Page 32 of Golden Touch
She laughs. “Don’t worry, I eventually discovered cooking shows. I couldn’t get the same ingredients, but I really learned a lot. I wanted to go to culinary school, but Vermont only had one, and I couldn’t afford it. So I chose bookkeeping instead.”
“It’s never too late,” I point out.
She shakes her head. “I actually like working with numbers. And restaurant hours are terrible. If I ever got the chance to go back to school, I think I’d become an accountant. It’s not sexy, but it’s a good living.”
“Oh, please. Like you couldn’t make accounting sexy? You’re halfway there already. A pencil skirt and some fuck-me heels. I’d want to do you on your desk. Just saying.”
She puts her face in her hands and laughs. “Stop it. You have a one-track mind.”
“Two tracks. Don’t forget the beer.”
There’s nothing sexier than Livia laughing. She gets this exasperated expression on her face, like she doesn’t know whether to kiss me or kill me. “Okay, fine—two tracks. Beer and women.”
“Beer andyou,” I correct. “I’m picky. And you’re the first woman who’s made me this crazy in a really long time.” I might as well just lay it out there. Gotta shoot my shot.
She sobers up immediately. “That’s just because I said no. You’re probably not used to hearing it.”
I put down my fork. “Sorry, but you’re wrong. First time I ever saw you smile, I said, ‘I have to get to know her.’ And, sure, it’s only been a week, but everything I see of you I like. You’re fierce. You make a mean chicken salad. You’re smarter than most of the population, and you don’t take any shit from anyone. Your body makes me hot, but your smiles make me hotter. And I spend a good portion of every day trying to figure out how I can get more of them. You understand?”
Her mouth parts with surprise, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Think it over,” I say, pushing back my chair. “I’ve got to go spend the last ten minutes of the lunch break with the brewers, so they don’t have a chance to get stoned before we mash in another tank of Meadow Gold.”
CHAPTER 14
LIVIA
After lunch, I’m so distracted that it takes me two tries to wrap Leila’s baby gift in pink paper.
The baby’s name is Reina, for “queen,” which is what Matteo calls Leila as a pet name. I’ve always found it incredibly romantic. I’ve met Matteo on several occasions, and I think the world of him.
It’s funny how I trust Matteo to be an excellent partner to Leila, and an excellent father to Reina, too. I’m as sure about him as I am that the sun will rise tomorrow.
But I firmly believe that no man will ever love me like that. I don’t doubt that fact, like I don’t doubt that mud season will arrive in Vermont.
No man has ever made a speech to me like Nash did at lunch. I couldn’t even make a snarky comeback, I was so surprised. I appreciate the compliments he paid me. Because Idomake a mean chicken salad, and I am smarter than most people realize. It’s nice of him to say so.
But it doesn’t change how I feel at a gut level—that there’s a fundamental glitch in the universe between me and functional relationships.
It probably has something to do with my childhood. Nash hadlooked startled when I told him about my mother. But I only told him half the story. Sure, I learned to cook and do the shopping. I did those things because I was trying to please her. I thought if I were a little more competent, she’d finally love me back.
The result was just the opposite. My hard work seemed to fill her with rage. “You think you’re so special,” she loved to say. “So high on yourself.”
She’s the reason I became a people pleaser. The teacher’s pet. The friend that everyone calls when they’re in a bind.
It’s also why I’ve been so stupid when it comes to the men in my life. My ex is the perfect example. For a while, he made me feel beautifulanduseful, he hooked me like a fish.
Then he broke my life and left me with scars—both literal and figurative—and I finally learned not to blindly hope someone will be good to me just because I’m me.
I can’t risk my job, my livelihood, and my sanity for a fling with Nash, no matter how much fun it would be. But as I carefully tape the wrapping paper into place, I still hear his voice in my head.You’re the first woman who’s made me this crazy in a long time.
It doesn’t mean much, but it sure was nice to hear.
At quitting time, I cross the parking lot with my usual furtive glances to make sure nobody’s ready to pounce. I don’t see anyone, and as I unlock the door, my thoughts turn to dinner.
It’s weird the way Nash and I have settled into a homey little pattern for lunch and dinner. I cook, or else he buys takeout. Tonight, I’m thinking of wowing him with my homemade guacamole. And fish tacos, maybe?
In the kitchen, I find a note on the counter.
