An American Cinderella

I arranged the items I’d gotten from the store on my kitchen counter. I’d found most of the things he’d asked or, or at least what I hoped where close to what he wanted. Panko crumbs were apparently some sort of Japanese crunchy breadcrumb type thing. I’d had to ask someone to show me where they were since they were not with the bread. They were in the baking aisle where I never ventured.

I had no idea what in the heck we were making, but I was excited to try it. I was ready to try anything with him.

The knock on my door made me smile. He was finally here.

I smoothed the front of the dress I’d changed into and tried to walk calmly to the door. I didn’t make it two steps before I ran the rest of the way. Luckily, it was a small space so I didn’t have far to run. I checked the peephole to see him standing in my hallway, wearing his traditional baseball cap. He had a canvas bag with more groceries resting on his shoulder.

I grinned and threw open the door.

He looked sexy as hell in a nice pair of slacks and a button-up dark gray shirt. He hadn’t shaved since this morning, so he had just the right amount of stubble to accentuate his strong jaw. I couldn’t wait to kiss him and feel it against my skin.

“Hi,” I greeted him.

He grinned. “Hi.”

I held open the door and he stepped inside, taking off his hat. He waited until I closed the door before sweeping me into his arms and kissing me like he hadn’t seen me in weeks rather than just a day.

I wasn’t about to complain, especially since I kissed him back the same way.

“You look beautiful,” he said once he released me from his kiss. He didn’t release me from his embrace, which I was happy about.

“Thanks,” I replied. I put my hand to his cheek, feeling the scratch of his in-coming beard on my fingers. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He kissed me again, and I lost track of time. It was easy to do when a handsome man kissed like heaven and felt even better. I could have died of starvation and never complained if it meant I got to kiss him the entire time.

“You keep that up and we’ll never finish dinner,” he said, breathless as he pulled back. Apparently, I was as good a kisser as he was.

“Maybe it’s all part of my evil new diet plan. No eating. Just kissing. And other things.”

He chuckled and kissed my cheek. “Liar,” he teased.

I grinned, both of us releasing the other at the same time. He went to my small kitchen and looked over my ingredients.

“You did great,” he said, picking up my box of panko bread crumbs. He set them down and looked at the chicken breasts I had found. “These are perfect.”

Pride filled my center. I was glad I had pleased him. It felt good to have him praise me.

“What are we making, by the way?” I asked, sidling up to him in the kitchen.

He grinned and began to carefully take things out of his canvas tote. A bottle of white wine, fresh green beans, some sort of reddish potato looking thing, and some seasonings. He carefully set the bag to the side, even though there was something still left inside of it.

I secretly hoped it was dessert. I wasn’t going to peek until he said to, though. I liked surprises.

“We are making Panko Crusted Chicken Piccata with green beans and roasted beets.” He started opening cabinets. “Where’s your cutting board?”

“It’s under the lemons,” I pointed to the counter. “It’s brand new.”

“You didn’t have a cutting board?” he asked, turning to look at me. “Please tell me that you at least have a cutting knife and some cooking sheets.”

“Like cookie sheets?” I asked. I went to the storage space under my oven and pulled out two very well loved cookie sheets. “The knives are by the sink.”

He stepped to the side and pulled out my cheap plastic handled carving knife. He tested the sharpness and looked surprised. “Have you ever even used this? It’s actually much sharper than I expected.”

I shrugged. “I have to use something to open the cookie dough rolls.” He just shook his head.

“Wash your hands and we’ll get started.”.

The next hour was spent cutting and seasoning, cooking and laughing. I liked that my kitchen was small enough that we kept running into one another. It gave me an excuse to touch him as often as I wanted.