Page 42 of Fast & Reckless
The chef went to work, dumping noodles into two bowls, then vegetables and a handful of greens, before ladling steaming broth over everything. With a pair of tongs, he scooped various things out of an assortment of bins spread in front of him—a fat white fish fillet, a cluster of prawns, some octopus.
At his side, Mira sucked in a breath and grabbed at his arm. “None of that.”
“None of what?”
She closed her eyes and shuddered. “That. With the suckers.Nope.”
“The octopus? Are you allergic?”
“Phobic,” she spit out through clenched teeth.
“You have a phobia of octopuses? Octopi? Whatever?”
Her eyes were still squeezed shut. “Tentacles.”
“You have a phobia oftentacles?” He started to laugh, but when he saw the look on her face, he stifled it. He looked back to the chef and shrugged. “No octopus?”
The chef sighed deeply and shook his head. “Your loss.”
It was crowded, but they wound their way through the forest of small tables nearby to an empty one. Will began poking through the assortment of condiments on the table.
“What’s that?” Mira asked.
“No idea.”
“Is it spicy? I love spicy.”
“Looks spicy.” He passed the bottle to her and she sprinkled some on her finger to taste. He kept his eyes on his soup so he wouldn’t stare at her sucking on her fingeragain.
“So a tentacle phobia? Really?”
“Just the …” She waved her fingers. “And their little …” She made a sucking sound. “Just … nope.”
“Wow, something that intimidates Miranda Wentworth.”
She looked up from spooning hot chili paste into her bowl. “If you laugh at me, I will strangle you.”
He bit his lips to hold back his laugh and shook his head. “I am absolutely, definitely not going to laugh at you.”
“Oh, and I’m sure you don’t have any embarrassing little personal quirks?”
“Not a one.” He grinned, nudging her foot with his under the table. “You know I’m perfect.”
“Very funny. Everybody’s got something. Now you know my big embarrassing hang-up. You have to tell me one of yours.”
“I don’t have any phobias.”
“Fine. Something else. Something that embarrasses you.”
Leaning back in his tiny chair, he looked up at the ceiling fans high overhead, their lazy spinning barely stirring the humid air. “There’s nothing, really.”
Across the table, she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re lying. I can tell.”
He huffed, then closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was about to tell someone about this. That he was about to tellMiraabout this.
“I have delicate inner ears.”
She blinked. “What?”
