sure I’ll mange to figure it out. I mean, how hard can it be?”
He cocked his head to the side and studied her. “You’re afraid to come over. Don’t worry, I have no further illusions you’re warm for my form.”
“What?” she said.
“My mom explained to me in no uncertain terms she’s off her matchmaking tack and has enlisted you to paint a picture for my dad. You must be good,” he added, “since my mom hates landscape art.”
She watched him thoughtfully. “Just the same, I’ll handle the fish myself.”
“Have it your way,” he said good-naturedly, and then strode off.
Chapter Five
Summer stood at the kitchen counter in the cabin, staring apologetically at the blue gill she’d effectively mutilated. According to the brochure, cleaning fish was a simple process. Ha!
She sighed heavily, unsure if she should try again or not. When she heard a brisk knock at the front door, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She scrubbed her hands on her apron and hurried to the door. She found Jarrod on the porch. He’d changed out of his uniform and wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.
“Are you ready for some help?” he asked, grinning knowingly.
“How’d you know I was having trouble?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Like I said before, cleaning fish is an art,” he responded cheerfully before striding into the kitchen. He immediately caught sight of the mangled blue gill. “Poor little thing,” he muttered, and she shot him a look of daggers. “Kidding! We can fix this.”
She watched him deftly take a knife to the fish, which thanks to her was already headless, and somehow manage to extract the tangled bony skeleton. He ran a thumb through its interior to clean out the remainder of the entrails, and then rinsed it thoroughly. He cocked an eyebrow toward a bowl on the counter.
“Yes, in there,” she directed.
“Okay,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “Now I’ll now show you the proper way to clean a fish from start to finish.”
She stepped forward, watching the process in fascination. He made it look so easy, but she suspected it might be some time before she showed the same prowess.
After he’d cleaned all five, he turned and met her gaze. “Are you starting dinner, or am I?”
Summer blinked several times, before she realized he was teasing her. Or was he? Apparently he wasn’t. She watched him pull two frying pans from a cabinet near the sink.
“I cleaned, you cook,” he said, grinning persuasively.
She swallowed and watched him uncertainly. She had never cooked fresh fish in a frying pan and he noted her discomfort.
“Okay, I’ll cook this time, but you’re cooking the next go round.”
She frowned. What exactly did that mean? There wouldn’t be a next time. She didn’t have long to ponder the remark, however, since she watched him drop butter into both pans, place each on the heated stovetop, dip each fish in flour, and then drop the four blue gill into the larger pan, and the single trout into the smaller one.
The scent of frying fish soon filled the kitchen and Summer stood back, watching Jarrod flip the fish in the pan. “What would you like to eat with the fish?” she asked, feeling as if she should make some contribution.
He shrugged. “Anything.”
She searched the freezer for frozen vegetables. She found a mixed bag and readied them for a quick turn in the microwave. Jarrod turned and grinned. “The fish are nearly done.”
Soon, the twosome sat down at the dinette table to enjoy the dinner. Summer took a bite of the blue gill first, her eyes widening with pleasure. She recalled her father telling her there was nothing like the taste of fresh, pan-fried fish, and she had to agree. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste.
“Good, huh? Wait till you taste the trout,” he enthused.
She took a bite of it next, realizing it was equally delicious.
He cocked his head to the side and studied her. “You’re afraid to come over. Don’t worry, I have no further illusions you’re warm for my form.”
“What?” she said.
“My mom explained to me in no uncertain terms she’s off her matchmaking tack and has enlisted you to paint a picture for my dad. You must be good,” he added, “since my mom hates landscape art.”
She watched him thoughtfully. “Just the same, I’ll handle the fish myself.”
“Have it your way,” he said good-naturedly, and then strode off.
Chapter Five
Summer stood at the kitchen counter in the cabin, staring apologetically at the blue gill she’d effectively mutilated. According to the brochure, cleaning fish was a simple process. Ha!
She sighed heavily, unsure if she should try again or not. When she heard a brisk knock at the front door, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She scrubbed her hands on her apron and hurried to the door. She found Jarrod on the porch. He’d changed out of his uniform and wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.
“Are you ready for some help?” he asked, grinning knowingly.
“How’d you know I was having trouble?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Like I said before, cleaning fish is an art,” he responded cheerfully before striding into the kitchen. He immediately caught sight of the mangled blue gill. “Poor little thing,” he muttered, and she shot him a look of daggers. “Kidding! We can fix this.”
She watched him deftly take a knife to the fish, which thanks to her was already headless, and somehow manage to extract the tangled bony skeleton. He ran a thumb through its interior to clean out the remainder of the entrails, and then rinsed it thoroughly. He cocked an eyebrow toward a bowl on the counter.
“Yes, in there,” she directed.
“Okay,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “Now I’ll now show you the proper way to clean a fish from start to finish.”
She stepped forward, watching the process in fascination. He made it look so easy, but she suspected it might be some time before she showed the same prowess.
After he’d cleaned all five, he turned and met her gaze. “Are you starting dinner, or am I?”
Summer blinked several times, before she realized he was teasing her. Or was he? Apparently he wasn’t. She watched him pull two frying pans from a cabinet near the sink.
“I cleaned, you cook,” he said, grinning persuasively.
She swallowed and watched him uncertainly. She had never cooked fresh fish in a frying pan and he noted her discomfort.
“Okay, I’ll cook this time, but you’re cooking the next go round.”
She frowned. What exactly did that mean? There wouldn’t be a next time. She didn’t have long to ponder the remark, however, since she watched him drop butter into both pans, place each on the heated stovetop, dip each fish in flour, and then drop the four blue gill into the larger pan, and the single trout into the smaller one.
The scent of frying fish soon filled the kitchen and Summer stood back, watching Jarrod flip the fish in the pan. “What would you like to eat with the fish?” she asked, feeling as if she should make some contribution.
He shrugged. “Anything.”
She searched the freezer for frozen vegetables. She found a mixed bag and readied them for a quick turn in the microwave. Jarrod turned and grinned. “The fish are nearly done.”
Soon, the twosome sat down at the dinette table to enjoy the dinner. Summer took a bite of the blue gill first, her eyes widening with pleasure. She recalled her father telling her there was nothing like the taste of fresh, pan-fried fish, and she had to agree. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste.
“Good, huh? Wait till you taste the trout,” he enthused.
She took a bite of it next, realizing it was equally delicious.
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