Novel & Cerita The Man Who Couldn't Cook

She said to him and hoped he does not get offended by it. “And so you end up with this?” The man asked her and pushed the soup away. She watched him stand up and looked at her disdainfully. . “I think you need to go learn how to cook properly ... Useless woman...” He said and marched to the door. “Where are you going?” She asked him. “To go eat a better food, of course... Not this nonsense you presented as food.

"What did I do to deserve this?" Instead of answering, he picked up a spoon from the tray. "You know, I’m a terrible cook. This took me hours. I burned the first pot. Second one came out better. Maybe because I added more pepper. I think you'll like it. Or not. Doesn't really matter, I guess." I blinked at him in disbelief. "You're insane." "Probably," he said, not even offended. "But enough chit-chat. Eat." He tried to bring the spoon to my mouth, but I turned my head away.

he said shrugging avoiding eye contact with me. "Oh, how considerate of you, thanks for not waking me up and kicking me out." I said he rolled his eyes trying to suppress a smile. "So, is that eatable or am I gonna get food poisoning?" he glared at me, "What? Not many young people know how to cook." "Well, I'm a 26 unemployed man who's living off his parents love and money until I find a job, I can't afford to be buying prepared food." "Oh, I see." I said trying to ignore the fact that he's five years older than me. It's not that I care but I'm sure he will, some people don't like that stuff.

He also served rice, after that he stared at me. I didn't know that he could cook, he didn't look like he knew how to cook. The biggest turn on for me is the man who knows how to cook. Duh, what would I do with your good looks if you can't even cook? Being handsome is a plus! "What?" "If I didn't cook, you wouldn't eat breakfast either?" he asked me. I swallowed because of the guilt I felt. "Uh yeah. You see, I'm so busy that I can't cook breakfast sometimes. Only once." I defended myself. He didn't say anything anymore so I was relieved.

Trying harder did not occur to him, coming from a family where achievement was a right, at least until business fell and he ended up here in hopes of reviving it. "Anyway, I will be good enough to say that my offer does stand if you have no other option. And word of warning," he chuckled, one of actual amusement. "Never annoy the cook, trust me, she isn't an enemy you want to have! Not unless you like finding unsavoury tastes in your food. She knows all the bitter and unpleasant herbs and seeds to use if she's upset. Never anything dangerous but the taste lasts..." He wrinkled his nose at the memory. It took over a day to get rid of it.

When they were talking on WeChat last night, she made rhetoric promises. This was what she said, “Gracie Turner, not that I’m trying to brag, but my foresight is too good to be true. The person I pulled off the street was the God of Cooking! His cooking skills, even the Michelin chef in the Imperial Extravagance can’t hold a candle to him, okay?” Not only had they not done anything, but the kitchen was also in a mess, and with the expressionless man standing next to her— God of Cooking?

“Yeah. Why do you ask?” “Because you got this far-off look on your face, and you’re just poking at your food. I mean, you’re not the best cook in the world, but it’s not that bad.” Scott snorted with amusement. “Thanks,” he said wryly. He looked down at the half-burnt meatloaf and overcooked vegetables. He couldn’t believe that he had the ability to amass a billion-dollar fortune, create the most in-demand construction company in the U.S., and be a decent single father, yet he still couldn’t cook; especially after being a bachelor for seven years. Oh well, I guess I can’t be perfect at everything.

He was the one in the wrong—until you hear his explanation, he’s still not in your good books. “Is that so? Have he been eating well?” I asked—that man doesn’t cook. He doesn’t opt for take away unless it’s his last choice. Angry or not at what he did, I am still worried about him. If things turns out to be worse after we talk—I better find someone to at least cook for him.

That small realization stirred something unfamiliar and bittersweet in her chest, a sensation she couldn’t quite place but found herself liking. "I didn’t know you could cook," Maria remarked, picking up her utensils and tasting the food. Her eyes widened further in surprise at how good it was. This man really was a hidden gem. Sidney, his voice calm as always, said, "I grew up in an ordinary family. I learned to cook when I was a teenager." With his mother frequently ill, he had taken on the household responsibilities early on. Cooking had been one of the most basic things he had to master.

''He gives a smile. ''You learn fast. ''I roll my eyes. ''Okay, I can't cook because of my hand, you know? '' I question without believing that they know how to cook. ''Hey. Just because we're mob leaders doesn't mean we can't cook. ''Damon speaks as if he's read my mind. ''Then show me. ''I sit at the counter and watch them. They both look at me and shake their heads. ''Then wait.