Page 39 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole

CHAPTER 19

ELLIOT

Ihave never been a fan of chili.

“It wasinvented here,” Sophie insists, as we shuffle closer to the small takeout window. This place has no seating, no service — you just go to the window and ask for your cup of chili, like a high school cafeteria.

No, I take that back — at least a high school cafeteria has shade.

“I don’t understand why the hottest state in the nation would invent a hot food,” I mutter, shaking my head when we finally reach the front of the line.

Sophie is in front of me, but I can nearly hear her rolling her eyes at me.

As she orders, I watch her, how casually she talks to the man at the counter, how she leans against the little stand and smiles, practically flirting with the huge, big-bellied man scooping out the chili.

It shouldn’t bother me. It doesn’t matter.

Except that it does. And I shouldn’t be here at all right now. I shouldn’t have stormed into her office with that folder. I could have sent an email.

But I wanted to see her. I was aching to see her after a whole week of silence between us. That morning, without knowing what I was doing, I combed through the emails between my team and her, looking for some reason to confront her.

And now, my reward is a styrofoam bowl pushed into my hands, and Sophie’s directive that we move back over to her car.

When we slide inside, it’s like sitting in an oven. She starts the car, cranks the air conditioning, then pushes her seat back and peels the lid from her chili, letting tomato-scented steam escape into the air, fogging up the window beside her.

“Here,” she says, pushing it into my hand. It’s warm against my palm, and I stare at the red-brown liquid with barely-contained disdain. “Don’t look so constipated,” she laughs, ripping open a bag of crackers.

So maybe it’s not so contained, then.

I watch as she takes the chili back from me, dumping the crushed-up crackers into the bowl and stirring it around.

“Perfect,” she says, then passes the bowl to me. “Here you go, dibs on the first bite.”

“We’re going to… share this?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.

She quirks an eyebrow at me, “Nowyou’re worried about swapping spit?”

Sophie fucking Kendall.

I choke out a laugh, always surprised at her, and dig my spoon into the chili, just for anything else to do. I’m not in the business of comparing women, but I truly haven’t met anyone like her before.

After that morning, I thought we would go back to icy behavior, not talking. Avoiding one another. But she’s here with me, insisting I come along with her for food.

Like shewantsto be around me.

It doesn’t make any sense.

“Oh,” I say, after taking the first bite. Without meaning to, I close my eyes. With the air conditioner pumping over us now, chills race along my arms, and I see the value in the chili — hot, spicy, smoky, and sweet, all at once. There’s a dollop of sour cream and shreds of cheddar that balance the whole thing out, and the crackers sop up some of the acidic tomato juice. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Sophie asks, and when I open my eyes, I find her staring right at me, leaning over the center console. “Justokay, Elliot? Don’t lie to my face when I just got you the best chili of your life.”

“It’s… it’s good,” I manage, taking another bite.

“Don’t hog it.” Sophie reaches over, takes the bowl from my hands, and pulls it toward her, scooping up a healthy bite. Between bites, she says, “Chili like this — Texan chili — is a twist on chili con carne. It started in the plains, and since the cowboys didn’t have a lot of options for meat, they’d add in the beans for extra protein.”

“I didn’t realize you were a Texas historian.”

She grins, passes the bowl back to me. “I looked it up while we were in line.”