Page 54 of Perfect (mis)Match

“I get it. And it sounds like your dad misses her.”

He frowned at me. “You picked up on that?”

“He almost came out and said it—kind of hard not to!” I laughed. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Not really,” he said as he gathered ingredients and a crepe pan. “He’ll just fuck it up again. He’s the perfect example of why long-term relationships are hardly ever possible. They’re designed to fail—just like all his marriages.”

My stomach dropped at his tone. He really believed that?

“Sit,” Vincent pointed at the bar that opened to where he was cooking. “Watch and learn.”

I snorted. “Maybe I already know how to make them?”

“In that case,” he pushed the bowl closer to me. “Go for it.”

I laughed. “Okay, busted. I’m more of a frozen waffles kind of chef. But I’ll be your eager student.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “That’s not the only thing you’re eager about.”

“Can you blame me?” I gestured to his body.

Vincent had opted to perform his chef duties shirtless and in the grey sweats that hung low enough on his hips to drive me wild. Every time he moved, my eyes were drawn south to watch the show.

Everything he did was watch-worthy. He was so confident in the kitchen that I wondered if he’d had professional help beyond his mother. But then again, that was Vincent. He was good ateverything.

Even fucking.Especiallyfucking.

When he finished cooking, we took our plates outside to his balcony and once again I found myself shocked at how beautiful it was. The city stretched out for miles in every direction, but the spot was landscaped with potted trees and walls of vegetation soit seemed like we were in a private park. With the morning sun warming us, it felt like I was on vacation.

“This is delicious,” I said as dug into a Nutella-laced crepe. “You’re incredible.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he replied without even raising his eyes from his plate.

I kicked him under the table.

“Ow! What’s wrong with admitting my awesomeness?” he asked with his mouth full.

I considered it. “For you, nothing. It totally tracks.”

He paused. “Are you saying I’m an egomaniac?”

I held my hand up with my thumb and pointer finger an inch apart.

He shrugged and got back eating. “You’re incredible too—you just refuse to acknowledge it.”

The surprise compliment warmed my heart. “That was unexpected.”

“That’s my point; it shouldn’t be. You need to learn to own your awesomeness. You’re very talented.”

My bottom lip pouted out. “Aw. Thanks.”

“It’s true. You’re great at everything but parking.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed at him. “Of course you couldn’t just let me have my moment!”

“Not when it comes to parking,” he said as he downed more crepe. “But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

I was about to lean into what I assumed would be more pre-sex bantering when Vincent’s phone rang. He glanced at it and froze.

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