She gave me a small smile, and a little air whooshed out of my lungs. She really was beautiful, if not the most outgoing. She intrigued me even from that first day. So much so, I bought myself an extra hour in the cooking lab for a chance to get to know her a little bit.
“Thank you so much.” She rushed over and happily dug out a mixing bowl for whatever she had set out to make. I’d never seen one of the students enjoy what they were doing so much. Her passion was intoxicating. A thought crossed my mind that maybe, when pushed enough, she could be passionate about other things, too—and use those full pink lips to show it.
Screw it. I was stuck here for an extra hour anyway. I’d give small talk another try. Sabrina and most of the other students already left so Sara and I were almost all alone.
“So, what are you making?”
Sara jumped, so engrossed in her task she didn’t even register my approach.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” I raised my hands and took a step back.
“No, it’s okay. I’m making cookies actually. I used to make them for my . . . back home, so I wanted to soothe my homesickness I guess.” She kneaded the dough with very capable hands, quick, nimble, beautiful. I had never been jealous of flour and water before.
“Where are you from? I’m guessing you transferred here from somewhere.”
“New York City. Queens. I did, but I took a little break after my last semester.”
“How long?” She stilled at the question before raising her head.
“Oh about, eight years or so.” She laughed at my widened eyes.
“Eight years?” I cleared my throat, doing a terrible job of covering my shock. “What made you come back after so long?”
She was silent for a few beats, rolling tiny balls of dough and carefully placing them onto a sheet.
“Long story.”
“So, you’re . . .” I fumbled, now caught way off guard.
“Thirty-two.” She quirked an eyebrow before shoving the trays in the oven.
“No.” My hand drifted down my face. “I mean . . . I’m glad you were able to come back.”Get it together, idiot.
She gave me that little smile again, and my chest swelled. I had the feeling smiles from Sara didn’t come easy. My gaze fell on her mouth again, hypnotized by the way she was chewing her bottom lip. Her nervous tic had me hot and bothered. Telling me her age was probably her way of making me back off, but it didn’t work. I wanted to know her. I wanted to see who she was beneath all the tentative toughness she pushed to the surface. What I really wanted was to see that smile again, and the cat and mouse staring game we were playing the other night gave me a twinge of hope that maybe I could figure out how.
“I have cousins in Queens. Astoria. The crazy Kostas family, maybe you’ve met them.”
“Can’t say that I have.” She glanced at the floor before lifting her eyes to mine. “I’m really sorry I kept you here.”
I waved my hand. “No bother at all. Although if you’re feeling badly about it, you could make it up to me . . .”
“Make it up to you?” She squinted and rested her elbows on the counter.
“Coffee. Just one cup tomorrow afternoon. I’ll go easy on you.”
She dropped her eyes to the floor and shook her head. “I can’t. It’s just not a good idea. I need to . . . focus while I’m here.”
“And . . . coffee is a distraction? I don’t follow.” I inched over to her station, close enough for her not to be able to ignore me.
“It could be. I’m sorry.” She studied my face with a silent plea, her chest heaving before her wary eyes locked with mine.
“Maybe another time, then.”
An unexpected laugh bubbled out of her chest.
“Finish your recipe and whenever you’re done, I’ll lock up.”
“Thanks, Drew,” she whispered with that sultry voice.
