I didn’t flinch.
Was I trusting him too much? What if he lost his shit on me? Wouldn’t be the first time someone who fancied me couldn’t handle my level of disaster.
His tentacles wrapped around me and he plopped me back onto the counter.
He grabbed my chin with his tentacle and put his face inches from mine. “Stay here this time, okay?”
I nodded, but he was still waiting. “Yes, Chef!”
Spiro’s gaze narrowed, and he tickled my bare thighs with his suckers then wiggled his tentacles under my hoodie. Did I uncover what his favorite moniker was? Testing that theory would be fun.
“Good kitten.” His voice came out in a low growl, and boy didn’t that make me melt.
He snatched his tentacles from me and set them to work with the towel, water, and more wiping. Within moments, the floor was pristine, the bowl washed, and Spiro was preparing a new batch.
My hoodie was a mess, but the phone was working, even if the screen was sticky in the cracks. The caller was an unknown number, so I texted Cillian instead. My emotions were all over the place. The eclectic attraction I felt toward Spiro was sointense that I wanted to impress him, to be good to him. Instead, I kept making a fool of myself.
Me: My new friend might be getting tired of my clumsy ass.
Cillian: What did you do?
Me: I ruined a cake he’s making for me.
Cillian: He’s baking for you? Does he know you have allergies?
Me: Yes. It’s with special ingredients.
Cillian: That sounds like he likes you.
Me: Everyone has limits.
I pocketed the phone and wiggled in my seat. “When did you know you liked cooking?”
A small smile danced on Spiro’s lips. “Since I was very little. My older brothers played with musical instruments and art supplies, while I wanted to help my parents in the kitchen.”
“Do they both like cooking?”
“My mom is an excellent chef, and no one bakes like my dad. They’ve been running their restaurant together since they moved from Florida to Mom’s native Greece when I was little. So I grew up in the restaurant and around the constant rush of preparing the perfect meal for everyone.” Spiro mixed the batter with a spatula, holding it in a right upper tentacle and keeping the bowl steady with a left one.
“That sounds magical. What was your favorite part about that?”
“Seeing people happy. Knowing their day got better thanks to their visit to the restaurant. Some seasons were slimmer, and we struggled, but the warmth of the place never faded. Besides, we have a large extended family that would help us with anything when we needed.”
“That kind of support is special.” I had trouble imagining my relatives acting so selflessly. Everyone had their own path andtrod it without looking back. It was my turn, and I was failing at every step.
“It is. Now, the place is pretty well known locally, though I’d like to elevate that with a new menu. This retreat is me taking the time off work to focus on fresh twists on classic dishes.”
Spiro was so mesmerising to watch, but he was talkative when he worked too, and I could use that to learn more about him. “You mentioned older brothers. Are you the youngest?”
“Yup.” Spiro pulled up the cuff silver bracelet on his wrist that had a single red gemstone in it, and continued mixing the fresh batter in the bowl.
“Me too. How did that work out for you?”
“I feel like I’m stuck in place. My brothers have interesting lives away from home, and have devoted partners. While I just wanna cook. I love to feed people, make them enjoy the food, and have a good time. I was convinced I’d be content being a chef at my parents’ restaurant, but after seeing how happy my brothers are, I’m having doubts. But in the end, those pass, and I belong in that taverna, fulfilling my childhood dreams.” Spiro poured the batter into two round tins and slid them into the oven. “These will need thirty minutes.” He set the timer on and cleaned the counter. “How about you? Being the youngest can both spoil us and fuck us up.”
“That’s true.” I settled my tail around my waist and plucked the fur there. “I’m a disappointment to my family.”
“Why?” Spiro paused with a spoonful of sugar in the air above a bowl with butter in it.
