Fuck.
“So… so…”
Frustrated, I gave up and signedsorry.
His brows shot toward his forehead. “Did you just signsorryto me?”
I nodded, signingyesbecause sometimes it was easier to use my rudimentary sign language than to speak.
“Oh God. Do you know more sign language than I do?”
I laughed, signaling that my throat had finally relaxed. “May—maybe?”
Sev leaned back, crossing his arms over his well-formed chest. “Alright, then. Give it to me. Let’s see if I’ve retained anything at all.”
Rolling my eyes, I signed my response, fingerspelling where I needed,Best food. Best orgasm. If tomorrow you g-h-o-s-t, I sad. Very sad. But r-e-g-r-e-t nothing.
Sev’s faced scrunched up in concentration, adorable as hell for a guy wearing motorcycle boots.
“I got that you liked the meal. Which, duh,” he bragged, his grin entirely too smug. “I just don’t know the sign you did in front of your nose, though.”
I smiled, and then took a deep breath. “O—rgasm,” I said deliberately.
“Ah. Well. This is the sign for ghost,” he said, demonstrating it, “and I would never do that. Hell, after tonight I plan on being an entire problem for you.”
I laughed. “I just meant that I’d be sad if you gho—sted me…” I had to slow down my pace, but he didn’t seem to mind that it took me a moment. “But that if you di—d, I’d still remember tonight fondly.”
“Damn right you would.”
Sev had a flush on his cheeks and I tilted my head. “Are you blushing? I didn’t know badass chefs could blush.”
His hand, resting on the table, flipped up, and he shot me the bird.
“I’m just embarrassed you know sign language better than I do.”
“Mmhmm. Sure.”
Grabbing my hand, he pulled it toward his mouth, kissing each knuckle. “Seriously, though. I’m impressed. You have a decent handle on the vocabulary.”
I shrugged. “I was the youngest of seven, and my mom and dad didn’t have any patience for a kid who couldn’t spit things out, so they learned some basic signs.”
He shook his head. “That sounds both shitty and supportive.”
I worked my jaw from side to side. “That’s actually a pretty accurate description of my childhood. I got the things I needed, but I knew pretty early on that I was anoopskid, and that it was best if I remained unobtrusive. That was difficult, considering I was already six foot tall by the time I’d turned thirteen.”
He snarled and it warmed my heart.
“What about your parents?” I asked, pushing Sev’s foot with mine under the table.
“I was an absolute nightmare growing up, getting into fights, hanging around all the wrong people. But... they were patient with me. When I told them I was gay, they rolled with it. When I told them I wanted to be a chef, they didn’t try to tell me that there’s not a lot of money in it or that the hours suck. They just helped me find the best culinary school in Austin and made sure I got the scholarships I needed to pay for it.”
“Damn,” I whispered. “I wish I knew what that felt like. The only reason I was able to play rugby is because an uncle played it when he was young, and he took an interest.”
“You deserved it,” he said, his voice deepening. “When I contracted meningitis, my parents made sure I had the best doctors, the best occupational therapists, and the best options they could afford on their limited income. Even with the cochlear implant, they didn’t push. I could get it or not, and we’d figure it out. We quickly realized that we could only afford the one, but they found a grant to get me a more advanced processor.”
“Sounds like they really supported you.”
“They did.Do. Part of my frustration has been just the absolute fucking struggle with the technology because theysacrificed so much to get it for me. I’ve been terrified—straight up, terrified – that my doctor will need to go in and redo the surgery, which was awful the first time around.”
