Page 53 of Kick the Candle (Knight Games 2)
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"The turkey is going to take a few hours. I don't mean to be rude, Seraphina, but I'm going to be working in the kitchen for a while."
"Grateful, I didn't mean to leave that all to you. Let me finish this drink and I'll be in to help." Dad scooted to the edge of his seat.
Seraphina gave me a pouty smile. "I'll help too. I trained as a chef at a prestigious school in France."
Was she kidding me? A chef? Over my dead body. I could only imagine what Seraphina would think of the frozen turkey on the counter, and there was no way I was suffering her critique of my lacking culinary skills for... as long as it took to cook a frozen turkey. It was a matter of pride. Maybe I hadn't attended a European culinary school, but I could cook dinner for my dad. "You know what? Why don't I get the turkey started while you guys enjoy your drinks, and then you can help with the salad a little closer to dinner?"
The two lovebirds didn't argue with me. In fact, my dad scooted closer to Seraphina as he nodded his head. Great. I was officially relegated to third wheel status. I shook it off and headed back into the kitchen where I dialed Logan. He answered on the first ring.
"How do you thaw a turkey?"
Logan cleared his throat. "Two days in the cooler."
"I've gotta cook this sucker this afternoon."
"How big?
"Twelve pounds."
"I've heard you can cook it from frozen but it takes five hours and the results are inconsistent."
"Inconsistent?"
"It might taste like rubber."
I groaned. "Six isn't too late to eat rubber turkey," I said hopefully. "So just throw it in a pan and pop it in the oven?"
"Melt some butter over the top, salt it inside and out. You and the bird will be golden."
"Thanks."
"You are still coming Saturday, right?" he asked.
"Wouldn't miss it."
"Good, because we need to talk about us. No interruptions. I need to know where I stand in your life." Metal clanked against metal in the background.
"Where are you?" I changed the subject, desperate to avoid the inevitable conversation, even though I was dying to invite him over to help cook dinner.
"Volunteering at the mission. My dad's coming into town later for a low key dinner though."
The mission! As if Logan could possibly be any more attractive, now he was backlit by a halo. But oddly, when I thought about seeing Logan on Saturday, I didn't tingle with excitement. I dreaded it. Every day he'd been out of my attic, my thoughts of him had gravitated more toward planet friendship than over the moon. And it wasn't because of Rick or my commitment to him. Something had shifted between us. Maybe it was the loss of the connection we'd shared when I was sorting his soul. I wasn't sure. My feelings for him were garbled and confused. Random memories of our time under the same roof mixed with feelings at odds with each other.
"Thanks again and happy Thanksgiving," I said in a voice more cheerful than my disposition.
"Grateful, one last thing."
"Yeah?"
"You could always bamboozle it."
"Bamboozle?"
"You know, bippidy boppity blip, perfect Thanksgiving dinner."
I huffed in offense. "Logan Valentine, I'll have you know, I am woman enough to make a Thanksgiving dinner without the use of magic."
