‘What’s cookin’, good lookin’?’, winked Jose, plopping down the bag of groceries on the counter. ‘Since the fragrance of oranges and cinnamon is trailing right down the street…’, she felt his grin as he kissed her neck. ‘…let me guess, your famous Spiced Orange compote?’ his hands circled her waist. She nudged him away, smiling, as she checked on her compote before she turned towards him.
‘I love the way the steam from your pots and pans curls your hair’, Jose held her face between his hands.
‘Ah! Go on, then! Don’t you have loads to do?’ she countered, the grin never leaving her face.
‘Yes, Mrs James, I surely do’ Jose gave a theatrical bow ‘and I shall’ he straightened up, grabbed her for a quick kiss and let himself out of the back door.
She stirred the compote with a dreamy look on her face
‘What’s cooking?’ she heard his voice behind her ‘is that your Spiced Orange Compote, again?’
She turned to look at her grimacing husband, whose eyes travelled all over the kitchen, making a visual inventory of the shelves
‘Oh well, that, with your cake, is one of the most asked for desserts in the restaurant, so should be okay.’
He scribbled something in his book.
‘What else is cooking?’ he asked, looking at his watch, and walked away as she opened her mouth to reply.
‘Betrayal, hatred and resentment’ the words danced in her thoughts.
This post has been written for the Wordy Wednesday Blog challenge