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Ingrid set the plate on Cullen’s desk. “Just try one! I promise, these are much better than the last batch. I swear it on my mother’s life!”
“Seeing as how you despise your mother, I’m not sure if that’s much of a guarantee,” Cullen teased, looking at her skeptically. He loved this woman more than he thought possible, yet he couldn’t bring himself to even swallow a bite of her last attempt at baking. She was good at many things, but this wasn’t one of them. Even Ingrid had to admit that they were horrendous and they had thrown the whole batch out, laughing about it all. Still, she was apparently determined to get it right, she had been spending much of her free time in the kitchen these days. Having grown up a noble, she’d never had to cook, and she had taken up learning how to bake as a personal cause.
“Cullen!”
“Alright, alright, I’ll try one.” He took one cookie and examined it – it had a thick layer of sugared cream on top; a bold move for an inexperienced baker. As she watched him eagerly, he braced himself and took a bite.
This is not bad, he thought. Actually, it’s delicious. Too delicious, and so very familiar….
“Mm, it’s good, very good,” he nodded as he chewed, examining the cookie. “I like the cream, I wonder why you chose to add it?” He regarded her with amusement.
“Well, you know me, always making bold creative choices.” She sounded a bit nervous.
Cullen set the cookie down and took off one his gloves, never taking his eyes off of her. Using his index finger, he swept the cream off of the cookie in one motion, revealing a small brown “X” in the middle.
“Well, what do we have here? Looks like Cook’s signature cinnamon mark she puts on all of her butter cookies, doesn’t it?” Barely containing his amusement, he stuck his finger in his mouth and sucked the cream off, watching her with sparkling eyes.
Ingrid’s mouth open and closed, her hands fidgeting. “How did you…I…well, I still made them! I mean, I put them in the oven and I spread on the cream!”
Cullen let out a low rumbling laugh. She was adorable when she was caught being pig-headed. “Ingrid, that’s cheating!”
“It is not! It’s called improvising.”
That made Cullen laugh even harder.
“Fine – baking isn’t my strong suit, alright? I don’t even really enjoy it, honestly. I just hate failing at anything.”
Cullen gestured to her to sit on his lap; she obliged. He wrapped his arms around her. “Darling, you are good at literally everything else you put your mind to, it’s alright if this is one area where you don’t excel. I still love you even if you make terrible cookies.”
She sighed, leaning into him. “I love you too, and you’re right, as always.” She grabbed a cookie and took a bite. “Mm, these are really good, aren’t they?”
He took the cookie from her and took a huge bite. “Yes, and what is that Cole always says? You helped.”