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I drag in a breath, willing the nausea down. Not now. Not when I finally see it for what it is. “Let’s find you a space.”
“Naomi—”
“We’ll look at properties, run numbers, whatever you need.”
“Say I did this. Open the restaurant.” He places the fork back onto the plate. “What if I pour everything into it and fail? What if?—”
“Then we’ll order pizza.” I shrug. “Or Chinese. Or whatever the hell you want.”
“That simple, huh?”
“No. But neither is this whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing, and we’re doing it anyway.” I set the plate aside. “Brandon, you’ve spent so long living for everyone else. Your father, your siblings, hell, even me. When do you start living for yourself? What if people love it?”
“Maybe.”
“For what it’s worth? I liked drunk-mess Brandon. And corporate Brandon. And especially cooking Brandon.” This is too honest for me. Terrifying, but if it helps him see his worth. “I just like Brandon.”
“You were always nailing the girlfriend act.”
“It’s not an act anymore. It never has been.” I draw circles on the counter. “And you knew it.”
He just stares at me. Then, slowly a smile spreads across his seductive lips, showing off his dimples. “No acting, huh? So, you like the whole messy package?”
My stomach flips, not from anxiety, but something warmer, more electric. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.” He shifts closer, backing me against the counter. “You’ve been living in my head rent-free since college.”
“That explains the mess up there.”
His eyes drop to my lips. “You know what else I remember from college?”
“The vodka sauce?”
“That time you fell asleep in the library.” His voice drops lower. “Drooling on your Accounting textbook.”
“I did not drool.”
“You totally did.” He presses down on my bottom lip. “Right here. And I imagined something different on those pretty lips.”
The world narrows to that single, charged point where he’s touching me, and memories of college flood back, stolen glances across lecture halls, late-night study sessions that turned into cooking experiments, the way he’d always find excuses to feed me or be next to me.
“You used to watch me sleep?” I manage to say.
“I used to watch you do everything.” His other hand settles on my hip, anchoring me to the counter. “Even when you watched me during training. Still do.”
“Creepy much?”
“Says the girl who took the same classes as me.”
I did. “In your dreams.”
“You even signed up for the cooking class.”
Because there wasn’t anything else as calming and comforting as watching Brandon cook, it was perfect until I got kicked out. “We agreed never to speak of the Great Flambé Incident.”
“Pretty sure the fire department still has pictures.”
“Fine.” I lift my chin. “Maybe I wanted to see you.”