serve bottle of wine just as I’m whipping the heavy cream for the mousse. She hangs out to observe for a few minutes, her eyes following the beaters as they whirl through the mixing bowl.
“Now I see why Amber puts up with your crap,” she says. “Maybe you can go on tour with Arachne’s Revenge and be their cook.”
“No thanks.” I remove the bowl from the mixer and fold the chocolate mixture into the whipped cream. “I’d rather open my own restaurant.”
“Well, I’m pretty sure this’ll more than make up for being a head case.” Ebony grabs a spatula from a tray of utensils and scrapes a little mousse off the side of the mixing bowl. Her eyes roll back in her head as she tastes it. “Whoa. I think your talents are wasted here.”
“So it’s good?” I can’t keep from grinning. “It’s called Chocolate Mousse Trifecta.”
“It’s called somebody is getting lucky tonight.”
“Nah. Her parents will be home. But I’m lucky she’s not pissed at me, right?”
“Barf. So whipped.” Ebony coughs into her hand. “And I’m not talking about your fabulous mousse either.”
“Get lost.” I grab the mini bottle of wine and pour some of it into a saucepan. I add a slosh of vinegar and turn up the heat.
“Good idea. But first . . .” Ebony reaches for the mixing bowl again.
“No double-dipping.” I slap the spatula out of her hand and it lands on the floor, spraying flecks of mousse around her boots.
“You are so cleaning that up.” She grins as she turns and heads for the front. “Have fun tonight.”
“I plan on it.”
After Ebony leaves, I layer the two types of mousse on top of the cake and put the dessert in the freezer
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