Page 38 of Stolen Dreams

Rice-shaped and decorated to look like different animals. Vegetables sliced into stars, hearts, and other various designs or left whole. Thin cuts of chicken with teriyaki sauce on the side. A small bowl of fresh fruit. The younger kids are thrilled by the adorable display. And thankfully, the chefs made “adult” versions of the same lunch for the teens.

As plates are delivered, I can’t help but notice I’m the only person with fish instead of chicken.

Ray has seen me eat twice, and both times, I’ve had fish on my plate. That he’s paid attention and remembered such a detail makes me bite my cheek throughout lunch.

As we clear and wipe down the tables, I spot Ray in my periphery. Huddled with the teens, he promises things will be more exciting soon. Lips pursed, one of the teens shrugs and mutters something inaudible. The others appear a little more accepting and appreciative.

Taking the last of the trash from our table to the bin, I approach Chef Beaulieu at the front of the room.

“Thank you for a wonderful first class, Chef. It’s great that you’re offering this for the kids.”

An amiable, genuine smile brightens his features as he extends his hand for me to shake. His skin is more calloused than I expect, but his grip is gentle, firm yet supple. “I should be the one thanking you, Ms. Imala. Your time is valuable, and we appreciate you spending it with us. Your assistance eases our stress and helps the kids focus better. And please, call me André.”

I lean closer and whisper, “Only when the kids aren’t around.” I straighten and see Ray heading our way. “While class is in session, they should address you as Chef.”

His affectionate smile morphs into this pulse-pounding beam. It’s impossible not to be pulled in and enthralled by the sight. “Of course, you’re right.” Brilliant smile still in place, he winks.

Is that a requirement to work at Calhoun’s Bistro? An addictive smile the patrons will melt over.

Ray sidles up to me at the counter, the heat of his gaze on my profile. “Good first class?”

My body hums as I turn to meet his waiting stare. He’s close. Much closer than expected. I swallow and nod. “Great.” Perspiration dampens my skin and I pop the buttons on my chef’s coat. “Kids really enjoyed it.”

I don’t miss the way his intense focus falls and latches on to my fingers as I undo each button. How the muscles in his jaw flex as I reach the last one. The way his Adam’s apple bobs as I peel off the coat.

The way he can’t take his eyes off me… this man likes me in a chef’s coat. Would undoubtedly prefer it to be his and nothing else. But the fire in those dark irises as each button pops free… he aches for the slow, torturous way I take it off more.

“Did you?” Ray asks, voice low, gravelly.

I fold the coat and drape it over my arm. “Did I what?”

His dark gaze drifts up and locks onto mine once more. “Enjoy the class.”

Right. “Yes.” Peeking around the room, I inch closer to him and lower my voice. “But I do prefer gouda over cheddar.” I straighten and bite the inside of my cheek.

His eyes dart between mine for three erratic heartbeats. “Noted.”

A student says goodbye as they exit and it snaps my attention back to reality. I glance at my watch and see it’s just after one.

“I should head out.” I amble back to the table and collect my things. Ray follows in my wake like a proprietorial shadow. “They need me at the rec center,” I say as I shoulder my bag.

“Let me walk you out.”

I open my mouth to tell him it isn’t necessary but can’t form the words. He would ignore my dismissal anyway.

We weave through the dining room in comfortable silence. A low hum in the air between us. When we reach the door, he holds it open and gestures for me to exit. I expect him to linger on the threshold and say his farewell from the door. But as I step into the sunshine, his shoes clap the stone pavers behind me.

The last time a man pursued me,reallygave chase, was in college. I didn’t make it easy for him, but that was part of the thrill. Although I was career-focused and not looking for a relationship, one man snuck in and cross-wired my lifelong plan. For the first time in years, my career wasn’t my only priority. Eager but scared to leap, I needed him to prove I’d be more than one night between the sheets. He didn’t disappoint.

At the start of my third semester in college, Ren Tajima sat several seats from me in cultural anthropology. The course wasn’t crowded, but the occupied seats outweighed the empty ones.

I remember the first day our eyes met. The twinkle in his dark hazels made my stomach flutter.

During the second week of class, we arrived within seconds of each other. As we scurried for our seats, we bumped into one another, and my notebook fell out of my hands. Ever the proper gentleman, he bent down, picked it up, and handed it back with a soft, apologetic smile on his lips. He introduced himself, asked my name, and what year I was in. The conversation was cordial, if not a little generic, lasted maybe a minute, and then we took our seats.

Every day after the incident, Ren smiled at me before class started. And every time, his smile reached his eyes and emphasized that alluring twinkle. When the opportunity struck, he sat closer. It wasn’t long before friendship sparked. By the middle of the semester, he asked me on a date, and I said yes.

I liked Ren. I enjoyed spending time with him. But as time ticked by, I knew we’d never bemore.

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