Page 35 of Sincerely Not Yours

“Why does it have to be a dream?” His gaze locked on hers. “You’ve got the skills, Gigi. I’ve seen your marketing work. It’s top-notch. And your passion for cooking is clear. You could definitely make it happen.”

Gigi’s eyes softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against his again, sending a warm shiver down his spine. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely. I’d be your first customer,” Harris said sincerely. The desire to reach out and take her hand was overwhelming, but he pushed it down. Normally, he was confident and comfortable making the first move, but this was different. This was Gigi. Their relationship carried the weight of professional boundaries—he was her boss, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured into anything romantic. Not to mention, he didn’t want that for himself either. He wanted something true and real with her.

Harris’s heart bounded with Gigi near. He longed to bridge the distance between them, to kiss her, to be with her. But Harris needed Gigi to make the first move. He needed to be absolutely certain she wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to explore the possibility of a deeper, personal connection.

Uncertainty gnawed at him, making him feel vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in years. For once, he couldn’t take charge. He had to wait for her, and the waiting was torture.

Thankfully, the server arrived with their nachos, distracting Harris from his agony and giving him a moment to recoup his thoughts. She slid a massive platter onto the table. There wasa pool of creamy nacho cheese covering a mountain of tortilla chips, grilled chicken, black olives, and jalapenos. On the side, there were bowls of sour cream, salsa, and guacamole.

Harris leaned back, taking in the colossal size of the dish. A laugh escaped his lips. “Wow,” he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. “You weren’t kidding about the nachos being loaded.”

Gigi rubbed her hands together like she couldn’t wait to dig in.

“Enjoy,” the server said, setting down a stack of napkins that Harris was sure they’d need.

“Thank you,” Gigi replied, reaching for a chip. She lifted it, watching the cheese drip before sliding it into her mouth. “Oh my God,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering. “These are the best.”

Harris joined her and immediately understood her elation. “I’m definitely getting heartburn tonight, but I don’t even care.”

Gigi laughed, and they spread the sour cream, guacamole, and salsa over their mountain of nachos.

“These are incredible,” Harris said, savoring the indulgent flavors right along with the company.

They’d made a small dent in the nachos when Gigi’s phone lit up again, announcing the next trivia question would be live soon. She licked cheese off her thumb, tidied her mouth with a napkin, and picked up her phone.

Harris took a swig of water and leaned close to Gigi, watching the countdown on her phone. When the question appeared, they both groaned.

Who holds the record for the most career passing touchdowns in the NFL?

“You have a guess?” Gigi asked Harris. “I have no idea.”

Harris read through the multiple-choice answers, but before he could even guess, some guy in the bar shouted, “Tom Brady! Duh!”

Gigi’s head snapped up like someone had called her name. Her expression tightened, and Harris followed her gaze, spotting a guy near the bar. His voice was obnoxiously loud as he went on about how Tom Brady was the greatest of all time, that no one could ever beat his record. Someone at another table shushed him. Gigi’s excitement and warmth immediately disappeared, replaced by a look of rigid dread.

“Gigi, you okay?” he asked, protective instincts flaring up.

She swallowed, continuing to stare at the football guy. “Not really. That’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“Your ex?” She didn’t confirm right away, and Harris’s stomach dropped. Did she still have a thing for him?

“Yeah, that’s Keith,” she murmured, her voice tight, before shaking her head and breaking her stare. “He dumped me on Valentine’s Day. Took me to my favorite restaurant, knowing he was going to break my heart. Then he left me. Alone. With the bill. I haven’t been back to that restaurant since. And they have a to-die-for manicotti.”

“He did what?” A surge of hot anger hit Harris in the gut, not understanding how anyone could do that, but especially to Gigi. “What a jerk.” He had worse names in mind, but kept his mouth clean. “Do you want me to take care of him for you?”

His question caught Gigi’s attention. Her sweet chocolate eyes slid to his. “Like what? Take him out back and give him a knuckle sandwich?”

“I would, if you wanted me to.”

She smirked, but shook her head. “He’s not worth it.”

Harris glanced at Keith. He was sporting a popped collar like it was 1999 and he lived in a frat house. “I feel like he’s worth it.”

Just then, Keith turned from the bar, cocktail in hand, and his gaze landed on Gigi. Surprise washed over him before he turned to grab a young blonde woman. Draping his arm aroundthe woman’s shoulders, he pulled her with him. And they walked straight toward Gigi and Harris.

Gigi swore a few times before they got to the table.

---