Page 79 of Dining for Love

Tom looks appraisingly at me. “You gonna let her mom fight your battles now, too?”

“Come on, boys,” I say, “we all know that Willa’s gonna leave us all in the dust one day.”

Willa’s head snaps up from the grill, as though she heard me. She probably did. She’s back there making another one of my ridiculous orders—today is the Hashbrown Heaven Special, but of course I don’t want the onions, I want scallions. And I don’t want the actual hash that this one comes with; I want sausage.

She’d been put out, glaring at me from the window while I smiled like a happy schoolboy right back at her.

I absolutely love riling her up. That might be the best part of my day.

Actually, no. Making Willa come is the best part of my day.

Maybe it’s making her smile.

Good lord, what is happening to me? The only time I even remotely relax these days is when I’m with her, threat of the Bunnies be damned.

She has a chokehold on me. To the point where it’s starting to dawn on me that I might be falling for her. There’s no other way to explain the constant pressure in my chest.

Unless it’s heartburn.

But no amount of Tums is curing it, so I’m pretty sure I’m falling for her. Which is absurd, because I’m going back to Miami. Right?

I’m…not so sure anymore.

The click of a shutter going off beside me brings me back to reality once more, and I turn to find JJ inspecting his camera screen in the wake of taking a photo.

“Hand it over,” I state.

He looks up at me, startled. “I’ve got every right?—”

I slide off the stool and use every bit of my bulk against his scrawny stature. “I said, hand it over.”

His eyes wide, he hands the expensive camera to me.

I look at the screen. Sure enough, it’s another photo of me. I deleteit, then hand the camera back at him.

He stares at the camera in shock. “Hey! You can’t do that,” he protests.

“I can, and I did,” I say, my voice low. I know I sound like an asshole—and, truthfully, I’m being one—but Willa’s safety is at risk. So I continue. “If you take one more picture of me without my consent, or if you print anything about me in your paper, I will make your life uncomfortable. Do you understand me?”

He blinks and takes a step back. “It’s just?—”

I should feel bad. He’s doing his job. But again: Willa. And for her, there’s no compromise. “No. There is no ‘just’ about this. There is a ‘yes, I understand’ answer, and it is the only answer.”

He nods. “Okay.”

I step forward, crowding him and making his back bow a little. “I didn’t hear you.”

He licks his lips nervously. “I said, okay, I won’t take any more pictures of you.”

I straighten and smile, clapping him on the back far harder than is necessary. “Wonderful! Have a seat. Get some lunch. I’ll buy.”

He pales. “I’ll, uh, pass.”

I grin maniacally at him. “You sure?”

He nods and backs up. “Yeah. Thanks, ah, thanks anyway.”

I watch with no small amount of pleasure as he skitters away.

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