His eyes closed.
His brow creased.
He chewed a few times . . .
And moaned.
It wasn’t a quiet “hmm, this is good” groan. Oh, no, this was a full, genuine, sensual sound that made my brain short-circuit and my face burst into flames.
“Oh my God,” Chase said around the bite. “Oh, my God.”
“Is it . . . are you dying? Should I take it back?”
“This is . . .incredible,” Chase continued, oblivious to the fact that he’d just made a sound that should be illegal in public. He took another bite. “What’s in this? Is that—” Another bite. Another sound that made my stomach do flips. “Is that plantaininthe burger?”
“Yeah,” I managed, my voice coming out strangled. “Rod said it adds sweetness and texture.”
“Rod is a genius.”
I blew out a breath and smiled. “I’ll tell him you said that.”
“Please do. Tell him I would do very naughty things for this burger.”
I suddenly knew what menopausal women meant by a ‘hot flash.’
“That seems extreme.”
“I’m serious.” Chase opened his eyes and looked at me, and I forgot how to think. “I haven’t eaten since lunch—maybe since breakfast, I can’t remember—and this is the best thing I’ve had in a long time.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
We stared at each other.
I should leave. I should definitely leave.
Why was I was lingering?
Oh God, I’m still lingering.
Professional bartenders did not linger at customer tables while they ate.
But I couldn’t make my feet move.
“Um, thanks. This is great.” Chase cleared his throat and gestured at his papers. “I need to get back to these. Big meeting tomorrow morning.”
“Right. Yes. Of course.” I took a step back, nearly tripped over my own feet, caught myself. “Enjoy your burger. You’re a great guinea pig . . . I meanfood pig experiment guy. I’ll just—I’m going to go now.”
I turned and fast-walked back to the bar, my face still burning, my heart doing something complicated in my chest.
Jacks was back, leaning against the bar beside Mark. Everyone was staring.
“So?” Priya said.
“He loved the burger,” I reported, sliding behind the bar and grabbing a glass to polish because I needed something to do with my hands. “Definite burger success.”
“And the flirting?” Mark asked.
“Flirt failure.”
