Page 10 of Show Off

Scraping the last bits of bok choy, I grunt. “Fuck off.”

“That’s more like it.” He finishes his meal, then grabs both our plates before I get to it first. “Did you see your girlfriend today or something?”

He zips off toward the kitchen before I can say I don’t have a girlfriend. I know who he means. “Not my girlfriend,” I mutter, following him into the kitchen to shove our silverware in the dishwasher. He adds the plates and we both wash our hands because it’s a motherfucking restaurant.

It’s almost showtime.

“I see how you look at her,” he says. The tenacious asshole isn’t letting up about Lana. “Would it kill you to ask her out?”

It might. “We’re not talking about this.”

“Give me one good reason you don’t date Lana Judson.” He keeps going before I give ten of them, starting with the clusterfuck of my last major relationship. “Have you even had a full conversation with her?”

That gives me pause. “Today.”

His eyes go wide, and I know I should have kept my mouth shut. “And you’re just now telling me?”

I shake my head and start chopping onions. We’ll need a fuck-ton for French onion soup. “It wasn’t a big deal.” Why did I start this? “She thought I was naked.”

“Hold up.” My brother scoots close to the counter. “This is a thing for you?”

“Iwasn’tnaked,” I point out. “Just shirtless.” He stares like I’ve got some explaining to do, and that’s probably true. “She thought I was having sex with someone.”

“Andwereyou?”

I don’t dignify that with a response. “I agreed to do some shitty publicity withEntertainment Weekly. That’s all. That’s as exciting as it got.” A lie, but not totally. He doesn’t need to know how my heart sped up at the sight of her. How I haven’t stopped wondering if she is, in fact, a very good girl.

“You’re smiling,” Ji-Hoon says. “And since that never happens, I can only guess there’s more to the story.” He waits, but I don’t respond. “Something between ‘I saw Lana’ and ‘Lana thinks tomatoes turn me on.’”

“Go check the door,” I mutter. “Some asshole early bird is probably out there already.”

His smug smile tells me this isn’t over. “I’ll get it out of you eventually.” He heads for the dining room—stopping to make one more tick mark on the chart. On his way through the door, he calls out, “The pork chop is great, by the way.”

“I know.”

The next few hours flow one into the next as I pile plates full of steak tartare and blistered shishito peppers. We’ve got two assistants and a kickass sous chef, but I’m running the show. Ji-Hoon keeps things hopping at the front of the house, while servers race from the kitchen carrying plates piled with mushroom risotto, seared ahi, and my famous Moroccan brussels sprouts with tahini and preserved lemon.

And pork chops. God bless Ji-Hoon, he’s selling the hell out of those pork chops.

He also manages to get the full story from me about today’s chat with Lana. The dickhead loves it, of course.

“Two more chops, bro.” He wheels through the kitchen with a shit-eating grin. “You’ll never guess who I just sat at twenty-six.”

“The Pope.”

I don’t need to look up to know he’s rolling his eyes. “Try again.”

I hate this game, but he won’t leave me alone unless I play. “Scarlett Johansson.”

“Prettier.”

My heart rate ticks up, but I keep both eyes fixed on this swordfish I’m plating. “You gonna tell me Lana’s order or make me guess that, too?”

“She hasn’t ordered an entrée yet. I think her date’s standing her up.” A grinning Ji-Hoon wheels around to my other side. “You should go comfort her.”

I give a low growl since that’s easier than words. Keeps me from saying anything to lend fuel to his harebrained idea I’ve got the hots for Lana Judson.

But my brother’s not letting up. “Come on. You’re due for your hourly meet-and-greet.”

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