Page 30 of The Exception

“Your lunch definitely looks more appealing,” she grumbled.

“Do you want some?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not taking your lunch.”

“I’ve got more than enough. I was running late this morning and, not wanting to endure your wrath, I just grabbed the entire container instead of separating it out.”

“I’ll be fine,” she began, but Trav stood up and grabbed her salad. “What are you doing?”

He dumped the salad into the trash and grabbed an empty styrofoam bowl and plastic fork from the cabinet before returning to his seat. Without a word, he emptied half of his meal into the bowl and slid it across the table to her with the fork.

“I told you I’m fine. I can just grab a protein bar or something,” she argued, but it didn’t even sound convincing to herself. The food in front of her looked so good that it made her tummy rumble. If she had the nerve to eat a protein bar after teasing herself with that, her body might full-on revolt.

“I already divided it up so you might as well eat it,” he reasoned. “Besides, you’ll need more than a protein bar to have the energy to bust my balls all afternoon.”

Ignoring the way he was watching her and grinning, she picked up the fork and stirred the food around in the bowl.

“What is it?” she asked, not that it mattered. The spicy scent of cumin, garlic, and roasted meat already had her mouth watering.

He tore his tortilla in half and handed it to her.

“Chipotle chicken with chorizo. It’s one of my favorites.”

She filled her fork with the shredded chicken, making sure to spear a few chunks of carrots, tomatoes, chorizo, and onions, and dragged it through the thick, red sauce. The first bite made her moan in appreciation and she closed her eyes and savored the flavors of the dish coming together on her tongue. It tasted like the spring break trip to Cozumel she’d taken with the girls in college. All she needed was a margarita to complete the perfection of that one bite.

When she opened her eyes, she found his trained on her with an intensity that she wasn’t expecting. He was probably waiting for her to say something about the food but he should know from her reaction that it was delicious.

Why was he so invested in her reaction? Having good taste in restaurants was nothing to write home about.

“This is really good,” she finally offered after swallowing the food in her mouth.

He blinked a few times before shifting in his seat and clearing his throat. “I told you so,” he mumbled, before digging back into his own plate.

“Where is it from?” Cat would absolutely love this dish and she was already planning their next girls night catered by whatever restaurant it came from.

His eyebrows were pinched when he looked up at her. “My kitchen?”

She rolled her eyes. Everything had been going so well so she should’ve known that he’d ruin it by being annoying. She was still euphoric over the food so she kept her sarcasm at bay.

“I mean, where did you order it from?”

Understanding dawned on him and he grinned.

“Oh. It’s not takeout. I made it,” he said, punctuating his outlandish statement with a wink, and the laugh was out of her before she could even think about containing it.

“That’s funny, but seriously. Where did you get it?”

“You don’t believe I can cook?” he fired back, still grinning at her between bites of chicken.

“I don’t believe you can cook like this.”

“Well, I can,” he argued, a hint of defensiveness in his tone. “Being in Afghanistan limited me from doing it for a while, but now that I’ve got my own kitchen, I cook all the time.”

Was he actually telling the truth about cooking the food that she was literally thinking about licking the bowl after she finished eating? She tried to read him for any sign of deceit, but found none. There was only amusement dancing in his baby blues.

She took a few more bites of her food before asking, “Really?”

He shrugged. “A man’s gotta eat and cooking is way cheaper than takeout.”

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