"And stand you up? I am not that kind of boy." Bobby put his hands on his hips and made a girlish bitchface at her, as he had seen Sunny do to Stas on multiple occasions. He had a beat up book tucked under his arm. "I was looking for this," he said, proudly presenting it to her. "My first cookbook; it's got all the easy ones in it."

He hadn't believed Sam when he'd told him that his sister was a terrible cook. But five minutes in the kitchen with her before the new year's party and he saw exactly how bad she was. Too much salt and not enough sugar, one ruined batch of shortbread later and he had made her promise to let him teach her something. At least the difference between a teaspoon and a tablespoon.

"What do you want to make?"