Page 31 of Words Unspoken

She leaned her forehead against his chest and took in a shaky breath. “Michael, you scared me badly!”

Her shirt had ridden up a little and his hands were on her bare ribs. She was still wearing just what she had slept in, a pair of shorts and his tee shirt. His right thumb trailed across her skin. Ann looked up to see Michael watching her.

Before her good sense could kick in, she went up on her tippy toes and kissed him. He tasted like coffee and something that was uniquely Michael. Desire unfurled in her stomach as he kissed her back.

“Oh my!” FenLei was in the doorway looking at them, the overturned chair and glass scattered across the floor. “What burn?”

Ann sniffed. The eggs! She ran to the kitchen just as the fire alarm began to trill loudly. Grabbing them off the stove she rushed to the back door, throwing the pan and the burnt-on eggy mess into the sand.

“First time I see that,” FenLei remarked to Michael.

He nodded.

“You stay put. Bare feet and glass. I get broom,” FenLei moved around him. He disregarded her words, picking up the chair, avoiding the glass. He used the chair to stand on, took the cover off the trilling fire alarm cover and yanked out the battery. There was merciful silence afterward.

“Could have cut feet,” FenLei shook her head as she swept up the mess.

Michael ignored her and went to the deck to find Ann. She was leaning against the railing looking at the waves. The pan was in the sand below. Michael leaned on the railing and looked at the pan. It was probably a good thing that he could not say anything. He didn’t think there was anything to say about that pan that would not get a man into trouble.

As for the kiss… his body was still thrumming.

He reached over to take her hand and she pulled away from him. He watched her with concern.

Ann stared at the water. “I am sorry Michael. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It was not right. We cannot repeat it.”

He reached out, but she backed away, looking brittle. “Excuse me.”

Ann walked inside and he turned to watch the waves, thinking. She had initiated it but now regretted the kiss. She was in love with Max so why had she kissed him? He supposed, in the moment, he might remind her of his brother. It was a depressing thought.

∞

What was she doing? He was in love with someone else and she had practically thrown herself at him. It was embarrassing. Ann went to get changed into some regular clothes. As she sorted through the selection she had brought she thought about the kiss.

Michael was an excellent kisser. Her toes had curled. His hot hands on her ribs… she wondered if it might have gone anywhere if FenLei had not come in and the eggs had not burned.

Her life was such a mess. She grabbed her cellphone and called Elle. She needed a girls’ night out.

∞

Michael was bored. He had books littering the entire house and he could not read one of them. He could not call anyone. What would he do? Tap Morse code? He had already jogged today. No one was around. FenLei had a school function for one of her kids, so he was supposed to make a simple sandwich for dinner. Ann was out with the girls, and he had refused to have anyone babysit him. Michael wanted to be independent. He also did not feel like having a sandwich.

Driven to the television out of desperation, he idly flipped through the channels. There was no baseball game. Football was going on, but he never bothered to really learn or understand the sport. He played golf, he didn’t watch it. That was boring. He spent fifteen minutes on the business channel before deciding that it didn’t matter, that part of his life was over.

Michael paused on the food channel. They were going to make a steak. Steak sounded good. He had steak in the freezer, didn’t he? The chef promised it would be easy to make with step-by-step instructions. Well, Michael had done company mergers, how hard could it be to cook a steak?

Michael turned up the volume and dug around in the kitchen. They were talking about spices in the background. He was pretty sure FenLei had a number of spices. He would not be able to read them, but he could give them a quick taste test. If it tasted good, he would sprinkle some on the steak. Easy.

He pulled out a frozen steak and looked at the television. His looked a little larger. They were talking cuts of meat and he really didn’t know the difference between a T-bone or a portabella steak. Whatever, meat was meat. The chefs had their steak cooking already. Not wanting to get left behind, Michael pulled out a pan and set the steak in it. He put the flame on high and settled the pan on the stove.

They talked about thyme and rosemary and all sorts of green little bits that looked like chopped grass. Michael carefully perused the spice rack, choosing at random, sniffing and then tasting. One made his tongue feel on fire! He grabbed a glass of water and downed it. He threw a couple of pinches of the ones he liked on plus some salt and pepper. Who said cooking was difficult?

They were going to put together some potatoes and a sauce. Hmmn. Michael rummaged in the pantry and pulled out a couple of potatoes. His were larger than the tiny ones that they had on the screen. Well, he would just have two instead of the dozen they were making. They put them in boiling water. He could do that. He grabbed a pan, filled it with water, plunked in the two potatoes and set that on the stove, cranking the burner to high.

Michael pulled a beer out of the fridge and took a drink while he watched the host and chef gather the ingredients for the sauce. They were cutting up a tomato. He had seen some in the fridge. He grabbed it out and got another pan on the stove. By the time Michael found the cutting board they were dicing onions. They were going a little fast for him. Well did it matter if the tomato was cut perfectly? He was just going to eat it anyways. He set it on the cutting board and hit it firmly with a pot, causing it to flatten, juice flying.

Maybe that had not been the best idea. He looked at the tomato and shrugged. It looked broken up to him. That was pretty much the same as dicing. Michael slid it from the cutting board into the pan on the stove. He doubted he could flatten an onion like that. Grabbing one from the fridge he wondered if the peel was supposed to be taken off or left on?

Carrots? Did he even have those? He looked at the television. They were going too fast. He looked in the fridge and pantry and came up with a carrot. Grabbing a knife, he cut up the onion and carrot, tossing the pieces in the pan. They were not as small or nice as the chef on television had made but they would have to do.