Page 5 of Starving for Her

The way he looked at me…it wasn’t like you might expect from a man who must have had every beautiful woman in the country; it was like he was actually interested in me. Of course, it could have all been an act, but I consider myself a pretty good judge of people and I didn’t pick up on any bullshit.

It really seemed like he actually liked me.

Don’t fall for it!I tell myself. He’s trouble. Nothing but trouble.

In fact, as far as I’m concerned, all men are trouble. I was convinced my father was a good man; he and my mom seemed blissful in their marriage. Then when I was thirteen, my parents split and I found out he’d been cheating on my mom. He moved out and I haven’t seen him since.

My mom tried dating after that, but all the guys she met were jerks. I guess that’s the reason why I never had a serious boyfriend either. What’s the point? When you don’t have any examples of real love—in fact you only have examples of love failing, giving your heart to someone else isn’t your highest priority.

I found my love in cooking.

It started when my mom was too depressed to make food for herself. I learned a few recipes at first and worked on them after school until they were good enough for her to eat. It made my day when she’d enjoy one of them, and I just kept working from there. I got a job at a local diner to help support us, worked my way up, got my job at The White Oak and then—well, you know the rest.

“So, how’d the job interview go?” Gina asks, finally pulling on a pair of shorts and pulling her shirt down.

“Ugh,” I groan. I take my pony tail out and close my eyes. “I don’t even want to tell you.”

“He didn’t like the pulled pork?” she asks. “Or did he ask you to pull his pork?”

Even though I want to jump off of a bridge right now, I have to laugh. I look back at her.

“Well…he kind of did, yeah.”

“And did you!?” she asks, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “Holy shit, Layla! Get the job and then see if you can get me in as a maid, or your assistant or something!”

I shake my head. “I didn’t…pull his pork.”

“I would have,” she replied. Gina would have been one of those girls that I’d seen leaving when I was coming in—one of the ones that James, if he wasn’t lying to me, would have dismissed immediately. “Did he offer you the job?”

“He did,” I reply. “But I’m not going to take it.”

“What? Why not!?”

“Well…I think the bistro is just the best place for me right now—” I tell her, trying not to think about the way his strong hand felt on my back or the way my whole body seemed to light up when he pressed his lips against mine.

“Bullshit,” she says quickly. Gina can read me like a book. “A job like that would pay like ten times what you get at that shitty little excuse for a restaurant. Don’t lie to me, bitch. Why aren’t you taking the job?”

It’s frustrating how well she knows me, which is why I find it almost impossible to admit it to her.

“Because I—I kissed him.”

Gina’s face twists into a knowing grin. She sits up and comes right over to me and basically jumps into my lap, almost crushing me with her legs.

“Gah! Get off!”

“You kissed James Russell?!” she blurts out, grabbing my cheeks with both hands. “I was kidding when I asked if you pulled his pork, you fucking slut! Look at you!”

“I’m not a slut!” I protest, my lips pressed together as I fight to get her off me. “It was one kissand I stopped it before it went any further!”

“Why?!” Gina laughs as I knock her to the floor. “He could be our meal ticket!”

“I don’t want a ‘meal ticket,’ Gina!” I groan, getting up and heading to the fridge for a cucumber-melon seltzer. “I want a real job! I don’t want to be some billionaire’s…plaything!”

“Oh, stop being so noble!” Gina sighs. “If the guy wants to butter you up—to use your chef’s lingo—let him! He’s a catch! And you can’t tell me you didn’t like it when he kissed you.”

“Gina, I—”

I stop when a knock comes from the door. I look at Gina and silently mouth, “Sam?” She frowns and shrugs.

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