Never Cook Again Novels & Stories

But I could not form the sentence with the right words. " Mom, I promise to be more careful in the future and to always pay attention to the cooking process," I said instead. " Next time, I will not allow you to cook on your own. Either Sia or I will be around. " " Oh, no Mom... But then how will I learn to cook confidently like you and Sia Aunty? "

he assured me, and I looked at him, wanting to believe him. A strange feeling that something bad was going to happen came over me, and in the end, I only finished half my plate. As I handed off my plate to the maids, I vowed that I would take everything Lip, and Lockhart had to teach me. And I would bring the Unseelie King down so no more harm would come unto others.

“Ahaa! Here you go! You should prep everything before you start cooking!” “Did you follow a recipe, or were you winging it?” “It was my own idea. I thought it couldn’t be that hard.” “Rookie mistake. Never freestyle unless you’ve made the dish five times in the last month. You have to stick to the algorithm on the recipe, read it, and then follow through.” “I still think anything can burn in an instant. I swear, I just blink and it's already on fire like it’s auditioning for a barbecue,” Lucas said with a shake of his head while other chuckled.

His blue eyes caught the light, adding to the whole effortlessly attractive vibe he had going on. I couldn’t resist. I grabbed a fork and snuck a bite of the creamy chicken. “Oh my God, I forgot how good of a cook you are,” I mumbled as I chewed, savoring the rich flavors. Cole gave a small laugh, “Why? I made food for you back when I came over to your place, remember?” I grinned, “Yeah, but then we got married, and it never happened again.” He quirked an eyebrow at me, turning his attention back to the stove. “Well, how about this, I’ll cook once every weekend. How’s that sound?”

This was followed by a merry chuckle. I frowned. As usual, that blood brother of mine was making fun of me. When he grandly appeared at the door, I gave him a good glare and said, “I’ve only ever burned our meal once, Reo, and that was two years ago. I’m better at cooking now, thanks to Aiden.” “Is that so?” Reo said, clearly showing signs of doubting my statement. He flicked his gaze to Jess then and gave her a smile. “Hey, Jess.”

I slid to the side, skillet in one hand, sass in the other. “No touching,” I reminded him, glancing at him over my shoulder. “Be a good boy.” Pierce grunted like some caveman being denied fire. Or in his case, forbidden fruit in lingerie. I turned back to the stove, giving the onions a swirl. “You might as well learn to cook while you’re back there. God knows you can’t even boil milk without starting a house fire.” He smacked my as$ and squeezed it. I let out a squeak, straightened so fast I nearly flung onions at the ceiling.

" I don't say yesterday to cook this again for me now. I don't say that to you. I say it to-- " " Wait! Yeah! You're right, you don't say to cook this again now... " He said while thinking and rubbing his chin. "... You said to cook this every day! Don't worry! I will cook it for you every day. " He leans on the table and raises his both eyebrows. Shhooott! I'm gonna see him every day? Arrrgg! This plan is way harder than I thought. ----________,_________----

he tried to coax me not to cook, “ if you try to prevent me from such little things as cooking and expect me to watch tv all day then you don’t love me and our unborn child, cause you shoving us to depression” He wanted to argue back, but he seemed to come to an understanding “ alright I understand, let me dash to the shower I will be back in 5 to assist you Mrs. Matthews” he packed my lips before turning to our bedroom direction “ don’t cut your hands, don’t burn yourself and don’t….” I chided in “ just go Tom I started cooking at the age of 14 stop nagging me”

Our gas cookers and the gas cylinders were so sacrosanct, it was a no-go area for the kids. No amount of excitement or tantrum must make any of you tamper with these items, Mummy would warn us repeatedly as she pointed out to the gas cylinders and the gas cookers, sometimes drawing our ears. This used to be painful as she added a little pressure while doing it, but it always had a way of making us remember her instructions: Some of such instructions were never to collect things from strangers, never to eat anything without showing her first or getting her approval to do so.

They let out sighs of relief. “You’re all overreacting, you know,” I complained, lifting the straw to my mouth to sip the juice, gazing down into my drink. “The bacon was spoiled, and the cook burned them. That’s not a good combination. Plus, the overused oil only upset my stomach. So will you stop being the food police?”