Page 29 of Banter & Blushes

My body, like a giant, panicking pancake, went down—straight into the corner of the counter.

The sound of myungraceful collisionwas something I will never forget. It was like a dramatic slapstick comedy mixed with the sad reality of someone who hadn’t been to the gym in about three years.

“Woah!” Luca yelled, rushing toward me, but by that point, I was already trying to untangle myself from the pile of rubber bottomed floor mats, my knee wedged in between two chairs.

“Wha—what just happened?” I gasped, still trying to get my bearings. “Did I... did I just ruin yourentire kitchen?”

Luca stood over me, trying—and failing—to hide the grin that was threatening to break out. “You, uh, didn’t exactly land gracefully, no,” he said, his voice shaking slightly as if he was trying to control his laughter.

“Great,” I muttered, my face bright red as I scrambled to stand. “I’ve officially become the person who trips over air. I’m aninspirationto women everywhere.”

“Honestly, I’m impressed by how much grace you can muster whilenothaving any,” he said, offering me his hand. “Here, let me help you up.”

I hesitated for a second. I had to make sure I wasn’t going to fall again the second I moved. “You know, I think I’ll just?—”

Before I could finish, I tried to stand, my knee betraying me and sending me crashing into him instead. My shoulder went straight into his chest, which...well, that wasn’t terrible. In fact, his chest was very solid. I mean,verysolid. Too solid, really. A little too solid for me to be making any kind of awkward, too-close-for-comfort move like that.

“Okay,” Luca said, his voice an odd mix of amusement and concern. “Maybe we need to stop with the kitchen tours before you destroy my entire restaurant.”

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry.” I quickly backed away from him, my face practically glowing red as I tried to smooth down my clothes as if I had a strange form of tourettes or ataxia in my limbs. “I wasn’t—uh, I didn’t mean to... fall into you. Like that. Or, you know, fall at all.”

Luca looked down at me, eyes twinkling with barely unrestrained mirth. “No worries. I’ve been elbowed in the face with worse. At least you’re not carrying a tray of flaming hot soup. Now that’s how you get arealdisaster.”

I blinked. “Wait, you’ve actually been elbowed in the face by aflaming hot soup?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, shaking his head. My gaze followed the way his hand went up and naturally fingered through his tousled hair. “Not my finest moment.”

“Luca, please tell me you’ve neverburnedanyone with soup,” I said, my hand instinctively going to my face, like maybe I was already preparing for an embarrassing burn scar that would somehow become my defining feature.

“No, no,” he laughed, “but Ididonce drop a whole tray of hot biscuits into a waiter’s lap during a rush. That’s the moment I realized I was never going to be a waiter. I’m achef, not aserver.”

I laughed, realizing that despite the fact that I’d just nearly killed myself in his kitchen, this was probably the least awkward conversation I’d had all day. “Well, thank goodness for that,” I said, brushing off my pants and trying to compose myself. “I’m pretty sure I’d be a terrible waitress. I can barely walk without causing an accident.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Luca said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “But that’s okay. I like that you keep things interesting. Most people just sit there, drink their coffee, and leave. You, on the other hand...” He let the sentence hang, clearly enjoying how much I was squirming.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure yourcustomersare thrilled to know that their meals are being served by the local disaster,” I said, crossing my arms, though I was secretly pleased he hadn’t run away screaming.

“Hey,” Luca said, his tone shifting slightly as he smiled. “You’re making my life a little more entertaining. That’s worth something, right?”

Before I could respond, I managed to knock over a stack of plates on the counter. They clattered to the floor, each one somehow managing to land in a way that made it sound like an orchestral disaster.

I froze, horrified.

Luca just stared at the pile of broken plates for a moment, then looked back at me, his grin never leaving his face.

“Well,” he said, completely deadpan, “I guess that’s one way to make astatement.”

I winced. “I should leave, shouldn’t I?”

“Nah,” he said, clearly enjoying this more than I was. “I think we’re good. You know, after you’ve officially broken the kitchen, we’re practically friends now.”

“Great,” I muttered. “Best friends, huh?”

“Yep,” Luca said. “It’s in the rulebook. Once you break my plates, you’rein.”

And that’s when I realized—I might’ve just gotten myself into a lot more trouble than I expected.

WHO NEEDS GRACE WHEN YOU HAVE CHARM?

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