“Don’t say that until you taste it.” I nodded toward him.
He grabbed a fork and knife from his desk drawer and cut off a piece of the French toast. He examined it up close and put it in his mouth. He then did the same with the eggs Benedict, dipping it into the container of hollandaise sauce before he ate it.
“I hate the thought that it’s probably cold?—”
He held up his finger, tapping the air with it once I went silent. And when he finished chewing, he said, “Damn, girl.”
I huffed. “What?”
“What?” He leaned back in his chair. “Your breakfast is better than mine.”
I felt my face instantly redden. “No way. That’s not even possible. There isn’t even any salt on the food. I can’t use it there—we’re not allowed. And I didn’t add as much cinnamon as I wanted because some of the residents are sensitive to it. And I would have snuck some butter in the water when I poached the egg, but?—”
“Alivia …”
I took a deep breath. “Yes?”
“It was perfect. Every bit of it.”
I walked over to the chair and slumped down in it. “I almost had a panic attack on the way over here, thinking you were going to try more of my cooking.” A thought then occurred to me. “You would be honest with me, wouldn’t you?”
He was chewing another bite of the French toast when he said, “Haven’t you heard me tear apart the employees in this kitchen?”
The multiple memories made me shiver. “Yes. But it’s me we’re talking about.”
“So?”
“Maybe you’d be a little softer?”
“Would you want that?”
I adamantly shook my head. “The only way I’m going to learn is if you tell me the truth.”
“I think we both know I can’t sugarcoat a goddamn thing. Whatever comes out of my mouth is brutal. You will hear the truth, I promise.” He dipped his finger into the hollandaise sauce and licked it off. “Did you use white pepper instead of black?”
“I used both, but heavier on the white.”
He smiled. “I’m going to steal that idea.” He checked his watch. “All right, we’ve got to get to it because I have a meeting with one of my suppliers and you need to start your side work before the dinner shift begins.” He moved the box a little to the left after taking another bite of the egg.
“Side note: I’ll never get tired of watching you eat my food. Like never ever.”
He laughed.
“I’ll also never get tired of hearing you laugh,” I added.
His grunt was a little moan-like. “You’re distracting me, Alivia.”
“You’re distracting me! You’re even a hot eater—and no one’s a hot eater.” I shook my head, moving those thoughts away. “Okay, back to it. What do you want to talk to me about?” I fanned my face.
He rubbed his hand over his beard, each swipe hiding hissmile. “Two reasons. The first, when is your next day off from the assisted living facility?”
“Saturday.”
“Saturday, as in four days from now?” His brows rose.
I nodded.
He typed something on the keyboard of his computer and said, “You’re scheduled to serve here Friday night.”
