Page 28 of Banter & Blushes

“So,” Luca said, after a beat of chopping something that smelled ridiculously good, “you seem like a woman who knows what she wants. But, I gotta ask... what brings you to this sleepy little town? Business? Or are you just here to broaden your horizons... and your palate?”

I pushed some of my wild curls behind my ear.

“Oh, you know, just taking some time to reflect,” I said, like I was on some kind of self-discovery journey when, in reality, I was just trying not to go back to the part of my life where I meticulously scheduled every waking moment. “I’m... in between things. You know? Trying to... change things. Be more spontaneous.”

Luca smirked and didn’t look up from what he was doing. “Spontaneous? I don’t know if I’d trust you to be spontaneous if I let you loose in my kitchen. You’d probably bring a binder and a timeline, wouldn’t you?”

“Okay, first of all,rude. Second of all, I amnotthat bad,” I protested, though, honestly, if I were being real with myself, I could totally picture myself organizing the hell out of an impromptu trip to the grocery store.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Luca teased, glancing up just as I raised my eyebrows. “I think the thought of someone like you being all ‘spontaneous’ is a little like watching a squirrel try to do yoga. It’sadorable... but it’s also a bit out of your comfort zone.”

My face flamed for a second. Did he just call my quirkiness adorable?Get a hold of yourself, girl.

“Hey! I’mveryspontaneous when I want to be. I can totally do that,” I said, my voice pitching higher than I intended. “It’s just—well, I didn’t plan on meeting a 16-year-old chef who calls my ability to live life free-range ‘adorable.’”

I was discreetly prying for the truth, hoping he would give up his real age without me having to ask him bluntly.

He burst out laughing, throwing his head back like I’d just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you credit. You’ve got spunk. I like that.”

I didn’t like how muchthatcomment sent a small ripple of warmth across my chest. I mean, come on. Spunk? Really? That was some I’m-a-cute-little-puppy territory, and I was, in fact, agrown woman—one with a well-established career and an even better handle on her personal life... or, well,that’s what I told myself every time I looked at my planner.

“So,” I said, suddenly keen to shift the focus away from my flustered state, “how does one go from being a 16-year-old kitchen prodigy to... running a restaurant by the ocean? Was there some kind of ‘Eat Pray Love’ moment involved?”

“More like ‘Cook, Serve, Eat Piles of Carbs and Hope for the Best,’” he said, winking as he slid a perfectly cooked fish onto a plate like it was no big deal. “But in all seriousness, I just wanted to do something that made me feel alive. And food... food’s the one thing that makes sense to me. It’s like I’m able to connect with people without saying much.”

Oh, he was good. And the sparkle in his eye told me he knew exactly what I was trying to do and he was playing hard to get.

“Well, I thinkthatmight be the most emotionally profound thing I’ve heard all week,” I said, trying to make light of the unexpectedly deep sentiment. “Maybe I should take up cooking andfinallybe a person who gets why people put so much effort into making little dishes look like works of art.”

Luca smirked. “Or... you could stop overthinking things and just let your taste buds decide.”

“Ugh. Stop. You’re making it sound too easy.”

“Exactly,” he said with a grin. “Sometimes the best things in life are the ones we don’t overcomplicate.”

And that’s when I realized something.I hated him—but in the best way possible.

Luca was turning me into the kind of person who thought deep thoughts about salads.AndI was secretly enjoying it.

“I’m Rebecca, by the way,” I slipped in with a shy smile.

Okay. Maybe my idea of a vacation had just drastically changed.

THE GREAT CLUMSY DISASTER

REBECCA

I’d like to say I was starting toget it. You know, the whole "be spontaneous, live in the moment, let your food (and your emotions) guide you" thing. But if I’m being totally honest, I was still struggling. Every time I let go of control for even a second, something awkward would happen, and I’d immediately feel the need to grab my planner, take control, and pretend I wasn’t a human disaster waiting to happen.

Take today, for example. I hadzerointention of making things weird with Luca. Seriously. It was just food. It was just a café. It was just... okay, fine, maybe it was a little bit of aflirtationhappening under the surface. But in my defense, it was him who kept winking at me like I was a contestant on "The Bachelor" who just got sent home butstillmight have a chance.

Anyway, after my third plate of crab salad (don't judge me, it's not my fault the crab wasso fresh), Luca had invited me into the back kitchen to see the magic behind his culinary wizardry. I had pretended to be totally normal, not nervous in the slightest. Me, a person who can barely cook without setting off the smoke detector, trying to look cool in achef’s kitchen. Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?

“Alright,” Luca said as he led me to the kitchen, pushing open a door that immediately made me feel like I had entered some sacred, chef-only realm—a place well above my pay grade. “So, this is where the magic happens.Feel free to?—”

And then I did something I’ll regret for the rest of my life.

As Luca turned to show me a row of perfectly arranged spices, I stepped forward to peer at them... but my foot caught between a couple of the tiles. In a moment of pure,unsurpassedgrace, I stumbled forward, my arms flailing like a windmill in a storm, desperately trying to regain balance. But no. It was too late. Gravity had already claimed victory.

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