She jumped up to fetch it, then leaned against the counter beside me. “What do you say when Edgar Allen Poe is about to run into a tree?”
“Oh, bonus. A University of Virginia drop-out joke.” I loved sharing that bit of infamy with a more esteemed failure. I dusted the crab in some panko and drizzled oil into the pan. “I give up.”
“Poetry.”
I thought about it for a second, then barked a laugh. “Solid pun.”
She grasped my upper arm, peering at the stove, her body brushing mine. “Are you going to pan-fry the crab?”
Those luscious curves had featured prominently in my fantasies. I’d let the food burn if I could just kiss her again.
“Do you want to do it?” I grabbed a saucepan and set the risotto on the back burner to reheat.
“No. I’m in awe of this magic.” She dropped my arm and turned to face me. “Have you always cooked?”
“Not really. I was banned from the kitchen as a kid, but I grew up surrounded by food.”
“Hmm. Must be nice. My mom was handy with a Domino’s menu.” She laughed, and I tried not to look horrified.
Food to me was synonymous with family, with love.
“My earliest memories are of my mom feeding the small army that is my family. I can make a mean moussaka, but my mom’s will always be my favorite version. Not that I’d ever be allowed near Ma’s stove.”
While the crabs sizzled, I quickly tossed some wild greens in a balsamic vinaigrette with Chelsea rubbernecking over my shoulder.
“Can you pull down some plates?” I pointed out their location.
She set the dinnerware on the counter, and once the crabs crisped nicely, I plated the food, decorating the rim with a lemongrass-ginger coulis.
When I set the dish before Chelsea, her jaw hung open. “Fuck me, Bas. Just watching that was incredible. Competency porn is my weakness.”
I tried to hide my stupid grin. “Noted.”
At last, we were sitting kitty-corner, sharing a meal together in the back kitchen where I normally only imagined the peoplewho’d be eating my food. All the stress of my day seeped away as I watched her makingohfaces I longed to see under me or over me again sometime, if she’d give me another chance.
But more than another hookup, I hoped she’d let me in again, let me know her better. I needed more than a warm body. I neededsomeemotional connection, fun, conversation. I couldn’t stop longing for a hit of that vulnerability she’d shown me at that bar.
She finished the last bite, running a finger along the remaining coulis. “Holy hell. I never knew food could be this good.”
I beamed with pride. This was the praise I longed for. “It was my pleasure. Thank you for letting me cook for you.” I’d nearly forgotten how wonderful it felt to have a part of me loved so openly. I wished I could get anyone to drool like that over me for more than food one day.
“Oh, and I get to check another thing off the list.” She slid open her phone with a cackle. “Elizabeth’s gonna get a kick out of this.”
It was a punch to the gut hearing her brag about using me for her game, that my company hadn’t been enough of an experience on its own.
“Is that all this was to you?” I burst out. I couldn’t help my scowl. “A checkmark?”
Chelsea flinched, arms pulling into her torso, like she was expecting a physical assault, and I heard the anger in my tone belatedly. It was like a splash of cold water to see her fold up like that, and because of me. She’d told me she’d grown up with an abuser, but seeing this normally tough, confident woman cower so quickly?Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me? I’d invitedherto eat with me.
“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I didn’t mean that.”
She hauled herself to her full height, lifting her purse onto her shoulder. “Then why did you say it?”
Why had I? I checked my own motivations and sagged as I confessed. “It hurt my feelings. But that’s on me and my wounded pride. You did nothing wrong. I’m sorry.”
She eyed me warily, like she was weighing the sincerity of my apology. “Well, don’t ever do that again.”
The possibility we might have an again came as a relief, so I said, “Sit. Stay.”
