The Unlucky Turn by Mark Twain 259

Leilani accompanied Callahan to his door, assuming he still had packing to do, and was intending to take the elevator back to her own place. But Callahan suddenly scooped her up into his arms.

Leilani let out a startled cry, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Where are you trying to run off to so fast? Didn’t we agree to have dinner together?”

Callahan took out his keys to open the door. He carried her toward the dining room, his tone matter-of-fact. “We went on a date together. The date isn’t complete without eating together.”

“Then put me down!”

“No.”

“Callahan!”

“I’m listening.”

Callahan placed Leilani on a chair at the dining table and turned into the kitchen.

Leilani sat there, watching as he skillfully put on an apron and rolled up his sleeves, revealing his defined forearms. She felt a moment of daze.

Callahan could cook? In her impression, a privileged heir like Callahan shouldn’t even know how to

enter a kitchen.

Callahan seemed to sense her gaze and glanced back at her. “What, don’t believe I can cook?”

Leilani cleared her throat, pretending to be calm. “Just a little surprised.”

Callahan chuckled low. He took ingredients out of the refrigerator and began processing them with practiced movements.

“I learned when I was studying abroad.”

“The food there didn’t suit your taste?” Leilani asked curiously.

“Yeah.” Callahan didn’t look up, his tone flat. “After six months of fast food and cold sandwiches, I couldn’t take it anymore, so I learned myself.”

Leilani blinked, surprised that he had such a history. She had always assumed Callahan’s life was smooth sailing, filled with luxury since childhood, and that even studying abroad would have involved an entourage of staff attending to his needs.

But watching him stand at the counter cutting vegetables gave him a strangely domestic feel. Suddenly, he didn’t seem so high above her or unreachable anymore.

Callahan cooked quickly. Before long, wafts of delicious aromas drifted from the kitchen.

Leilani hadn’t felt hungry initially, but smelling the food caused her stomach to let out a traitorous growl. Her face stiffened, and she pretended not to hear it.

Callahan, however, seemed to notice. The corners of his lips lifted as he plated the sautéed vegetables and brought the dish over to her. “Taste this.”

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A simple plate of stir-fried seasonal vegetables was placed in front of Leilani. The color was vibrant, and it smelled appetizing.

Leilani picked up her fork and took a bite, her eyes lighting up in surprise. “It’s good.”

Callahan’s eyes filled with amusement. “Eat slowly. There’s more coming.”

Over the next half hour, Leilani watched him bring out dish after dish from the kitchen-roast beef, grilled salmon, tomato soup….

Although they were home-cooked meals, they looked and smelled perfect, completely rivaling outside restaurants.

Leilani couldn’t help but ask, “Do you cook often?”

Why hadn’t she seen him cook the last time she was here?

Callahan shook his head. “I rarely do. Work is busy, so I don’t have much time. Usually, the staff prepares it and leaves it in the fridge for me to heat up.”

He paused, looking up at her with a smile in his eyes. “But perhaps I can cook more often in the future.”

Leilani’s hand paused. Pretending not to understand the implication in his words, she lowered her head and took a bite. “Oh. Then I’ll definitely have to come over to mooch off your meals more often.”

Callahan looked at the slightly red tips of her ears, the smile in his eyes deepening. “Sure. My door is always open.”

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