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My mate had already separated the yolks and the whites, so I set to work, the beater’s mechanical grinding pulsing through my hand as I held it. But I peered into the bowl as the egg whites stayed as they were.
“They’re not fluffing up. Maybe there was a bit of yolk in there.”
“Keep beating.” Brett threw a dish towel over his shoulder as he washed the shrimp.
While I wasn’t much of a cook, I was pretty sure the shrimp were changing color under the water… the hot water.
“Ummm, sweetheart, maybe use cold water.”
“Huh?” He had one hand under the running water as he bent over and peered into the oven. He stood up, and I jerked my head at the shrimp that were pinkening. “Shite. What have I done?”
Cooked the shrimp under hot water was my take, but I zipped my mouth. I’d said enough.
“Ewww.” We both studied the shrimp, their tails were raw, their middles partly cooked, and their heads were saying, “What the rickety fuck?”
Brett tossed them in the garbage as I was saying, “We could do something with them. Not sure what. Make soup.” Oops, too late.
“We still have the soufflés and the pie.” As the words left my mouth, the oven dinged. Brett slipped on oven gloves and removed the pie. But as he set it atop the stove, the filling spilled over the side.
“It should have gelled.” Brett stuck his face close to the filling, and I turned off the beaters and did the same. “Maybe I got the cooking time wrong.” He checked the recipe. “Nope. It’s more like soup.”
“We could eat it with a spoon,” I suggested. “It’d be yummy.” Maybe.
My snow leopard made a face at the slurpy mess and muttered how raw food was better.
“It’s a disaster.” Tears streamed over my mate’s cheeks, and I rested the beaters on the counter and hugged him. “But we can eat the soufflés.”
We turned our attention to the egg whites, the ones that looked the same as when I started beating them. Trying to stay positive, I suggested we mix the whites and the unused yolks and make scrambled eggs.
Brett and I shared a glance and shook our heads. The poor egg whites had been mistreated enough and neither of us wanted to eat them in any form.
“I have fancy cheese.” Brett opened the fridge and waved a packet of slices at me. “And I have yummy bread.”
“And I brought dark chocolate.” I kissed the end of his nose. “It’ll be a feast.”
When dinner was ready, we each took a tray containing soda, grilled cheese, and chocolate outside, as Brett’s unicorn needed fresh air. My snow leopard wasn’t bothered about being cooped up inside, but after being confronted with a sloppy pie, half-cooked shrimp, and egg whites, he agreed we had to escape the kitchen.
“I’m so sorry.” Brett popped a piece of chocolate in his mouth and bit into the grilled cheese sandwich. “Yum, cheese and chocolate are a great combination. Try it.”
I did and agreed with him. “See, we made a discovery tonight that we mightn’t have if not for the three-course disaster.”
Brett cackled. “Three. I ruined not one, not two, but three courses. That takes some doing.”
“I think you deserve a medal.”
He licked a smidgeon of chocolate from his lips. “And where will you place said medal?”
Hmmm, I needed to consider the location. “Not here.” I kissed his brow. “Not here either.” Another kiss but on his ear. “Probably not here either.” I placed my lips on his chest. I blew a kiss at his crotch. “There. That’s where I’ll put it.”
Brett planted a kiss on my mouth. “You taste delicious.”
“Back at ya.”
We sat in silence, enjoying the cool evening air and mulching on our food.
“What was that?” Brett half stood, holding his tray. He didn’t say, “Did you hear that?” because as two shifters, we knew the other person would have picked it up.
“Yes, it sounds like a puppy.” We walked out to the sidewalk, and as it was garbage night, Brett and his neighbors had their wheelie bins lined up on the curb.
