Page 53 of Show Off

His chuckle flows low and sexy over my skin. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I’m a gentleman. I’ll buy you a meal first.”

“You think I’m that easy?” I totally am.

He laughs again, his thumb trailing softly down my throat and over my collarbone. “Wear something easy to slip off in a car.”

* * *

“This was a mistake.”I whisper the words behind my menu, shielding my face from the server. “Something’s not right with this chowder.”

Dal surveys the dining room of Float and its cheerful décor. It’s Bend brewery chic, with rustic wood tables and tons of copper accents. Tourists pack booths in the outdoor courtyard as the scents of hops and yeast drift from the backroom brewery.

Everything looks normal. Everythingfeelsnormal.

“This chowder tastes like a wet dog smells.” Dal’s spoon clatters into the saucer. “I’m finding the owner.”

He starts to get up, but I catch his arm. “Wait, please.” The last thing we need is Dal storming through some other chef’s kitchen. We’re not filming, but still. Someone usually is.

Squeezing his arm, I smile to defuse things. “Maybe the chef isn’t even here.”

Odds are good he won’t be, which means we’ll be safe to share feedback in a tasteful, carefully worded email. Something less…confrontational.

Frowning, Dal flags down our waitress. As she skids to a stop at our table, he growls out a greeting. “I’d like to talk to the owner.”

The girl can’t be more than sixteen, and she shifts uncomfortably with her notepad in hand. “Is everything okay?”

“We have some questions,” I say quickly, resting a hand on Dal’s arm. “About ingredients in the chowder.”

“Allergies,” she says with a sigh of relief. “Of course. We’ve been getting some questions since Terce took over.”

“Terce?” Dal stares. “Is that a name or a medical symptom?”

“Terce Horseway.” She waits for our aha moment. Seeing none, she continues. “The celebrity chef?”

“Celebrity,” Dal growls at the same time I chirp, “Influencer.”

“That’s right.” The server smiles. “He racked up more than five million followers and made tons of money posting cooking videos.”

I’m dimly aware that Terce Horseway got famous for showing his followers such culinary gems as “Eight ways to cook ramen on your dorm room radiator.” That was followed by, “Five things to make in the microwave when you’re stoned.”

Glancing at Dal, I’m not sure he knows this. But I do know this needs to be handled delicately. The last thing we need is Dal getting cancelled by some twerp with a TikTok fandom.

“We don’t have allergies,” I tell our waitress, offering my perkiest smile. “Just some questions about changes in the chowder recipe.”

“It’s different, huh?” She says it like this is a good thing. “He likes shaking things up. Trying different techniques in the kitchen, you know?”

Dal looks incredulous. “Like running the clams through a sewer pipe?”

She laughs like he’s not on the brink of flipping the table. “Hang on, I’ll get him for you. He’s back in the kitchen.”

The instant she’s gone, I look at Dal. “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, let me handle this.”

“Fine.” He pushes aside his barely touched chowder. “You want to watch folks with hemochromatosis drop dead, knock yourself out.”

“Hemochro—” I don’t even know what he said.

“Hemochromatosis,” he repeats. “It’s a form of abnormal iron metabolism. Pretty common. Folks who have it and eat undercooked shellfish keel over quicker than a fainting goat.” One edge of his mouth twitches, though his scowl doesn’t waver. “And not like the goats in cute TikTok videos.”

It’s weirdly sexy that he knows this. Also, I get his concern.

---