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“A time or two maybe, but as exhausting as it can be, I love it. I like being recognized and making people laugh. I’m sure there’s a psychologist somewhere who would love to analyze me, but what’s wrong with being honest? Actresses and performers do what they do because they love the spotlight and so do I.”
Declan thought about everything he’d done throughout his life to avoid being the center of attention.
“It’s like your art,” Holly blurted, surprising him.
“What?”
“You love showing your work off. You’re good and you know it, so even though you hang back as you create, when you finish? You can’t wait for others to see what you’ve done.”
“That’s what you think, huh?”
Holly came up alongside him and bumped him with her hip, knocking him to the side. “Yeah, I do.”
“You’d be right. When I think I’ve done good, I want to share it. Like the cooking process.”
“Wait, let me turn on the camera,” she said, skidding to the other side of him. Holly picked up a small remote from the other side of the counter and pressed a button. “There. Now we can start.”
Before he could respond, Holly beamed at the camera and started talking. “Hi guys. Tonight, I’m trying something a little different. Those people who know me in real life realized a long time ago I have no culinary talents, but a friend of mine thinks he can change that, so he’s going to be off camera giving me a cooking lesson while I try not to mess this up. Are we ready?”
Holly twisted her body so part of her faced him, and she grinned. “You’re up, Teach.”
Declan glanced at the camera and took a deep breath.
What have I gotten myself into?
CHAPTER 27
Holly stared down at the pan of Chicken Cordon Bleu, frowning. “I’m pretty sure I messed something up.”
Declan chuckled, studying his two stuffed breasts on the left versus the ones she made on the right. While everything was spread and placed in neat layers inside his chicken, Holly’s looked like she’d shoved the contents in with her fingers and the results resembled—
“Oh God,” Holly gasped, clasping her hand over her mouth. “I just realized that they look like vajayjays!”
Declan attempted to smother his laughter, but it didn’t work. “Your presentation needs work, but I guarantee you it will be delicious.”
“No, but like, what was I thinking?” she asked, picking up the pan and showing it first to him and then turning it towards the camera. “I swear this was not on purpose.”
“It will be fine once it’s cooked.” He took the pan from her and slipped it into the open oven. “Now we wait thirty-five minutes, and while that’s baking we work on the sides.”
Holly groaned. “This is how I feel after grocery shopping, usually right before I call and order a pizza or a pick-up from Lord of the Fries.”
“Not after you try my cheesy garlic mashed potatoes, and asparagus in lemon sauce. You’ll never order take-out when you can make everything better at home.”
“Ah, so does that mean we’re done with the cooking lesson and you’re going to do the rest while I watch?” she asked, shooting him a wink before she tried to escape around the counter.
Declan caught her by the back of her shirt, careful to stay out of what he hoped was the camera frame, and reeled her back. “Not so fast. You’ve got potatoes to peel.”
“Ugh!”
“Don’t give me that. Haven’t you heard the story of The Little Red Hen?”
“A long time ago. My mom used to read me nursery rhymes and old fables like that.”
“The moral of Little Red is if you’re lazy and don’t help, then you don’t get to reap the benefits of someone else’s hard work.” He tossed her one of the potatoes he’d just scrubbed and pointed to the cutting board. “Your instrument is there. I want each of those potatoes peeled in less than twenty seconds or you’re not getting dessert.”
“You’re timing me now?”
“Go!”
