“In case I haven’t said it in a while, I’m proud of your progress. And of you.”
“Don’t make me cry,” she said and they hugged quickly before Clementine left.
In a slight daze, she worked through a wedding tasting. She tried to pay attention, but after her therapy session, it was mostly hopeless. However, the couple enjoyed it so much they made their choice before leaving. Which meant that she had a few tasters left over that she packed up and took with her to see Oakley.
It wasn’t the first time, but she would never tire of cake as a sort of foreplay. Between tasting and kissing, it didn’t surprise her that there were quite a few slices left over. Once they were able to separate from each other—which was really difficult, because she didn’t want to let him go either—she gave Oakley the address to their dinner spot.
“If it weren’t for you, I’d never find half these places,” he said once they were parked.
It’s No Truffles was an Americanized French bistro, owned by a friend and one of her favorite restaurants. When she promised to be Oakley’s food guide, she had considered making a list, but decided to wing it. Often, the best food discoveries happened when you didn’t plan. They stepped into the restaurant and a tall man walked over with a wide smile. She recognized him, but couldn’t recall his name as he came over.
“Chef Kinney, long time no see,” he said with a wide grin and gestured to the side. “The usual table?”
“Yes, please. Is Henri in?”
“He was here earlier, should be back later.”
She followed him to the table tucked into the corner. When she first visited the restaurant and befriended Henri, he’d given her that table. Even now, it was only table she’d sat at, because it allowed her to eat her food in silence and work or read without being disturbed.
Once they were seated, Oakley leaned in and whispered, “Chef Kinney.”
She rolled her eyes. “I keep telling them to call me Clementine, but they refuse.”
“And who is Henri?”
“Owner of this establishment. Jealous?”
“Fuck yes,” he growled and then cleared his throat, smoothing his hands over the table. “Making sure I don’t have any competition.”
She leaned back with a faint smile. “I barely have time to be with you, you think I have time for someone else?”
“Maybe you’re not getting enough from me.”
“Be serious.”
“I am,” he replied, strong arms crossed over his chest. “Who knows what you’re into.”
She knew he was messing with her, but it still irked her that he thought she was interested in anyone else. That was the one rule she’d listed that she had no plan of breaking. Besides, her brain didn’t have room for anyone other than Oakley, and they both knew it. Her conversation with Rhiannon swirled through her mind—her fear of letting go, the feelings she was afraid to acknowledge. This wasn’t meant to be anything more than sex and he certainly wasn’t supposed to be charming or win her over with his good looks and sunshine personality.
“I’m not on the menu, in case that wasn’t clear yet.” Oakley’s amused voice broke through her thoughts.
Sighing, she looked away. “You’re exhausting.”
“You love it.”
When the waiter returned, Oakley ordered a jambon beurre and a French onion soup; she asked for her usual of Steak Frites. She took a sip of water and found him watching her curiously.
“Something’s on your mind,” he said softly, eyes pleading. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Pursing her lips, she set her glass down. How could she explain her crushes and not sound ridiculous? Blowing out a frustrated breath she just started talking.
“When I was a teenager, I had a tendency to crush on everyone I met. And I meaneveryone. You flashed a smile at me and I was putty in your hands. It wasn’t cute, but it’s what my life had been. My friends at the time thought it would be fun to encourage me to do something about those feelings and crushes. They convinced me that love letters and poems would get the attention of those I liked. And because I was young and easily manipulated, I believed it was a good idea.
“But as you can imagine, the objects of my affection didn’t feel the same way. They would laugh at the stuff I wrote, share it with their friends and spread it around school. Thankfully nobody knew whoIwas, so I could avoid the ridicule. Buteveryone in school was talking about it and it started to get out of hand.”
She looked up from where she was folding and unfolding her napkin to find him frowning, eyes thunderous. “Mack always tried to stop me from doing this shit. But I thought he was being a silly boy and my girlfriends wouldn’t lead me astray, right? Wrong. They were getting off on my misery and instead of helping me genuinely get the attention of the right people, they were enjoying the chaos.”
“Give me their names, I’ll take them out.”