Page 46 of The Charade

She shrugged and picked up a potato chip from her plate, dipping it in ranch. "It just looks so boring."

Her plate had a hamburger, a helping of fruit and the Jell-O salad, potato chips with dip, and a few cucumber wedges.

"Do you like everything in your life to be exciting?" I arched an eyebrow.

"I just think that since we don't know how long we really have, we might as well make the most of every opportunity."

"Yes," I said, agreeing with her point. "But then, don't you think that eating foods that really nourish your body instead of simply bringing pleasure would count toward longevity?"

"It might help you live longer," she said. "But how boring would life be without a brownie or cheesecake every once in a while?"

"Touché," I said, unable to keep a smile from lifting my lips at her thought process.

I bet Ava had an argument for everything. She could probably have a great career in law if her dream of having a fashion empire didn't work out.

"Mack did warn me about how disciplined you were," Ava said conversationally. "I just didn't realize it went to your food choices, too."

"You talked to Mack about me?"

She shrugged and took a small bite of a cucumber. After swallowing, she said, "It was his excuse for why you were so rude the first day in the weight room. He said you like to stick to your routines."

"That's true." I picked up my fork and knife and cut into my chicken. "Is there anything wrong with sticking to a routine?"

"It's fine. I mean, it gives you a sense of control and helps you know what to expect, but I don't know. I guess it seems like it could also get boring." She cast a glance at my food. "Like your plate."

What she called boring, I called security. And after having so much instability for the first half of my life, I quite liked the safety my routines provided me—even if everyone gave me a hard time about it.

But instead of explaining, I pursed my lips and cut off a small piece of my chicken. "If you knew how good this chicken was, I don't think you'd say it was boring."

She arched an eyebrow, challenging me.

So I speared a piece on my fork and held it up for her. "Try it."

She narrowed her eyes, gauging whether I was serious about letting her eat some of my food, and then she opened her mouth.

I placed the forkful of chicken in her mouth and then waited.

She chewed slowly, savoring the taste of the meat, and then her eyes widened with surprise. "What kind of chicken is this? It's amazing."

"It's our chef's secret recipe." I smiled and cut another small piece for myself, plopping it into my mouth. "But it's good, right?"

"I'm seriously tempted to throw this plate away and get one that looks like yours now." As if to prove her point, she scooted her chair back, lifted her plate, and stood up. "Actually, I think that I'll—"

But before she could finish her sentence, I reached out and quickly snatched the plate from her hands. "You're not going to throw a whole plate of food away."

She froze in her spot, half-standing, half-sitting, and completely shocked at what I'd just done. After staring at me like I was crazy, she took her plate back from me and said, "No. I was going to grab a piece of that delicious chicken." She glanced around the terrace, an embarrassed expression filling her features. "But now I kind of just want to die."

Her gaze flicked around us, and that was when I realized our sudden movements had brought an audience to our meal.

And I looked like the guy who had issues with the food choices my date was making.

I pinched my eyes shut, wishing I could go back in time about fifteen seconds and smack myself.

But since time travel wasn't invented quite yet, I cleared my throat, feeling my cheeks burn as I met the curious eyes watching us. In a lowered voice, I mumbled, "Sorry. I, uh, what I should have done was offer to get that chicken for you."

Ava gave me a wary look. But she was better than me at being the center of everyone's attention. She managed to put on a smile that almost seemed real and said, "How gentlemanly of you, Carter." After handing me her plate, she spoke to the crowd still watching us, "Isn't my boyfriend the best?"

With her plate in my hand and everyone's eyes on me, I strode over to the buffet table and added the dumb piece of chicken to it.

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