Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62480 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“Tell me about your day,” he says.
I think it over. “I spilled coffee on my keyboard for the hundredth time. Kind of amazed it hasn’t died on me yet, actually.”
“I salute your keyboard’s staying power.”
“Me too.” I smile. “And I came up with an amazing new bagel combo for lunch.”
“Tell me.”
“Avocado, ham, a fried egg, cream cheese, and a lemon-with-cracked-pepper-and-sea-salt spice mix.”
“That sounds really good.”
“It was some epic comfort food. What’s your favorite filling?”
“I am pretty traditional with the cream cheese, thin-sliced red onion, capers, and lots of salmon.”
“It’s traditional for a reason though, right?” I ask with a smile. “How was your day?”
“Someone used one of my knives. But it was okay.”
“You don’t like people using your knives?”
“No. I have been known to be weirdly possessive about them. It’s not exactly unheard of in the industry. They cost me a lot of money and I look after them well.”
“That makes sense. You’ve got to have the right tools.”
He just nods.
“Are you happy you didn’t freak out?”
“I really am. Feels like a positive step forward, you know?”
“That’s good,” I say. “So, your life in L.A. was tense?”
“Yeah. When you find yourself losing your shit five times a night, five nights a week, you know it’s time to make a change.” The breeze picks up, tousling his thick dark hair. Being here with him is nice. Sharing this with him. “Ever get the feeling that your life isn’t turning out how you wanted?”
“Yeah. I, um, I’m familiar with that feeling.”
“Success looked different when I was younger. I thought it equaled instant happiness. The high pressure, long hours, endless stress, but good money sort of situation. Working where I did made me a better chef. But it turned me into a miserable fucking human being,” he says with a dark laugh. “Which is my way of saying I like this a lot. Being here with you.”
“I like it too.”
No one has been this open and honest with me in forever. Not someone I just met. What must it be like to be so willing to take a chance on people getting to know the real you? To be brave and show them all of your faults and flaws?
He takes a deep breath and turns back to the water. “Tell me something else about you.”
“Um. Let me think…” I stare out at the water too and think calm thoughts. “I wanted to be a teacher when I was at college.”
“You like kids?”
“I did. Yeah. No idea if I would have been any good at it.”
“What happened?”
“My life changed…I guess I changed.”
“Teaching has to be a damn hard job.”
“Right?” I ask. “It must be so challenging with the current political climate and everything. The book banning and lack of funding and the rest of that bullshit. You would have to really want to be there. To really believe in what you’re doing.”
He nods in agreement.
“I envy people who have a calling. Who just know what they want to do. Is that how you felt about being a chef?”
“No.” He laughs. “I just kind of fell into it. A friend of the family owned a restaurant and was after an apprentice. So, I thought why not give it a go. But I was always interested in what was going on in the kitchen. My great-grandmother lived with us for a while when I was little, and she was always cooking. The woman just never stopped. Bread and soups and stews. She grew up in Poland and knew every recipe by heart. Never needed to look up a damn thing. I thought she was amazing.”
“That is amazing. I can barely remember how to put a grilled cheese together.”
He grins, and how dare he be so gorgeous. Seriously. Shame on the man. “You come here every night?”
“Not always.”
“What else do you do?”
We’re basically back to the what-do-I-do-for-fun question. I have given it some thought and have a response prepared. “Sometimes I lie in the backyard and stare at the stars. We have that in common. I have a fire pit and…I don’t know. I just like hanging out and reading.”
“That sounds good too. I haven’t looked at anything that wasn’t a cookbook in forever. What’s the last thing you read that you loved?”
“They were romances. I’ll Come Back for You by Charish Reid. It’s a spooky one. And Morgue to Love by Megan Montgomery. The heroine is a medical examiner.” Because even my reading tends toward the morbid. There’s a small chance I am obsessed with death.
“Interesting,” he says, taking a step closer for some reason. He stares down at me and holy shit. I think he’s going to kiss me. My stomach flip-flops in the weirdest way. The truth is, I want this so much it hurts. But then he leans in and asks in a low voice, “Do you really have a taser and pepper spray on you?”