Page 31 of Master B-0361

“Ugh,I have to stop laughing. I just…can’t.”

“One more episode,” my Master chuckled. “This is great. It’s just getting good.”

“I’m going to pay for this later. I just know it. My poor stomach.”

The smile faded from Sebastian’s face, taken over by a seriousness. He was sitting on the other side of the sofa, and there’d been such a comfortable companionship between us as we shared popcorn and started a new comedy series, but that was over now as he leaned closer to my curled, propped up body.

“I didn’t consider your injuries. Are you okay?”

“I’m a little sore. I just need a quick breather before we start the next. It’s okay. The injuries weren’t bad, really. I probably could have come home the second day.”

“It’s true. They could have been worse. We were lucky.”

At his change, I couldn’t help but sit higher against the arm of the sofa.

“Would it have truly mattered if he would have killed me? I mean—I know my time is limited anyway. I just wonder if maybe.” I grew quiet, shaking my head. “Sorry. What a downer. Let’s not go there. Dinner’s in a few hours. Are you the least bit hungry? If we have time, I can try to make us something to eat. I’m not sure what we have, but I can put together a small grocery list if you’d like me to cook for you.”

Green eyes blinked through my words.

“You don’t have to do that, Margaret.”

“What if I want to?”

“You want to cook for me? You just got out of the hospital.”

I shrugged. “I’m not incapable. You can help me if you want.”

He smiled, his lips pursed together as he looked down, only to bring his focus back on me.

“I have to confess; I have no idea how to cook. I’ve never tried.”

“You don’t know how to cook?” I laughed, leaning over and taking his hand. “Oh, this is brilliant. We’re going to cook, and we’re going to have fun doing it. Do you like music?”

“We’re cooking with music?”

“We are.” I let go of his hand, easing to stand as I headed to the counter. “What would you like for dinner, my good Sir. Anything you desire.”

Sebastian let out a bellowing laugh. “I like Mexican food.”

“You don’t say.” My head tilted as I gave him a dazzling smile. “I grew up in the deep South. We are going to make a meal you’ll never forget. So, let me see.” I grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. “For this, we will make the tortillas. We’ll need some flour. Some?—”

“Wait.” Sebastian stood. “You’re going to make them from scratch?”

“Of course.” I wrote down the ingredients, glancing back up. “We can make carne guisada. Carne Asada. Hmm. Arroz con Pollo. Tacos, of course. Or, we can try our hand at homemade burritos.” My lips peeled back in a cringe to expose my teeth. “I’m not going to lie, mine always come out a bit greasy, but oh so crispy. I wouldn’t say they’re the best though.”

He laughed. “I love your honesty. Well, let’s play it safe and go with carne guisada.”

“With Spanish rice, beans, and tortillas?”

“That sounds like heaven.”

“Great.” I added them to the list. “We used to let our beans cook throughout the day, but we have a few hours. It should be okay if we put them on soon.”

“You grew up making food like this?”

I shrugged, swallowing through my past. “My stepfather expected it.”

“I see.”