Page 33 of Wife By Accident

Leo followed Olivia into his kitchen, where it was clear that she’d been at work for a while before he’d arrived. She must have been taking a break in the living room. There was a casserole dish of what looked like gratin and a whole chicken marinating on the countertop. Where she’d gotten the chicken, Leo didn’t know. He didn’t think it had been in his fridge. Had she gone shopping?

A cutting board and a large bowl with the beginnings of a salad stood next to another bowl, which was covered with a kitchen cloth. Leo pulled back the cloth, intrigued, and found a mound of rising dough that smelled deliciously of yeast.

“I thought you said you weren’t a good chef,” he said. “This looks and smells amazing.”

“It’s not quite ready,” Olivia said, blushing. She took the bowl from him and set the cloth on the countertop. “In a little while, these will be garlic dinner rolls.”

“You should stay forever,” Leo blurted out, before he could think better of it. He immediately regretted what he’d said. What if Olivia thought that he only appreciated her for her cooking skills? Or what if she thought he was serious (he couldn’t have someone like her in his life forever)? But she just laughed.

“Let’s wait until you taste everything before you decide if you want to keep me around,” she replied.

“Fair enough, but based on how things look now, I’m pretty sold.” Leo surveyed the kitchen. “So, what can I do to help?”

“How do you feel about peeling and chopping carrots to roast?” Olivia asked.

“I feel like I can manage that.” Leo went to the cutting board, picked up a peeler and a carrot, and got to work. While he painstakingly processed the carrots, Olivia flitted around the kitchen, pinching dinner rolls out of the dough, putting the chicken in the oven, and chopping a variety of herbs.

“Was all this in my kitchen?” Leo asked as Olivia plucked leaves off a sprig of rosemary.

She gave him a funny look. “You don’t know what’s in your kitchen?”

“I have a private chef,” Leo told her. “She comes in twice a week and meal-preps a bunch of stuff for me so that I can eat healthy and quick food without having to cook.”

“That explains all the neat little containers of food,” Olivia said. “I was surprised that you’d done all that.”

“Because I didn’t,” Leo filled in. “Anyway, Pauline also does all the shopping, so whatever you found, she bought.”

“I hope I didn’t use up all her ingredients,” Olivia said, looking concerned.

“Not at all. I’ll just let her know,” Leo told her.

“So, you have a private chef,” Olivia said. “And an assistant. Are there any other helpers I should know about? Was the driver in the limo yours?”

“No, he just works with a rental company. I don’t usually travel by car in the city, when I can avoid it. Let’s see. There’s my chef, my assistant, my pilot, my housekeeper, my personal trainer, my accountant…” Leo trailed off. “To be honest, if there’s something other than my work at Palasa that I can delegate, I do it.”

“I can’t imagine living like that.” Olivia bit her lip.

“It is pretty luxurious.” Leo stole a glance to see if she seemed to be jealous of what he had, but her attention was focused on the rolls she was shaping expertly between her palms.

“I suppose,” she said absently. “But I like doing all those things for myself. Shopping, cooking, even cleaning… After working all day, it can be nice to do something a little mindless. Something that involves working with your hands. Granted, I often don’t have time for any of that stuff, but I don’t mind it when I do it.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Leo said.

“And when I was doing more photography, I often got ideas for my work while I was driving, washing dishes, or going for a walk or something. You know, when I was doing something that kept my hands busy but let my mind wander a little. I would think that kind of creative brain space would be important for a CEO, too.”

“You might be right.” Leo had always thought that by pouring every minute he had into his work, he was doing the best job he could. But maybe he needed life outside of work in order to do a good job in the office, too. “Then again, I think that if I tried to cook, I’d end up poisoning myself.”

Olivia laughed. “Cooking isn’t rocket science.”

“Where did you learn?”

“From my grandmother. She loved to cook and had a huge book of old family recipes passed down through the generations. My parents often worked on the weekends, so my sister and I would go over to my grandmother’s house. She’d read to us and cook with us and all that. She taught me a lot.”

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was. She passed away when I was ten.”

“I’m sorry to hear it.” Leo thought immediately of his brother, but he didn’t want to cheapen Olivia’s grief by adding his own.