Page 5

Her eyes widen and a little unsteady laugh bubbles from her. “Oh! Oh, I see. Fish of the day. Snapper at The Snapper. Well how can I say no to that?”

Well at least she’s going to eat it. Before she can change her mind again, I steer her out of the cupboard and into the hall, closing the door behind us. “You can’t. So take a seat and don’t worry about a thing. I will take care of you tonight. I promise whatever it is that happened will keep until after dinner anyway.”

She sighs. “You’re right. And I’m starving. Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to be difficult.”

I look down at her as she walks in front of me, noticing for the first time how much shorter she is. She seems taller on video. In person she’s delicate. Almost like she needs protecting. Which sure as fuck isn’t my job.

I snatch my hand away. “You’re not being difficult. Now take a seat. I’d better get back to the kitchen.”

I dart through the side door, leaving her to find her seat by herself. It’s unwise, but I need a minute to get my head together. I’m sure it’s just the fact that I haven’t held a woman like that in my arms since Charlotte. Not like that. Not for anything but sex.

I don’t do anything beyond sex.

Not cuddles or comfort or relationships.

Not me.

Once burned, twice shy, or so the saying goes. I might be thick, but I’m not that thick.

The kitchen goes really quiet the second I step back in.

I look down in horror, but the soft glow in the tips of my tentacles has vanished. Perhaps I only imagined it after all.

“What is it?” I snap.

Billy, my sous chef, clears his throat. “She’s back, chef.”

“Yeah. I know.”

There’s a pause. “And?”

“Well, we still making fish of the day?”

I growl. “Iam making fish of the day.Youare looking after the rest of the tables. Nothing has changed. Can you manage that, or do I need to get New Girl in here to run things?”

“No, chef. I mean yes, chef. I can manage.”

“Good.” I get another orange from the fridge and begin the sauce again. This meal is going to be the best fucking meal of her life as a matter of pride. Definitely not because I want the chance to make her smile.

Or maybe I do. This is the chance of a lifetime after all. That’s all this is. And if I spend the next twenty minutes thinking about the way she felt in my arms, that’s because I’m concentrating on getting this right and I’m just processing. Just trying to figure out how I hit that comfort food button that’ll get me a five-star review. Because even if she said she’s not posting, if I blow her away, there’s a chance—a tiny chance—she’ll do it anyway.

THREE

Olivia

I slide a little lower in my seat, self-conscious every time anyone looks my way. Is it my imagination or is my makeup running? Can everyone in the restaurant tell I’ve been hiding in a closet crying?

I’m sure all the staff know by now. I can’t believe the head chef caught me in his storage closet!

Maybe it’s not too late to sneak out quietly. Only now I’ll feel really guilty. He seemed so set on making that snapper for me.

At that moment, the door to the kitchen opens and Noah himself comes out holding an immaculate white plate. That only makes me blush more, remembering the fresh salty smell of him and the gentle way he held me as I cried.

He sets the dish down in front of me and I catch a whiff of citrus and fennel, an undertone of white wine reduction and fresh seafood. It’s beautifully plated. A bright orange splash across the white plate draws the eye. The pale fish sits on top of a bed of green stems. It’s a plant I don’t recognize, and of course that gets my attention.

“Oh, this looks amazing. What is it?”

“Pan seared snapper with fennel and orange reduction on a bed of aromatic native greens.” He straightens, and I know he’s waiting for me to taste it.