Leanna-Chapter 231: [Deeply] [Hitchhike]

[Emery’s POV]

[Deeply]

After a short time, the room was filled with culinary students. They scattered across the area and formed with their group of friends. I felt left out because it seemed like I was the only one who came in alone. It was a good thing that Lance was next to me.

Some were surprised at the sight of me. I heard my name whispered in their mouths. Many wanted to converse, but with Lance barricading his arm around my chair and me giving off a ’do not disturb me’ kind of air –– no one dared come close nor strike a conversation with me.

Eventually, the seminar started, and Lance concentration never once left chef Brullini.

I smiled and did not bother him.

Just glancing at him from time to time.

"Alright, this seminar was supposed to be a lecture. But I decided I will be teaching you guys in the kitchen. A hand on lesson."

Cheers boomed, vibrating from all the excited cries of the students.

My fingers curled under the table when Lance smiled from ear to ear.

Of course, I planned it all.

Chef Brullini never teaches anyone. He only ever had one apprentice. Thus, this was a very rare opportunity. The students who came bargained more than what they paid for.

"Alright, everyone. Quite down." Chef Brullini gestured with his hands with a stoic face, and with a robotic tone, like he was reading from a script, said, "The person seated right beside you will be your partner. I’ll give you five minutes to discuss what you’ll cook. I’ll be the judge of it, and along the way, I’ll give you tips and ways to improve your cooking. So think carefully of what kind of dish you’ll plan to serve me as I am not a kind critic."

No one paid the chef another thought as all the students were stuck on the idea of their dish that would be judged by a renowned chef. He would even give them tips and pointers!

Of course, I also planned the pairing part. Just imagining Lance and I cook together –– like husband and wife!

Ehehehehehe.

I wiped away the drool dripping from my lips with my hanky.

"Em," Lance called, and I snapped out from my dreamland and found him looking at me with a serious face.

I hope he did not see my drool.

"Do you have any dish in mind that you wanted to make?"

"I-I . . ." My mind blanked out for a moment. "I’m here for business, so do not worry about me and chose whatever you love to make. I’ll just help you from the side."

My words have a lot of meaning behind it, but Lance did not give it much thought. His fingertips skimmed his jawline, thinking with a serious face.

"How about we cook Adobo with pineapples? It’s easy to make and delicious."

"Yes! Let us cook that!" I readily agreed. I knew it was Lance and Lawrence’s favorite dish.

"Alright! Everyone let’s move into the kitchen. Follow me." Chef Brullini guided us into the kitchen where all the ingredients and equipment were already set.

"Em, let’s go." Lance held my arm in a hurry, pulling me into the center front kitchen table.

I repressed my giggles while in my mind, I played my happy-happy dance.

I knew Lance just snatched my arm without thinking about it due to his excitement, and before I could savor the feeling of his hot palm against my skin, he released my hand. Then not wasting another second, he prepared the ingredients.

"Em, can you cut me some onions and shred some ginger?"

"Sure," I replied and did everything he told me to do.

Although I was not a pro in the kitchen, my grandfather, Luke Jansen, made sure that every one of us at least knew how to cook even the basics. Thus, cutting some ingredients was a piece of cake –– at least until I saw Lance with his lighting fast chopping skills.

I was embarrassed when Lance did all the cooking while I watched him from the side after chopping some fixings he requested me to do.

But still, I could not help but sigh at the sight of his serious, engrossed, somewhat flushed face. I crossed my fingers since the urge to wipe away that sheen of sweat on his lovely face was intense.

He was very serious at his job, but he seemed to be enjoying himself based on the small smile on his lips.

He seems so happy.

Eventually, I was converted into an audience as I watch him at the side. His actions were flawless, no wasted movement like he was dancing.

*sigh . . .

Watching and watching him ­–– I fell more deeply in love with him.

----

[Emery’s POV]

[Hitchhike]

Subsequently, the seminar ended, and after I pretended talking to chef Brullini, I zoomed into the basement to search for Lance –– only to find his car gone without a trace.

I knew his car.

A white Bugatti Chiron sports car.

I ran in the direction of the lobby and out of the building when the elevator dinged open, hoping in all hopes that I could spot his car –– only to be stopped by the violent gushing rain.

Rotten Milk!

Why is it raining?!

My eyes went crazy, and a little misty when not a trace of Lance’s car was seen.

I waited . . .

And waited . . .

And waited . . .

But no white Bugatti Chiron sports car came into view.

My hope fell right off my face as my shoulders dropped. I grabbed my phone and dialed Violet’s number, who was hiding in the nearby building’s parking lot.

I was hoping that Lance would take me home if he saw I did not bring my car with me.

I guess that plan is impossible now.

I was about to press the call button when that annoying voice startled me from behind.

"Hello, Miss Emery, need a ride?"

My face reverted to its stoic front as I met the gaze of Fred, who was all smiles.

"No," I replied and pressed Violet’s number.

"Come on. Don’t be shy. I’ll take you home safely. Promise!"

My frown deepened when he reached his hand to grab mine.

Beep!

We were startled when out of the blue, a white sports car stopped in front of us.

It was Lance’s car!

Without thinking, I zoomed to his car and went into the co-pilot seat. Fortunately, it was not locked.

Lance was stunned, to say the least. He sure did not expect me to climb inside his car without asking his permission first.

"Actually, I’m just going to ask you two to give way. You’re blocking the road," he said after he recovered from his shock, staring at me with his usual annoyed face.

My fingers curled on top of my legs, and my head dropped as I avoided his eyes.

When I did not answer, he sighed and continued, "Where’s your car, Em? Why hasn’t anyone fetch you yet?"

"I . . . uhmm . . . T-that . . ."

I stuttered, forgotten everything I practiced last night at the sound of his irritated, somewhat angry voice.

"Never mind."

Lance started the car and stirred the wheel to get us to the main road.

"Where should I drop you?"

"At your place," I said without thinking.

"What?!"

Lance snapped his head at me.

"I-I . . . I mean . . . M-my place . . . ?"

I bit my lips and fumbled my fingers. I did not know it became a habit when I was nervous.

"I know at your place, but which street? What address?" Lance asked, forehead creasing.

I told him my address before his eyebrows would knit together.

"Alright."

Was all he said before he completely ignored me as he shifted all his attention on the road.

I chewed on my lips while I held myself together, pretending to stare at the rainy scenery outside so he would not see the glistening tears in my eyes.

"Here."

He said after a long silence, handing me a tissue from his car compartment. I looked at him a little bewildered while his eyes never left the road.

"Wipe yourself. You’ll catch a cold."

Now that he mentioned it, I realized I was a little wet. Probably due to my rash actions of sprinting outside in the rain, hoping to catch him.

I also noticed that Lance turned on the heater of his car.

His small gestures of kindness and thoughtfulness filled my heart with warmth.

"T-thank you . . . ," I mumbled, and with trembling hands, I wiped myself dry with the tissue.

"W-what’re you doing! D-don’t strip here!"

I almost flew out of the window when Lance stepped on the break. It was a good thing I buckled my seatbelt. My eyes shot to him, and his face was so amazingly red as he shifted his head to his left –– avoiding me entirely.

"S-sorry . . ."

I stuttered with scorching cheeks when I noticed that I lowered the hem of my off-shouldered dress without thinking as I wiped my collarbone and upper chest, exposing half the slope of my breasts.