“Sorry,” I breathed out, standing at her stove, browning the sausage in a pan. “Jacob offered me a job at his restaurant. But he’s forcing me to perfect three dishes before he gives me the job. And he’s being a total dick about it, turning down each thing I bring him. So I was going to test some of the food off on you if that’s okay.”
Her eyes widened with pleasure. “Oh my God, I haven’t had a Logan meal in forever. I will gladly be your guinea pig. What are we making?”
“Risotto,” I replied.
“Doesn’t that take a while?”
“Yup.”
She didn’t know that I was watching her from the corner of my eye, but she smiled. I smiled knowing she was smiling.
We spoke about random things as I stood by the stove, stirring the rice with the broth. “So you’re thinking about opening a piano bar?”
“Yeah, well, seriously thinking about it. Remember when we were kids and talked about it?”
“LoAly?”
“AlyLo,” she corrected with a smirk. “Yeah. I mean, I wouldn’t name it that seeing how that was kind of our thing, but I don’t know. It’s just a dream. That’s all.”
“A good dream, which you should make a reality.”
She shrugged, folding her arms on the table, and resting her head on top of them. “Maybe. We’ll see. My friend Dan has shown me a few different properties that might work. I know it’s too soon to be looking at buildings and stuff, but it’s just fun. Seeing the places makes the dream seem a little closer.”
After the risotto was done, I put it on the plate and set it in front of Alyssa. She grinned from ear to ear, clapping her hands like crazy. “Oh my God, it’s happening! I know I missed you, Logan. But I think I missed your food even more.”
“Fair enough. Now here.” I handed her a spoon. “Eat up.”
She dug in quickly, and when it met her lips and she began chewing, she frowned.
“What? What is it??” I asked, my voice heightened.
“Nothing, it’s just not…amazing?”
“What? There’s nothing wrong with this dish.”
Her lips parted and she nodded. “Yes there is.”
“No. There isn’t. Look. The sausage is cooked flawlessly. The mushrooms roasted perfect. The perfect blend of seasonings, remarkable. This is a freaking perfect dish.”
She frowned and shrugged her shoulders. “I mean, it’s okay. For what it is.”
I huffed. For what it is? Alyssa had a lot of nerve. “There’s nothing wrong with this dish.”
“There is.”
“No, there isn’t.”
“It’s,” she bit her bottom lip, made a wavering back and forth gesture with her hands, and shrugged once more. “Bland.”
“Bland?!”
“Bland.”
“You just,” I took a deep inhale and exhaled hard. “Did you just call my food bland?”
“I did. Because it is.”
I placed my hands on the edge of the table and leaned into her, extremely annoyed. “I’ve been cooking since I was a kid. I’ve been cooking this dish for three years straight through culinary school. I could make this food in my goddamn sleep and it would taste like something I’d feed to the president. My food isn’t bland. My food is flavorful, and delicious. And you are just nuts!” I hollered.