Instead,he made a humming noise and then called for a server. The steak went out of thekitchen next to seared rabbit with pancetta and truffle tortellini. My stomachgrowled at the smell of some of the best food this city had to offer.
“Youcan take a break,” Wyatt murmured in a low rumble of a voice.
Iblinked at him again. “What?”
Hisgaze dropped briefly to my stomach before he turned back to an order of risottothat had been placed in front of him. “If you’re hungry. You can take a break.”
Wasthis a trick? “I don’t usually get hungry while I’m cooking. I don’t know why Iam tonight.”
Heturned to look at me again, hitting me full force with those dark, mysteriousbrown eyes. “Really? I find that I’m always hungry in this kitchen.”
Itwas a normal sentence. Totally normal. And yet there was a tone to it that mademy knees shake and my belly pool with heat.
Wasthat an innuendo?
Noway.
Notin the middle of dinner service…
Ifound myself staring at him, held prisoner by his hot chocolate gaze and themystery swimming in the depths there. My mouth was suddenly very dry, and Ilicked my lips desperately to find relief. His eyes dropped to follow themovement and my breath caught in my chest.
Whatwas wrong with him? This was craziness. He had officially lost his mind.
Andthe worst part was the confusion. We were in totally uncharted territory and Ihad no idea how to read him. Was there something going on with him? Between us?Or was I totally reading into stupid little things because I was completely overworkedand lonely and secretly, very, very secretly crushing on him?
Leaningcloser I caught his scent. He smelled like the kitchen. Fire and herbs andcitrus. But there was something beyond the food, something manlier… somethingso totally consumed with testosterone, my delicate lady parts nearly swooned.“We need to talk.”
Oneof his eyebrows lifted. “Now?”
Ishook my head, trying to get my thoughts straight. “No, obviously not now.”
Hesmiled slowly. “Later then.”
“Tonight.”
Hischin bobbed up and down. “Okay, tonight. Come find me.”
Iturned around and suppressed a scream. There was something about the way hedemanded very obvious things that made the hairs on the back of my neckbristle. Obviously, I would find him later and I would talk to him. Those weremy ideas. And somehow, he stole the credit because he said them in thatauthoritative way of his.
Okay,now I was getting irritated with stupid things. Which meant I was nervous. Whywas I nervous to talk to my boss? The guy I couldn’t stand?
Ishouldn’t be. This was dumb. I was dumb.
Argh!I blamed all of this on Wyatt. He was the problem. Actually, that was anunderstatement.
Hewas the sum total of my problems.
Ihad work to do, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of nabbing my phone out ofmy apron to quickly pull up the Episessed review. It took the next thirtyminutes to read it between dishes, but I managed to get to the end eventually.
Ilooked over at Charlie. “Son of a bitch.”
Hecackled. The asshole cackled. “It’s a good review for Lilou.”
Hisneutral statement made me want to punch him in the throat. “Yeah, if you’reWyatt Shaw.”
Heleaned closer, so no one would overhear us. “My favorite part was when theyasked him who he could rely on in the kitchen and he said his instincts.”
MySantokuknife was sitting where I sliced the filet. Iresisted, barely, the urge to grab it and throw it across the kitchen. “He’ssuch a dickhead.”
