Post by Matt Wilson on Nov 5, 2015 11:42:22 GMT -6
Matt took a step back as he studied the food he had on the stove. He wasn't going to claim he actually had mastered cooking or anything along those lines. Grilling, sure, but cooking? Definitely not a master. He was, however, good enough to produce a halfway decent steak dinner. He'd grilled the meat himself on the grill downstairs, making sure to pick the best cuts he could find. It had been almost tempting to completely cook downstairs, but he had wanted to at least fill the room with some sort of pleasant food odor before Tamara Sulik showed up. So he'd opted to make the sweet potatoes and salad and so forth in his actual apartment. He'd gotten everything together and was fairly certain he'd nailed it. He leaned over the baked sweet potatoes, sniffing. Yep, definitely nailed it.
"Now," he said, rubbing his hands together and backing up, "jus' gotta figure out which wine, which means headin' down' an'--" and then Matt heard the knock. Shrugging he headed for the door, opening it and grinning. He knew he at least looked good: black button down shirt and well pressed jeans. He'd made certain to wear his apron, and he'd taken that off.
"Hey there beautiful," he said, leaning forward to give her a kiss, "was jus' thinkin' 'bout what we're gonna drink. Food's over there," he turned and pointed toward the kitchen. "But first: how you doin'?" Matt grinned then, fighting the urge to just reach out and pull the woman into his room. It was one that he had to fight pretty continually, when it came down to it.