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“Pan seared chicken with red wine sauce.”
“And you’ve already seared the chicken?”
I glance over at the two chicken fillets. They’re lumpy and parts appear burnt while other parts aren’t even brown, but they’re seared. I think. Never mind I don’t understand what seared means.
“Yes.”
“And you’ve added the aromatics?”
“What are aromatics?” I scroll through the recipe. “There aren’t any aromatics mentioned here.”
“Did you fry any shallots, onions, or garlic in the pan after you seared the chicken?”
I study the pan with the blackened bits of onion and garlic. “Yes.”
“Okay. Good. Now add a quarter to half cup of the red wine.”
I grab the bottle of wine and pour some in the pan. Flames shoot from the pan into the air.
“Fire! I started a fire!”
“I’m contacting the fire department.”
Flynn rushes in behind me and grabs the skillet from the oven before rushing outside with it where he sprays it with a fire extinguisher.
“What are you doing?” I wail. “You ruined our dinner.”
He grabs my phone from me. “Paisley, you can cancel the fire department. The fire has been extinguished.”
“Consider it done. Goodbye,” she rings off and he hands me my phone.
He places his hands on my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“No, I am not! You ruined our dinner.”
He chuckles. “I’m guessing you haven’t learned to cook since high school.”
“You can’t hold my cooking mistakes from when I was a teenager against me. I didn’t realize paprika and cayenne pepper looked the same. I grabbed the red powder the way Mom told me to.”
He shivers. “My mouth still burns if I think about it.”
“Exaggerate much?”
He rubs a finger over my forehead. “Why do you have flour in your hair?”
“It’s not my fault. Someone should really find a better method for packaging flour. I’ll ask Paisley. She’ll have a mock-up done in no time.”
He grasps my hand and leads me back inside to the kitchen. He sighs when he sees the mess I’ve created.
“I was planning on having everything cleaned up by the time you got home.” I check the clock. “Why are you home this early anyway?”
“Why are you home this early?” He repeats my question.
I gesture toward the kitchen. “Duh. I was preparing a dinner surprise for you.”
“You were?”
“Emphasis on the past tense since you sprayed the pan with the fire extinguisher.”
