Page 23 of You Chive Me Crazy

I opened my mouth to answer and—

“Gourmet baked potatoes,” Lucas blurted out, surprising me again as he took another sip of his wine. “Potatoes that will blow your mind.” He made a grand gesture with his palms at the head, then blowing out wide like an explosion.

Was he being serious?

Where did that even come from?

How much wine had he drunk?

Not that long ago he was mocking my potatoes and now he was promoting them? He needed to slow down on the alcohol.

“Potatoes that will blow your mind! Sounds like a slogan.” Marty chuckled and snapped his fingers. “Hey, Lucas—can you give us a live review of her potatoes? Pretend this is a reality show, and you were just put on the spot.”

I was about to object when Lucas said, “Her ten tantalizing, tastebud-tempting toppings will trounce your typical taters and leave them for dead on the side of the road.” He leaned back in his chair, a satisfied look on his face.

I didn’t know what to say.

“I love it!” Marty clapped.

“Me, too,” Hank said.

Kay smiled. “Give us more.”

“That really isn’t necessary,” I said.

“You’ll be beguiled by the béchamel,” Lucas continued, completely ignoring me.

I craned my head in his direction, wondering what he was up to, and why he suddenly sounded like he was narrating a movie trailer forFifty Shades of Potatoes.

“Sexy sauces like chipotle, garlic butter, smoky sriracha buffalo, and so many more, all heavenly, and with a spunky seduction of the senses. But the base is what’s really in your face, something that will leave you screaming for more. Indulge in fetching fried jumbo shrimp, busty blackened chicken, or provocative portobello mushrooms. Every bite is a carnal pleasure that will leave you breathless, a monumental mouthgasm waiting to happen.”

The room was quiet for a full count of five.

Then Kay swallowed hard. “I’m sold.”

“Me, too,” chimed in everybody else at the table, except Damian.

I could only assume Lucas was drunk or up to something if he was going to talk nice about my potatoes. He had obviously looked me up online because I was sure I had shared little information with him, even in the lowliest state of my concussion. But why was he hard-selling my potatoes to everyone? Did he really believe in me, even though he had never tried my food before?

And then I remembered I was playing the part of his beloved wife.

Of course, he was supposed to sound supportive, like he cared. But we were not in the hospital anymore. Why was he doing all this?

For a moment there, I thought he meant it, but it was all probably just an act for his ex. I don’t know why the thought of that put me in a foul mood, but I was suddenly ready to go back to bed.

Savannah’s gaze popped back and forth between the two of us, then down to each of our left hands. “So, wait . . . Are you two an item or what? I mean, are you married or dating or something?”

When I hesitated, Lucas jumped in and said, “I thought it was pretty obvious. Zoe’s my little sweet potato.”

Damian’s scowl returned. “I don’t buy your little potato-seduction act one bit. You hate potatoes. You’ve said it many times in your reviews.”

“I used to hate mushrooms when I was a kid,” Lucas defended. “Now, I love them. People change.”

“If you say so . . .” Damian shook his head. “It sounds to me like the only reason you speak highly of her potatoes is because you have no other choice. Because if you didn’t, you’d be sleeping on the couch.” He sniggered and took another sip of his drink.

Lucas was right.

The man was a jerk, and a Grade A bully.