Like a whirling dervish, Charlette appeared in the kitchen, quite eager to assist with anything that she felt needed assistance. The rustic bread was first on her to-do list, while she also made sure the oven was turned on. The sliced loaf was placed on a baking sheet. Those tasks now complete, she burrowed into the fridge. Paul had no idea what might be on her agenda at the moment.<br/><br/>Paul did, however, have a very clear idea as to how delish her ass looked in those yoga pants, and in that particular pose. As far as he could tell, she was also minus panties.<br/><br/>"Want some?" Charlette coyly asked.<br/><br/><i>~heavy sigh~ The wine, Old Man. She’s asking about the freaking wine! Not her luscious boot! We already know how you feel about <b><u>that</u></b> body part. Uh, knock-knock, Old Man. Pretty sure you had some cooking to do.</i><br/><br/>Her idea of some chilled vino sounded good to him. Paul withdrew another wine glass from the cupboard and poured himself some. While waiting for the pot of water to come to a full boil, he removed the pound-and-a-half or so of ground round from the fridge. He had committed to memory long ago, his mother’s recipe as to how to craft meatballs, necessary ingredients and everything. The only detail that he sometimes altered was the size of the round delectables.<br/><br/>Paul was glad to see Charlette enjoying the wine, and all too aware of him having to contact Jemma. Sooner or later, he’d have to pay the ferryman.