I loved that he reminded me of that. I wasn’t anartiste, but I did create original work. And one day, maybe I could make that my entire identity, instead of wasting away steaming milk.
When he turned off the pedestrian mall onto a side street, I said, “So where are we going?”
“Actually, we’re here.”
Herewas a fairly nondescript building I’d never even noticed before. I went in as he held the door open for me, instantly overwhelmed by a mix of aromas and the sounds of voices and clattering.
Bas waved at a woman at the front desk as he ushered me through. “Hi, Fiona. Told you I’d be back.”
Then he led me through to an enormously busy restaurant kitchen. “What is this?”
“It’s a shared space. I’ve rented a side kitchen.” He wound through the open area, around stainless steel counters, and led me to a tiny room with food preparation already underway.
“Thanks for standing guard, Jess,” he said to a girl standing over a soup pot. “I can take over.”
“Smells fantastic,” she said. The beads adorning her long dreads swung as she turned and gave me a once-over. “You’re a lucky girl. Whenever Bas tests out recipes, we all hope to be his guinea pigs.”
Jess left us alone, and I moved around, taking in the places set on the stainless steel, complete with two wineglasses and the bottle of Riesling. Bas turned the gas on under a saucepan, and I just watched him, quietly going about his business, stirring asoup that began to emit the smells of coconut and spice. How had I landed a front row on his cooking show?
Could there be anything sexier than a man who could cook?
I settled onto the stool. “Please don’t tell me you’re coconuts for me.”
He burst out laughing, and I had to smile, too. It chiseled at the ice in my heart whenever he laughed like that. He was just too easy to like. So, so dangerous. He’d been too clever, creating this loophole. This wasn’t a date. Hell, it wasn’t even a restaurant. It was a no-man’s land, and he’d tricked me right into his trap.
He poured me a glass of Riesling, saying, “I’m gonna get jalapeño business in a minute.”
“Oh God,” I said, laughing until he carefully set down a bowl of soup before me. It smelled deliciously of curry and coconut. A plate of the promised Thai peanut noodles soon joined the table, and my God, I could taste the aroma. I suspected Bas could make tap water flavorful.
As he sat and picked up his spoon, he said, “So Evan is staying with me this week, or until he finds a place. He took a job over at the news station.”
“Don’t I know about it.” Elizabeth had been blowing up my phone all day after he showed up at her newsroom today. Bas looked at me quizzically. “Didn’t he tell you Elizabeth works there, too?”
“What?” He snorted. “Small world. I haven’t talked to him today. I was going to suggest we get the gang back together again. What do you think?”
It was so weird that three weeks ago, we didn’t know each other, and Bas was talking about a reunion. “I think it might be too soon.”
“Hmm.” He didn’t push it.
I took a bite of the noodles and changed the subject to our dinner, leaning into the pretense that I was a guinea pig. I didn’thave to lie at all. He was so good with food, it made me wonder why he was working in a grocery store kitchen. But I didn’t know him well enough to ask such a personal question. Still, it saddened me to think of his talent going to waste.
None of my business. If he was happy, that was all that mattered.
He cleared the plates, brought me a cup of coffee, and plated the salted-caramel banana pudding. When he set it before me, I thought I might drool. I’d grown up on banana pudding, and it was a comfort food. “My mom used to make this for me.”
“Yeah?” He tasted a bit. “What do you associate it with?”
I scooped some and licked my spoon, moaning as the sweet pudding coated my tongue. His eyes followed, like he’d rather be licking me. “It’s a good memory. It was a summertime treat. Makes me think of evenings out on the back deck, sticky hot, swatting at gnats.”
“That’s agoodmemory?”
“How did you spend your summers? I bet little Bas was a hottie.”
He flicked his eyes away, and I laughed at how fun it was to compliment him. He always looked so pleased. “I spent my summers doing a shit-ton of chores, washing cars, mowing lawns.”
“For money?”
“Sometimes, if I was lucky. Usually as punishment.”
