I’m sure by the way we’re moving that we look like children, but I keep trying to grab the check. That is, until he sets me down on his lap. His right hand wraps around my wrists, and his mouth sits next to my ear.
Both of our breaths are heavy from all our roughhousing.
“Will you stop behaving like a fucking child and let me pay for the foodIordered for you?”
“Not if you let me go.”
He lets out a small, deep chuckle. “Such a stubborn little thing. I’d better not let you go then.”
I turn my face toward his, and our noses are just inches apart.
That was a bad move.
His smile falls as we stare at each other. His pupils dilate, and I’m sure mine mirror his. I squirm slightly and feel him harden beneath me. Heat pools in my core at the low groan he lets out in the back of this throat.
Dangerous…this is very, very dangerous.
Grayson’s eyes dip to my lips, causing me to lick them, and his hand tightens around my wrists, which makes me gasp slightly.
Something moves behind me, and he opens his mouth. “Thank you, Charles.”
That breaks me out of my haze. Facing forward, I see Charles smile and take the check.
What the hell was that?Whatever it was, I’m not staying to find out.
Grayson lets me go after I attempt to wiggle out of his hold, and I rush to grab my purse. The last thing I want, or need, is to mess this up. It was the alcohol mixed with us, reminiscing about a night I promised to forget.
I decide to ignore how his body responded to mine and vice versa, mentally tossing it into an imaginary trash can.
My hands shake as I fix my dress and braid.
“Emma, I’m sorry?—”
“Good night, Professor Hayes.” I turn toward the door,walking with confidence I don’t quite feel. My hands are clammy, and my mind is hazy, not only because of the wine but also because of the way he still affects me.
“Let me walk you to your dorm,” he says from behind me.
“I can handle myself,” I toss over my shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”
And for the second time this week, I leave with the last word.
Chapter Sixteen
EMMA
“You have twenty more minutes to have yourfricandó and crema catalana ready to taste.”
Grayson claps his hands as he walks around the room, observing everything his students are doing. What Grayson and Driscoll call his “labs” are really students applying the lessons from their lectures. Most of them, that is.
The lab is primarily for people who want to become cooks and offers them three extra credits, whereas the lecture is open to anyone and offers only two credits. The lab has a maximum of sixteen students, and so far, Leo is doing the best in terms of timing. He hasn’t looked at me once since the lab started, and I find myself impressed by his concentration.
I’ve taken notes and stayed in my rightful place, far away from the stoves and ovens, but I still keep a close eye on the process. It’s helpful that Professor Hayes explained the overall concept, even though every student was required to study the dishes at home.
It’s been exactly a week since Grayson and I ran into each other at Simone’s, and he has barely acknowledged my presence, except for asking me to sit away from the stations.
Since then, we’ve only exchanged one email where I askedhim some questions about his career, and he replied with well-thought-out answers that Amelia seemed to approve of during our first biweekly meeting. He talked about when he started cooking—although I already knew that—the nature of his first classes, his overall college experience, and that he decided to move to Europe soon after his parents passed away. The rest was monotonous, and he only mentioned his parents that one time. I used that tidbit of information to determine the year they passed away: when Grayson was twenty-one, the same year he moved to Europe.
There was nothing about his ex-wife or his siblings in his answers. It makes me wonder if he and his ex were high school sweethearts or if they met in Europe.
