Page 15 of Ember

Of course, it would have been much harder to keep my hands to myself if we were alone.

I thought about it. Some piece of information people who worked with me would know wasn’t immediately obvious. “I’m a neat freak but in oddly specific ways.”

“Yeah, you are,” Joey said, shaking his head. He was bald with many tattoos, looked more like a biker than chef. “Like, the man organizes his eggs in a certain way.”

I blushed, but only a little. “It makes sense to rotate the fresh eggs from the older ones.”

“Like the eggs actually sit there long enough to get less fresh than a few hours.” Joey shook his head.

Ember looked pleased with this sort of information. She looked less guarded, and her beauty was more radiant. It stole my breath.

“I also rotate my wardrobe by day of the week. It’s all clean, but I have stripes or checks, and I switch them out.”

“That’s adorable. I bet you also want the dishwasher loaded a certain way.”

“Guilty, carina. It gets the plates cleaner.” I flipped our steaks.

“He takes every dish personally.” Joey leaned against the countertop. “Like, every chef make food for passion, right? But Al here acts like the Queen of England is going to eat off every plate he puts up.”

“Awwww.” Ember melted. “I love that you love what you’re doing.”

“Have to,” I said, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s long work otherwise.” Joey was helping me out, but also damn, the guy went straight for the jugular. I plated our food and sat with Ember at the chef’s table.

I asked her about work, and she told me about her clients. No names, of course, but she talked about the process.

She took a bite of food and groaned. “This is perfect. How do you always know what I want?”

I gave her my best winsome smile. “I aim to please, mi vida.” I’d watched my father woo my mother, even after years of marriage, and it was through worshiping the ground she walked on.

I could do that, especially for this omega.

“So have you considered signing up for Cosmic Bonds?” She smirked, like this was a test of some sort.

“Is your profile in there?” I looked hopeful. “Because I’m not out here dating just anyone.”

“My profile isn’t live,” she said. “I’m there to help clients, not date them.”

“Guess I’m glad I’m not a client then,” I said.

She smiled, her shoulders relaxing, and it felt like I’d passed. Maybe. I didn’t know why she was skittish, but that was okay. I could work with wary, especially when she smiled at me like that.

We finished our food, and then the kitchen got slammed again.

“I have to go, carina, my apologies.” I glanced at the tickets coming in.

“It’s fine.” She patted the to-go box I’d made for West. “I have to head down to San Francisco anyway, so I’ll deliver this.”

“Very kind.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets. It was that or pull her into a kiss, the audience be damned.

She lingered, looking between me and the door, like she was waiting for something.

“Will I see you again? Are you coming back?” I could ask for her number, but that felt too forward, almost too on the nose.

“I can. I could give you my number so you can ask direct questions about cravings and stuff.” Her cheeks grew red. “If you want. I mean, you don’t have to.”

“I’d love to,” I said, feeling like I’d successfully navigated the awkwardness of finally meeting the omega whose scent had me out of my mind.

I pulled out a Post-it note I’d written some meat temps on, and wrote my number. “That’s me, if you want to reach out.”

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