Page 20 of Never Have I Ever

The moonlight reflects off the blade, causing me to laugh. I’d forgotten I was holding it. Guess I’m more intimidating than I thought after all. “I can do that.”

He backs up and grabs my stuff from the trunk, loading it into the back of his truck without so much as a word shared between us. What’s there to say anyway? There seems to be a mutual dislike.

No small talk needed. What a relief.

No fake pleasantries. I’m good with that.

I’ll find a room tonight, and tomorrow, I’ll be on my way. Awesome.

I climb into the cab of the truck and slam the door closed. “Will my car be okay out here? I couldn’t get the window closed because the battery died.”

He puts his seat belt on but stays parked. “Tell me something. How were you planning to survive the night on a dead battery and broken fuel pump?”

“I didn’t know I needed to worry about my car breaking down. I was just happy to leave.”

His loud scoff drags my eyes to him. “Happy to be leaving me? Got it.”

“You clearly didn’t want me to be there,” I toss out the little reminder. Though I could reference his favorite line, it’s not worth stirring up trouble again, especially when he was kind enough to stop and help me. I have a feeling his kindness doesn’t extend far, so I better make plans for the night as soon as we get to town.

When he picks up speed, I roll up my window to keep the cold out. The cab is instantly cozier, leaving me to breathe a little easier. We only get a mile or so before I ask, “Where are you taking me?” Why do I sound like he’s forgiven? He’s not.

“To eat.”

I sit forward and glare at him. “What? Why?”

“Because someone threw my dinner out.” He’s not wrong.

Resting back again, I cross my arms over my chest. He’s not getting an apology out of me until he says it first. And judging by how he’s seemingly ignoring me, I think it will be a long time coming.

That’s okay. I have all night.

7

Poppy

Cutting the engine, he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. They’re so blue, a powdery blue standing in contrast to his dark hair, but not his mood. By all appearances, he fits the air he gives off—brooding. A little Edward Cullen. A lot Lestat.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I interrupted his night, which is a no-no in my business. Clients of his magnitude, who can afford my fees as a personal chef, generally don’t like to have contact with the staff. I consider it a perk of my job, if I’m being honest. In this case, my bad.

Although that leaves me unsure of when he expects me to prepare his dinner, I wonder if I was wrong. It’s his house. His time, which I’m sure is valuable, considering he can afford a private chef for a week in the middle of nowhere. In comparison, I’m being paid for mine to be there.

His heavy sigh has me imagining him dragging his feet. “Are you hungry?”

“Are you asking me on a date?”

No laugh, making me think my joke didn’t land as intended. His jaw tic grabs my attention as his gaze shoots forward through the windshield toward the restaurant. I’m given another sigh, more exasperated than the last, and then he says, “You seem to be good at stalking, so I guess I don’t need to tell you where to find me.” He gets out of the truck and shuts the door before I have time to understand what he’s even talking about.

Stalking?

What the hell?

I grab my phone, ready to call Marina, but when I search the dash of the car, there doesn’t seem to be anywhere for me to charge it. There’s a lighter and the air conditioner has a slider. By the style, I knew the truck was old, but it’s ancient. He’s probably some techie millionaire who paid too much so he can pretend he’s down to earth.

He's lucky I signed an NDA.

Speaking of, I don’t even know his name. With a dead phone and no way to access my emails, that only leaves one way for me to find out. I hop out of the truck and march into Maggie’s Café to find him. What else am I going to do? Sit out here and wait for him.

A bell dings above my head when I open the door. I don’t need to stop and look around. He stands out in the bustling restaurant and bar.

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