Chapter 31

I didn't care what Harry thought or said. He might not care openly about having solved a major problem that any other person would've thrown a party to celebrate.

I was a normal person, and to me this was a huge deal, ergo I was doing something to make it a special day. Or rather a special evening.

It was after dinner, and I had sent Harry's staff off to bed so l could be alone in the kitchen to fulfill my plan. It wasn't going to be anything too elaborate, just a little something.

But if I had just done something worthy of a million dollars, then I would want some cake.

And so cake there would be.

I wasn't a master chef, but I knew my way around a kitchen since my mom hadn't been the most motherly type. I had had to make my own lunches for school and had to make my own dinner the days she was out doing God knew what when she was off her meds.

Sometimes, I even baked myself some comfort food, including my own birthday cakes when she accidentally forgot one year. Since then, I had started making my own cakes, just in case.

Standing in Harry's kitchen now, working up a very simple red velvet-vanilla frosting cake, I didn't think I would have any problems until I reached the part where my icing needed whipping.

I was used to hand-whipping, but despite this being an old house, it seemed everything was modern and up-to-date in the kitchen. That meant no hand-held whisk.

Only the electronic kind.

And this one was being a little bitch, just because it was my life.

"Come on, you," I snapped at it as I shucked the actual whisks into the little holes in the machine.

"Click. Just stay in! God, is it that hard?"

I was talking to a hand mixer. What exactly did I expect would happen?

Glancing over at my cake, which was cooling on the rack, I turned my eyes back to the whisk when it finally snapped into place.

Thank God.

"Finally."

Putting the whisks into cream and vanilla bean mixture, snapped the plug into the outlet - and then let out a yelp as the whisks started whisking, catching me off guard.

"Sonofabitch!" I screamed as cream went flying everywhere, and as quickly as I had plugged it in, just as quickly did I pull it out, letting the whisks grind to a halt as I breathed heavily in my spot.

There was cream on the walls, the counters, the floor, and yes, on yours truly.

"I think I've seen this porn before," I breathed to myself as I slowly set into motion, reaching for the dish towel laying on the kitchen island.

Thankfully most of the cream spray seemed to have been contained to one corner of the kitchen.

Wiping myself down first, then the floors and the counter, I was halfway through finishing cleaning up the walls when I suddenly heard a throat clearing itself behind me.

Oh, God.

Slowly turning around on my foot, I smiled sheepishly as Harry stood in the door, arms crossed and brow raised.

He glanced at me, then to the cream on the wall, then to the cake on the rack, and then back to me again. I could see the pieces clicking together in his head.

"Surprise?" I tried, chuckling dryly.

"Which part?" He questioned, now coming in as I awkwardly shifted and tried to hide the mess behind me.

"The cake or the cream or finding you alone in my kitchen?"

"Uhm... which one do you like the most?"

He leaned up against the kitchen island and glanced over my shoulder to the last cream I hadn't gotten rid of yet.

"This is the part where you explain, I believe."

I sighed heavily.

Then, moving aside and showing the bowl of cream and the whisking machine, I grabbed the cloth and started cleaning the rest up.

"Well, it was supposed to be a surprise. I wanted to make you a cake so we could properly celebrate you solving that equation. I was gonna bring it to your

office, maybe with a candle and a big fanfare. But you just had to spoil the surprise, didn't you."

His lips twitched a little when I threw the cloth away with a grumpy look.

Yes, I was a little annoyed about the fact that I'd just spent the better part of an hour making a whole cake and planning everything, only to be caught before I was done.

I think that was fair enough to be irritated about.

"And the cream?"

I grunted frustratedly and gestured towards the whisks.

"Your machine did me dirty. I'm used to hand whisking, but you don't own a fucking hand whisk!"

"That would be Jean's department. Speaking of which, where is my kitchen staff?" He asked as he glanced around the very empty kitchen.

"I gave them the evening off," I told, seeing him slowly raise his brow and cross his arms as I leaned back, crossing my arms as well, but with a smirk.

"I wanted to work alone."

Harry watched me closely for a moment.

Then, he shook his head and tsk'ed his lips.

"I think I do need to remind my staff who they're working for."

I chuckled, but then turned towards the whisking machine again, eyeing it warily before shortly saying,

"Either stand there or complain or come help me now that you're here anywhere. I've come this far; I'm not letting a hand mixer get in my way. If you could grab the strawberries from the fridge and slice them in halves, that would be great."

Despite my bossy tone, I saw from the corner of my eye as Harry slowly headed towards the fridge and pulled it open. I smirked pleased to myself as he then grabbed a chopping board and a sharp knife from one of the drawers.

"You know, I don't consider this as a celebratory cause," He commented.

"Shut up," I told him, just as I turned on the whisks with a little yelp, but thankfully didn't get splashed again now that the whisks were set to the right speed.

The machine started whirring and conversation became impossible while I whisked the cream into stiff peaks.

After a full five minutes, I then turned it off and tapped the whisks against the bowl.

"There," I smiled satisfied as I slid a finger against the inside of the bowl and tasted a bit of the whipped cream.

"Perfect. How's the strawberries coming along?"

I turned my eyes to find Harry having unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. He was chopping the strawberries with deft hands, slicing off the top and then once down the middle.

"Curious question," I said, when he didn't answer, but kept chopping the strawberries.

"You seem deft with a knife. If you know how to cook, how come you have a chef?"

His lips twitched a little, but then he slid the strawberries to one side on the chopping board.

"Work takes up too much time."

I shook my head.

If there was a prize for the biggest workaholic in the world, he would've won that as well.

"You really need to branch out a little. Don't you ever miss doing anything else but math?"

I had started transferring the whipped cream into a piping back, and while I did so, Harry finished chopping the strawberries and set them aside.

"Rarely," He replied, walking to the sink to wash his hands.

"Don't you have any other interests?" I asked interestedly, while tying off the end of the piping bag with a twist.

"I didn't know I was required to have more than one."

I sighed and gave him a curt glance when that sarcasm annoyed me. He merely smiled crookedly at me, leaning back against the counter while drying his hands.

"So you literally don't do anything else with your life other than solve math? What about hobbies? Or... things you like. Some guys likes cars, you know. Or football?"

"I like dynamical systems and differential equations."

I groaned heavily. This was impossible.

"Alright. Then how about this," I said, as I started to ice the cake, smearing the cream between the two layers and then around and on top.

"Favorite things. Food, color, flowers, seasons, those types of things."

"Do people actually sit around and decide on these things?"

"Yes, they do. Well, they have preferences. We all do."