Page 13 of Heart Stopping
"You can start by plating up the risotto," I said. The ravioli wasn't quite ready. That was what I told myself. It had nothing to do with not wanting her to be an accessory to the things I did.
Although, if she was going to do more cooking, it was inevitable. Unless I found a different method of disposal.
If Boner came around again, I'd ask him. He might have ideas I hadn't thought about. Methods he'd worked out that could work for me. Hopefully he would drop by. I really didn't want to involve Erin, if I could help it.
Of course, seeing him again had nothing to do with sex. It was all about covering my ass, not having him grab it.
That was what I told myself. I totally wouldn't picture him eating me out here in my own kitchen. No way. No matter how good the man was with his tongue. That was a one time thing.
End of story.
“Yes, chef." Erin hurried to spoon risotto into bowls and place them up as Gina appeared to take them out to customers.
"Your boyfriend's here again," Gina said, giving me a sly look as she grabbed the bowls and hurried away.
For a moment, I thought she was talking about Boner, but then I looked out as Cass slipped into his usual chair.
Instead of a tablet, today he had a book in his hand. And bright pink earbuds, which he pulled out of his ears and pressed into his pocket.
He glanced over in my direction and grinned.
I ignored the strange thudding in my chest that could have been my heart and smiled back. Just a little bit. I didn't want him to think we could be anything more than casual friends. I shouldn't even let him be that.
I picked up a clean milkshake glass and held it up to show him I remembered what I said about giving him unlimited milkshakes. Even though I didn't think he'd actually sue me. A girl couldn't be too careful though, right?
I told myself this had nothing to do with me liking the guy, and everything to do with wanting to avoid scrutiny. Under the radar was right where I liked it.
He grinned bigger and nodded before picking up his book and opening it. He proceeded to stare at the page like he was reading the same line over again, distracted by… Probably the restaurant around him, not me.
Trying not to look too amused or interested, I made him a chocolate milkshake with extra chocolate and carried it out to him myself.
It was the least I could do after throwing him onto the concrete. A bit of personal service went a long way. I learned that a long time ago. Some customers loved to be fawned over by the chef, the owner or both. If it kept them coming back, I'd indulge them when I had the time.
Especially if they were people I had my eye on anyway. Yes, we got those in here. They let me into their world just enough for me to take them out of mine.
"Compliments of the chef," I said as I set it down in front of him. "You know, we do a mean freshly squeezed orange juice and a virgin bloody Mary, right?"
We served wine as well, but he didn't look like a wine kind of guy. Or a drinking at lunchtime kind of guy.
"I'm sure they're great, but I like my hit of dairy and sugar," he said. He picked up the milkshake to take a sip through the paper straw. "I'm hungry today, what would you recommend from the menu?"
The look he gave me suggested he knew I'd see right through the question. He wasn't so much hungry as eager to keep talking to me.
"I can recommend the risotto," I said. "Or the sweet potato gnocchi. That comes with a creamy, white wine sauce with fresh herbs." I wasn't going to tell them which herbs, I had to keep some things secret. But I did add, "And a hint of truffles."
At the same time, one of the customers from the table beside his leaned over and said, "My dude, you have to try the meatballs. I've never tasted anything like it. It's pork, or something like that, right?" He looked up at me questioningly, while holding his fork in his hand, one of the meatballs skewered at the end, almost dangling off the prongs.
"Something like that," I agreed. "With beef." Actual beef. I didn't say that last bit out loud. "Also with a hint of truffles." What can I say, I had a thing for them. They added a certain decadence to so many of my recipes. A quiet decadence. I made good food, not showy.
"I think I have to try to meatballs then," Cass said, totally oblivious to my wince.
Or perhaps he didn't see it, because I managed to keep it on the inside. I wouldn't be able to do half of the things I did if I didn't have a practiced poker face.
Ironic, because I sucked at playing poker. Personally, I preferred a good game of chess. Another thing my father taught me.
"If you're sure," I said. "The risotto is very good." It was my personal favorite, especially with loads of mushrooms and topped with Parmesan cheese. Even on my nights off, I made it for myself to eat.
"I'm sure," Cass said with a nod. "It comes highly recommended." He pointed his book in the direction of the other customer.
