Page 4 of Good Taste
He steps to the side and I see he’s been chopping onions. “I’m a fucking weakling when it comes to this.” He wipes another tear away and heads toward the sink. “Cry like a baby every time.”
“I can do it.” I take another step toward him. “That gene sort of passed me by.”
“A tough girl, huh?” He washes and dries his hands, peering at me over his shoulder.
Now I smile. I can’t help it. “Nah. A tough woman.”
His shoulders shake when he huffs out a laugh. I gesture toward the apron on the wall hook. Nick nods in approval. My fingers shake as I reach behind and tie the knot. “I’ve got people coming in about an hour. So, you won’t be stuck with me for long.”
“Good.” I tease, playfully rolling my eyes. But that’s not how I feel. As much as I hate to admit it, I want to be alone with him.
Chapter Four
Nick
Havingher in the kitchen with me is surprisingly calming. I didn’t expect this. Maybe it’s the fact that I can’t keep my eyes off her insanely sexy figure. I’m convinced that no matter what this woman wears, she looks like a goddamn sex goddess. I can only imagine what she looks like out of her clothes.
“Are these small enough?”
“Hm?” She turns her head and I avert my gaze in the knick of time. It takes a second to realize what she’s asking. Embarrassed, I lean closer to her, examining her work. “Looks good.” I mean that in more ways than one.
Even chopping onions I can smell the lavender and mint shampoo she uses. It instantly turns me on. I’m nearly lost in it when I realize what’s happening.
I take a big step backward and turn away. What the hell am I thinking? I have hundreds of thousands of dollars resting on this investment, not to mention the risk associated with losing the only dream I’ve ever had.
She turns away from the onions, shoots me a big smile. “Look.” She widens her bright green eyes in my direction. For the first time I notice the slightest hints of gold lining her irises. “Not a tear to be shed.” She performs a quick curtsey and I workhard not to smile. Cute as a button and sexy to boot—plus she excels in the one task I absolutely loathe. This may be the perfect woman.
Not for you, Nick. Stick to what you know. Food.
I give her a thumbs up and march into the walk-in. The cold air feels good. I swipe at my damp forehead, suddenly aware of how hot my body temperature had grown. It seems like she’s into me. I’ve had my fair share of women who weredefinitelyinto me. I always thought I was into them, too. But now, seeing Taylor and what she does to me, I know that those who’ve come before were nothing compared to this. I’m like a walking hard-on whenever she’s around.
I want to please her. Not only with sex but with food. I want to nourish her in every way possible. I just have to get through this opening first, put my feelings aside and keep my chef’s hat firmly in place.
The door to the walk-in flies open, pulling me from my thoughts. Taylor takes a step inside, her nipples stiffening instantly in the cold. I pry my gaze away and notice the pinched expression on her face, and her towel wrapped finger.
“Where’s the first aid kit?” She winces. “I cut my finger.”
“Oh shit.” I move toward her. “Let me see.”
“It’s not too bad,” she says. I take her hand and bring it closer to my face to examine the wound.
“Looks like it’s not too deep.” I wrap the towel back around her finger. “But it’s a bleeder, alright.”
“Yeah.” Her face goes white.
“Do you need to sit down?”
“Maybe.” She inhales deeply. “For as good as I am with onions, I’m equally as horrible with the sight of blood.”
I hold the cooler door open for her, prepared to brace her fall if she goes down. My hand reaches for the small of her back, butI pull away before I make contact. “Sit here.” I pull up a chair for her. “If you feel faint, put your head between your legs.”
“Okay.” She says. “I don’t think it’ll come to that but with the way this day’s going…”
I rush over to the kit on the wall and grab the rubbing alcohol, two bandaids, and a finger condom. Taylor licks her full lips before twisting them to the side. “I’m sorry. I know how stressed we are for time.”
We.I heard it. “It’s my fault. I should’ve warned you that the knives are super sharp.”
“It’s a kitchen. I should’ve known.” She rolls her eyes and pushes her ponytail back over her shoulder. Again, that shampoo scent fills the space between us. I’ve never been so turned on applying a band-aid in my life. What the hell is wrong with me?
