davisadele:
“Alrighty then, but it ain’t ‘cause I’m tired of tryin’ but ‘cause you asked me pretty nicely to try an’ keep your head from exploding,” she laughed lightly, trying to contain but never really being able to do that when she was in a good mood, especially one brought on with cookies. “Thank you, that means a lot.. I uh, don’t but it ain’t ‘cause I have never wanted to do that.” It was mostly because she didn’t have the time or the money for such things, rather sticking to trying out recipes from her mother and then tweaking them as well as some of her own. “You’re gonna make me blush there, if you’re not careful. They ain’t that good but as long as people enjoy ‘em, that’s what matters, right? An’ you’re welcome to try another one, if you’d like. The more the merrier.”
“I’m grateful no matter you’re reasoning,” Naomi answered, wry half smile on her features, some of the tension leaving her frame. She understood Adele’s next words. Don’t . . . can’t . . . words that emphasized the helplessness that came with living. After all, the brunette’s own passion for cooking had been squelched with her prison sentence. “They are that good. I don’t give out food thumbs ups lightly. Once upon a time cooking was what I was going to do for a living. If they’d been a thing when I was little I could have been on one of those junior chef competition shows.”
