Page 10 of A Very Grumpy Chef

Coco is wearing a dark red dress that ties at her waist, the V neckline showing a tempting hint of cleavage that has my cock standing at attention. Her blonde hair shines in the sunlight as she smiles up at me shyly, her green eyes scanning me from head to toe. As she steps closer, I catch a whiff of her sweet strawberry scent.

“You look nice,” she says.

I nod, trying to find words, but my tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of my mouth.

Get it together!

“You look stunning, Coco,” I rasp, my eyes straying over her curves.

“Thanks. I wasn’t sure where we were going for our date. Am I overdressed?”

“No, you look perfect.”

She blushes and ducks inside her apartment to grab her purse and keys.

I want to reach for her hand as we head down the stairs, but I’m worried she’ll swat it away.

“I’m over here,” I tell her, pointing at my car.

I open the door for her, and she slips into the passenger seat. Closing it, I jog around the hood and climb into the driver’s seat.

Coco glances across at me. “Where are we going?”

“I moved to town and bought Palmer’s Steakhouse,” I say. “I’m going to revamp it a bit, and I thought we’d go there today. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I’ve never been there.”

“Really?”

“No, it’s kind of pricey, and I was raised by a single mom. We were always scraping by, so we didn’t eat out.”

“Well, I’m glad to experience it for the first time with you.”

She smiles and turns to face me a little in her seat. “What about you? Your parents must be proud of your success.”

“You looked me up?”

She shrugs, averting her gaze out the passenger window. “Maybe. I wanted to make sure my cooking teacher was qualified to teach me.”

“And?”

“He is.” She looks impressed.

“Thanks.”

“Have your parents dined at every restaurant you’ve worked in?”

I shift in my seat. “Um, I never met my parents. I was given up for adoption at birth, but I was never adopted. I grew up in a couple of foster homes, and I doubt that any of them even remember me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Alec. I didn’t read that in my search,” she says softly.

I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ve moved past all of that.”

We park in the parking lot of Palmer’s, and I hurry to open her door.

“You don’t want to use the front door?” Coco asks as I lead her around the back.

I laugh. “Sorry. I’m used to going in the back.”