Page 20 of Our Elliana
“You could focus on lawn care and vehicle maintenance instead. Men are born with the genome to be experts on that shit, right? Or does conventional wisdom have it wrong?” I bat my eyelashes at him. Conventional wisdom also purports that I should be unemployed, pregnant, and the one sequestered in that kitchen. Barefoot, preferably.
To hell with that.
Besides, I have next to no talent in said kitchen. My mom was an excellent cook, but no matter how much she attempted to teach me, I never had the flare she had for it. I just can’t seem to master the culinary craft, nor do I have any desire to try.
Her dying when I was fifteen might have something to do with that. If someone as loving and patient as my own mother couldn’t get me much further than boiling water, then no one else stands a chance.
Jackson laughs, in on the joke, and so do I. Yet I’m trying to figure him out. Does he want me to think of him as some sort of incorrigible perv, or is this just an example of his humor and personality? In order to find out more, I rattle off an idea at random.
“I say we play a game. Are you all in?”
“Of course, sweet thing,” Jackson drawls, but he’s the only one.
“What kind of game?” Tristan asks.
“Hot Seat. I’ll ask the three of you random personal questions, and if I feel like you’re being honest, you get to ask me one in return.”
Tristan seems to measure the pros and cons as he tips his head back and forth, but it’s Jackson who I study more closely. For a passing moment, his expression dims as if a raincloud is hovering over his head, but as soon as I see it the look is gone.
Was it ever even there?
“All right,” my chef agrees with a shrug, bringing my focus back to him.
“Okay,” Noah joins in good-naturedly.
“I’ll start with you then,” I squint at my youngest contractor with mischief. This ought to be interesting. “If you could text someone without that person ever being able to identify you, who would you text and what would the message be?”
That could be fairly juicy. But though I expect him to give me a softball answer, he digs right in.
“If I could be a fly on the wall, I’d do it to Elder Lehi. He’s the one whose accusations against my mom and dad for stealing church funds got us all excommunicated. I’d text, ‘I have proof that you’re the one who actually stole that money, not the Canters, and the evidence exonerating them has already been sent to the council.’ Then, I’d stand by to see if he would squirm.”
TEN: Hot Seat
ELLIANA
Well, that’s even juicier than I thought. I still need more information, though.