Page 59 of The Way I Hate Him
“Yes, greatest hits for sure.”
“I know.” She moves behind me, wraps her arms around me and places her hand on top of mine that’s holding the mixer.
“Are you trying to make a move on me?”
“No, you anus.” I snort. “I’m trying to teach you, but you’re far too big for this position. I’m going to have to mirror you.”
She pushes me toward the end of the island, climbs on top of the counter, and then sitting cross-legged in front of me, she takes my hand again and looks me in the eye. “Are you ready?”
“I don’t know. This contraption looks scary, and you seem to be irritated.”
“Just know, if you piss me off, I can use these beaters on your crotch and turn your dick into straight up applesauce.”
“What . . . the fuck?”
She doesn’t reply. Instead, she turns on the mixer, and it flies against the side of the bowl.
“Christ, Hayes. You have muscles, use them. Steady the mixer.”
Butter flies all over the bowl and the counter as I try to rein in the machine. “Well, warn a guy before you just turn it on.”
“Wasn’t aware you were so weak.”
“I’m not fucking weak,” I shoot back as we steady the mixer and together beat the butter.
“Technically, this is called creaming the butter,” she says after a few moments of silence. “But I figured you would be massively inappropriate if I said cream the butter.”
“You don’t give me enough credit,” I say. “I’m not that immature.”
“Debatable.” She turns off the hand mixer. Instead of getting off the counter, she stays seated and says, “Okay, sugar now. One cup of white, one cup of brown.”
“That’s a lot of sugar.”
“Are you judging my cookies?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Just surprised.”
“The reason they’re good, Hayes, is because there’s a lot of sugar in them, and of course, because of the almond extract.”
“Question,” I say as I measure the sugar. “Do I get any of these cookies?”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “No, I’m just going to let you help me make them, use your kitchen, and then hoard them for myself. Honestly, Hayes . . . you really are an anus.”
“Glad you’re using that term loosely. And you’re right . . . unexpected, funny, yet . . . gross.”
She leans on one hand. “Stick around, I have so much more to teach you.”
We spend the next few minutes adding eggs, the almond extract, and then putting together the dry mixture in another bowl. I had no idea making cookies was this intricate, but apparently, it’s a treasured pastime for Hattie.
“Did Cassidy teach you this recipe?” I ask as she pulls out the maraschino cherries she dried last night.
“She did. She wanted a signature cookie she could sell at the shop, and when she was trying to figure out what would pair well with almonds, she knew cherries and white chocolate were going to be a great match. And before you ask, she didn’t go with milk or dark chocolate because she was afraid the flavor profile was going to overpower the almond.”
“Makes sense,” I say. “The combination sounds good to me.”
“It’s delicious. The first time I brought Maggie back to Almond Bay, she had one and has been hooked ever since. I’d just grab some from Aubree, but she seemed inundated with work, so I figured making them would be just as fine.”
“And you’re teaching me, so basically a win-win for you.”
