We’ll see about that.
I don’t believe Nico that he’s not interested in sex anymore. I felt our connection during our previous dates; I know how good the sex is. No man is capable of not wanting more of that.
I don’t know why he’s started fighting that part of our arrangement—especially since he’s still paying me—but I fully intend on making him reconsider. Not just because I’m made for sex and need it to make sense of my dates, but also becauseIwant it, too.
Just then, our food arrives at the table. Plain chicken wings, and…a giant pretzel?
I gape at Nico as he rips off a pretzel chunk and dips it in whatever yellow sauce came with it. He makes a sound of enjoyment and rips off another piece.
“Are you even allowed to eat that?” I ask bluntly. “Don’t you have to lose weight for fighting or something?”
He lets out a huff of laughter and reaches for a napkin to wipe his mouth. “Did you just fat shame me?”
My eyes widen. “What? No! I just thought— I mean, all the videos I watched said you have to make weight or something?—”
Chuckling, he pulls my chair closer to him and presses a kiss to my shoulder. The touch makes electricity spark over my skin. “Relax, Red, I’m teasing. Yes, fighting involves weight cuts.”
“Then why…” I stare at his plate. “Howare you eating carbs right now?”
“Two reasons,” he explains, tearing off another piece of the pretzel. “For one: I always time my rest days for the days I’m with you.”
I bite down on my bottom lip in an attempt to hide my giddy smile, but I don’t think it works.He plans his week around me?
“For another, you should always have carbs in your diet.”
The comment is so ridiculous that a snort bursts out of me.
Mortified, I slap my hand over my mouth. “Oh my gosh, forget that just happened.”
His lips curl into an adoring smile. “Not a chance. That was adorable.” But he sobers just as quickly. “But also, I have questions. You don’t eat carbs?”
I don’t answer, but he reads the truth on my face anyway.
“You work out,” he says, eyes traveling over my shoulders and down my body. “A lot, if your muscle tone is any indication. How could you keep your energy level up if not with carbs?”
I laugh without humor. “Sheer will and fear of my mother?”
Shoot. That wasn’t supposed to come out.
We both stare at each other, eyes wide.
“Scarlett…you can’tnoteat carbs. That’s unhealthy.” He hesitates, then adds, “The old-school ‘carbs are bad’ way of thinking has been debunked. It’s not true. Obviously, some carbs are better for you than others, but you needsomethingto fuel you properly.”
I quirk an eyebrow and try to deflect. “Are you seriously telling a woman what she should and shouldn’t be eating?”
He exhales a heavy breath and drops his head between his shoulders. “No, of course not,” he grumbles. “I’m sorry, it’s just the athlete in me. I’m pretty sure my nutritionist has burrowed his way into my psyche or something.”
I huff a laugh at that.He’s adorable.
He takes that as a sign to say more, I guess.
“Okay, let me just say one more thing, and then I’ll shut up,” he blurts out. I roll my eyes but don’t answer. “If you’re going to add any carbs to your diet—and I strongly recommend it, for everyone, not just you—do it in the morning. Whole grains, fruit, that type of thing. Do a parfait or oatmeal or something. Your body needs it. And then it can burn it for whatever workouts you’re doing.”
“Pretty sure the point of a workout is to burn fat, not food,” I say with a quirked eyebrow.
His eyes widen again. “Uh…whatfat? You have none.”
“Then I’m doing it right,” I say proudly. I point at the pretzel. “Because I don’t eat things like that.”
