Chapter 48

Before heading over, Alexia made a quick stop at the pharmacy to grab something for a fever.

Stepping up to the front door of Waylon's home, she gave a gentle knock. He answered, wearing an ivory sweater, all long lines and quiet confidence.

There was something different about him here, away from the world. Gone was the hard edge. At home,he seemed softer-like a summer moonbeam, gentle and quietly striking.

When he noticed her standing frozen on the doorstep,he leaned closer, studying her face. "Why are you staring? You're blushing."

The sound of his voice snapped her out of it. She quickly pushed at his chest. "Back up. You're way too close."

He didn't bother resisting and let her through without complaint. Once inside, Alexia took in her surroundings. "Where's your housekeeper? Isn't she supposed to be looking after you?"

"She had to leave for family reasons," he said, the words slipping out as though it barely mattered.

"What about everyone else?"

"None of them can handle glazed ribs right." A hint of annoyance flickered across his features. "And I can't stand strangers lingering around anyway."

Alexia reached into her bag and produced an electronic thermometer, pressing it to his forehead.

Her eyes widened as the numbers blinked on screen."You're burning up! And you still refuse to take medicine?"

"It's just a fever. I'lI be fine after some sleep." Waylon Looked as relaxed as ever, like it was nothing to worry about.

Alexia shot him a sharp look. "What if you end up frying your brain and can't think straight?"

A little smirk tugged at his lips. "Even then, I'd still be smarter than most."

Rolling her eyes, Alexia sighed. Trying a different approach, she warned him,"If you don't take your medicine, I'm not cooking those ribs."

Waylon didn't argue. He just fixed her with an intense stare. Even as her cheeks threatened to flush under his gaze,Alexia fought to keep calm. "Fine. No medicine,no ribs. I'm out."

She turned around and started for the door. But before she could leave, a firm hand caught her by the wrist.

She glanced over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

With barely a word, Waylon finally reached for the fever tablets and moved to pour himself a glass of water.

Alexia watched him, satisfied. "That's more like it." She turned her attention to the kitchen.

Waiting on the counter was a plate piled with something mysterious. Brow furrowed, she called out,"What exactly is that mess supposed to be?"

Waylon trailed after her, hesitating before answering,"That was meant to be steak. Are you telling me it looks that bad?"

For a mnoment, Alexia just stared. She prodded at the plate, lifted a piece to her lips, and braced herself for the taste test. One bite in, her face twisted in horror.It took all her willpower not to spit it out then and there.

Noticing her distress. Waylon blinked in genuine confusion. He stepped closer, giving her an awkward pat on the back-a rare crack in his usual self-assurance. "Did it really taste that awful?"

Alexia waved him off, stumbling sideways as she chugged glass after glass of water.

When she could finally speak, her face was a patchwork of disbelief, accusation, and secondhand embarrassment. She muttered, "After seven years,your cooking still feels like a crime!"

He didn't reply right away, his expression shuttered and impossible to read.

Disasters in the kitchen had followed him for as long as anyone could remember. Even as a kid, his so-called "kitchen curse" was legendary.

That summer at camp, Alexia had been his unwitting partner in disaster. Both eager to impress, they had ended up on the same outdoor survival team,brimming with misplaced confidence and ready to show everyone up. They collected wild mushrooms with pride, eager to shine as model campers.

Waylon handled the cooking, while Alexia tried to help,unaware of what was coming.

Disaster struck in the form of food poisoning.

It might have stopped there, if not for the bonus round of wild hallucinations after she ate some mushrooms. Alexia could still recall her own outburst -tears, laughter, frantic dancing, and clutching Waylon while saying through tears, "Daddy, please don't leave me." Never before or since had she embarrassed herself quite so thoroughly.

Waylon had insisted the mushrooms were poisonous.Later lab tests revealed the truth-the mushrooms were safe. The problem was that they were undercooked.

People like Waylon, used to excelling at everything,found it impossible to accept defeat. He was convinced his next kitchen experiment would succeed.

Alexia, poor soul, became his unwilling taste tester again and again. It took her losing a noticeable amount of weight before he finally surrendered his spatula.

These memories made Alexia sigh

Tying an apron around her waist, she stepped up to the stove once more. Waylon hovered at her side, far too interested, watching every move as she worked on the pork glaze.

Finishing the sauce, Alexia handed him a spoonful.His eyes lit up with reckless anticipation, as though tasting victory for the first time.

Alexia shot him a look, clearly on guard. "Don't get any ideas."

Waylon angled his head thoughtfully."What if I tried a little more spice? It could really take the flavor up a notch."

Her voice left no room for argument. "Out of the question. Rule number one-just follow the recipe."

A visible wave of disappointment swept over him."That takes all the excitement out of it."

She rolled her eyes, hiding a smirk.

Honestly, who in their right mind tried to make cooking a thrill ride?