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Noble
Even though we’re being surveilled, things seem more private now that we’ve moved to the kitchen in Jenna’s bakery. All the appliances arrived early this morning, fitting perfectly into the spaces between the cabinetry.
The large center island, five feet by five feet, is topped with white marble. Jenna’s so thrilled with it, she keeps unconsciously sliding her fingers across the smooth, cool, countertop. She explained something about it being every serious baker’s dream. I’m not sure I understand, but I’m thrilled it makes her happy.
“Okay, big guy. We are making our first batches of cupcakes today. It’s all your fault we horsed around yesterday.” Her smile is stretched wide across her face, making her impossibly more beautiful than I’ve ever seen her.
“Whoops.” She looks genuinely worried. “Are there horse-guys in the south barracks? I don’t want to offend—”
“We’re splicers, Jenna. No need to try to be politically correct with us. We don’t care. We’re just happy to breathe fresh air.” The mood has been light between us, but I can’t keep from leaning closer and murmuring, “Happy to breathe fresh air with the scent of Jenna on it.”
She pretends her breathing didn’t spike. She has no idea I can hear her heartbeat.
Opening her computer pad, she says, “I’ve been gathering recipes since I started baking in earnest at the age of ten. I have hundreds of my favorite recipes in here, but we’re going to narrow them down. The top ten will be perennials we’ll serve every day. I’ll place the others into a rotation of specials.”
I watch as she flips from page to page. Each has a recipe, notations, and close-up photos taken with such precision they could go into a cookbook.
“You, Noble, are going to be the final arbiter of the winners.”
“But… I have no idea what I’m doing. I mostly fed on kibble and scraps the first twenty-five years of my life, then MREs and military food since I was freed. I’m the last person you should trust with such important decisions.”
“No. You’re perfect. I’m not going to be feeding Michelin judges. For the next two years, I’ll be feeding human women, military guys who aren’t allowed off premises, and splicers.”
She must have gotten over her aversion to the word, which is a good thing. It’s how we refer to ourselves.
“You, sir, are my target demographic.”
I shrug, but get to work gathering the items she requests from the pantry. I assumed she would be an excellent baker. It’s her passion, after all. I never dreamed she would be such a great teacher. She’s patient with me even when I forget the difference between clotted and regular cream.
When the first of my long mane hairs drifts into the mixing bowl, her body shudders with displeasure.
“It’s not you, Noble. It’s all my fault. I thought you’d hate wearing a hairnet, but I should have asked you to put one on.”
I watched as she scooped her hair into a net before we began, but thought it was more to keep the batter out of her hair than her hair out of the batter.
In the past, I never gave much thought to my looks. What prisoner has the time or energy for such a thing? Since I’ve been free, I’ve never really believed I would be in the same room as a female, so worrying about my appearance never occurred to me.
It’s only after she tucks my mane into a hairnet and steps back, that for the first time in my life, I’m concerned about what I look like.
“I wouldn’t care about this, Jenna,” I motion vaguely toward my head, “if you weren’t giggling like a madwoman.”
“S-sorry.” She’s laughing so hard she can barely talk. “It’s just that you look… ridiculous. Big, bad, lion-man who looks scary enough to eat me up has been transformed into a…” She covers her mouth with both hands, which does nothing to stop the giggles bubbling out of her mouth. Finally, she finishes her sentence through gales of laughter. “Transformed into a lunch lady.”
I have no idea what a lunch lady is other than by her tone, which tells me I don’t want to look like one. My first thought is to cover her in flour, but it’s already been done. Instead, I roar. It starts low, as a prank, but my instincts run away with me and I roar so loudly it would blow back her hair if her shiny brown strands weren’t contained in a net.
For the briefest moment, Jenna’s eyes widen in fear, then her laughter gets louder. She steps so close it forces me to open my arms to her and soon we’re in an embrace.
Her laughter is contagious and we can’t stop laughing for a solid minute. I expect Barton and Watson to barge in from where they’ve been waiting in the other room. I’m certain they’ve been watching on the video feed. Perhaps they see this is completely non-sexual, because they leave us alone until our laughter fades and we step away from each other.
“I guess we should get back to the serious business of baking,” Jenna says as she tries to wipe the happy smile off her face.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jenna
I’ve had uncontrollable laughter before, but never like that, never so filled with absolute joy. And I shared it with serious lion-man, Noble. It was terrific. Chef’s kiss.
The laughter subsided into giggles, which dwindled to chuckles. Since then, we finished three different batters, five varieties of frosting, and now we’ve removed the third batch of cupcakes from the oven.
