Chapter Eight
“Don’t serve him!”
Mollyglanced back at me like I’d grown a second head. “Vera?”
Wyattstood at the window with an amused grin pulling up his too wide mouth. I’dnoticed him step out the side door ofLilouand hopedhe was just going for a smoke. Somehow, I knew better.
Iglared at him, irritated with the way he didn’t seem to care that he’d pissedme off. Was I a joke to everyone around here? “I have no idea why you’re here,Wyatt.”
Heraised his hands defensively. “Don’t be mad at me. This is one of those don’tshoot the messenger situations.”
Ileaned over the messy counter, littered with shredded lettuce and feta cheesefrom tonight’s spicy gyro slider and growled at him through the window. “Toolate. You’ve been blacklisted.”
Oneof his dark eyebrows lifted, the silver ring at the end glinting in my brightlights. “You can afford to blacklist people?”
“Oh,my God, you’re just like him.”
“Wrong,”he argued immediately. “He’s Killian Quinn. I’m just a poor, insignificant souschef. We could not be more different.”
Thehumbled awe in his tone when he murmured Killian Quinn’s name so reverentlymade me roll my eyes. “I don’t want to hear it, Wyatt. You’re going to have toeat out of your own kitchen.”
Aline had formed behind him. It wasn’t big, just a couple and another set ofclub goers behind them, but I didn’t want them to walk away because Wyattwanted to draw me a pie chart of all the ways Killian Quinn was superior to therest of us posers.
Wyatt’sgaze followed mine and he glanced over his shoulder at the people standingbehind him. When he turned around the arrogance was gone, replaced with puppydog eyes and an overly exaggerated pout. “But the lamb smells so good, V! Ihave a thing for gyros. It’s practically sexual.”
“AndI have a thing for not being told I’m doing everything wrong.”
Heclasped his hands together in front of him. “Please, Vera. I’m starving. Youwouldn’t deny a starving man a good meal, would you?”
Mollycovered her mouth with her hand, hiding her smile. But her hiccup of laughtergave her away regardless.
Unlikemy forgiving BFF, I held my poker face. “Go away, Wyatt.”
Ihalf expected him to drop to his knees and beg, but his next offer surprisedme. “I’ll trade you.”
“What?”
Asatisfied gleam lit his eyes, and he leaned into the window as if the peoplebehind him cared what he had to say. He was just tall enough that he could peerinside the truck, his large fingers curling around the metal window frame. “I’llbring you dessert.”
Curiositysparked inside me, but I needed more of a verbal contract. “From where?”
Hejerked his chin towardLilou. “From where do you think?”
“Whatis it?”
“Lemonand lavender cake bars or dark chocolate mousse with a salted popcorn crunch.”
Ipuffed my cheeks out, thinking about his offer. “I want both.”
“Idon’t know if I can—”
“Allor nothing, Wyatt. You did this to yourself.”
Wyattglanced helplessly at Molly. “She’s so mean to me. Is she this mean to you?”
Mollylaughed and shook her head. “I’ve never sold her secrets to the antichrist.”
Wyattglared at her but turned back to me, resigned. “Fine. Both. But if I get caughtI need you to testify in court that you held me at gunpoint.”
