What's Cooking Read Online Free Page A

response, he pressed one palm to the center of his chest, fingers splayed, and batted his long eyelashes.
    â€œWhy is this so important to you?”
    Mitchell’s foolish grin dropped, and he straightened. “I promised my sister and my mother I would cook the food for her wedding rehearsal. Her fiancé is my roommate and best friend, and he doesn’t think I can do it. But I can’t let Ellen down. This is important to her.”
    â€œOh.” Whatever she had expected, this wasn’t it.
    â€œYou can trust me. I’m a nice guy. I go to church every Sunday and everything. Promise.”
    Carolyn’s breath caught. All week she’d been wondering why he’d really asked about the cross her grandmother gave her. Now she knew. That was, if she read his between-the-lines statement properly.
    She cleared her throat, hoping her voice would come out even, and dropped her arms. “All right, I’ll help you. I’m free Thursday night.”
    Mitchell moved his hands back to the tabletop and leaned closer. “And just to let you know, I was serious about taking you out for dinner sometime.”
    Carolyn gulped. What had she done?
    â§
    Carolyn stood in front of Mitchell’s door but didn’t knock. She wasn’t sure she was doing the right thing in agreeing to tutor Mitchell outside of class hours. She’d prayed about it and received no clear direction, so she had to stand by her word. Besides, it wasn’t like she was going to date the man. His age aside, so far she couldn’t see anything wrong with him, but at the same time, she didn’t see anything that made him right for her. If there were any man she would have considered right for herself, it was Hank, and Hank and Mitchell were as different as night and day.
    However, she wasn’t standing in front of Hank’s front door. She was at Mitchell’s, and she was not here as a social call. This was business. Or a favor. Or something.
    Carolyn gathered her courage, raised her fist, and knocked. A dog barked, quieted, and Mitchell answered almost immediately. Some kind of midsize hairy brown dog stood at his side, indifferently sized her up, yawned, then turned and walked away, allowing her to follow Mitchell down the hall into the kitchen—where the counters were completely bare.
    She waved one hand in the air above the empty countertop. “I thought you wanted me to show you how to cook something today. You don’t have anything ready.”
    Mitchell raised his arms, palms up, then let them flop down to his sides. “I told you I needed help. If we went to the supermarket, could you show me what to get?”
    Carolyn sighed. She hadn’t counted on doing his grocery shopping. She opened her mouth to complain, but rather than watch his theatrics again, she gave in. “Okay,” she muttered. “Let’s go.”
    Minutes later, Mitchell pushed the cart as Carolyn selected the ingredients, in addition to some basics she doubted he had. Walking up and down the aisles, Carolyn tried to shake the cascade of mixed emotions as he teased and complained about the items she chose, acting as if they belonged together.
    Once they returned to Mitchell’s house, she spread everything on the table, ready to begin.
    â€œOkay, where do you keep your bowls?”
    â€œBowls?”
    Carolyn knotted her brows. “We need a bowl like the one we used in class last night.”
    â€œI don’t have a bowl that big.”
    Carolyn sighed. “What do you mix things in?”
    â€œMix things? I put them in the pot.”
    She rested one hand on her hip and waved the other in the air in a circular motion as she spoke. “I don’t mean when you’re cooking something, I mean when you’re mixing the ingredients. The bowl you use when you make cookies.”
    He grinned that impish grin she was seeing more and more often, giving Carolyn the feeling she wasn’t