Page 77 of Crossing Lines

I chuckle. “Appreciate it. You’ve had Mama G’s food, so you know I learned from the best.”

“Mmhm. It’ll come in handy when you open the restaurant.”

“Yeah, and you could add suggestions for the vegan menu.”

“That’s the chef’s job, though,” she says, wandering over to my record collection.

“True, but I’d also like to add your favorites.”

I notice a sweet smile before she turns back to the records. “You’re good at this.”

“Good at what, baby girl?” I ask smoothly.

“Making me like you.” Her voice is a whisper.

Grinning, I twist to the stove and pour the batter. I’ll make her do more than like me by the end of the day.

The frittata turns out perfect—golden brown and crispy. I slice it down the middle, scoop half onto a plate for Davia, andtake the other for myself. I bring the plates to the table by the window and wait for her to take the first bite.

She stares at me while she chews, an array of expressions on her face.

“So?” I press.

“Not bad,” she says with a lift of her shoulder.

I twist my mouth. “Not bad?”

She chuckles. “Okay, it’s pretty damn good.”

“Thank you.”

Silence trickles in while we enjoy the light meal.

No longer able to hold off, I ask her, “What happened with ol’ boy last night?”

Davia drinks some juice and looks at me. “He apologized for leaving me waiting.”

“What’s new?” I sniff. “Anything else?”

“He left for the weekend,” she adds in a soft tone.

“For real?” I can’t help my excitement. “So we can chill for the weekend then.”

“Kross,” she groans.

I smirk. “Told you about saying my name like that. It seems you want me to do something.”

She sighs and cuts her gaze to the window, her beautiful face glowing in the sunlight.

“Look, I know you’re scared. And I don’t want to pressure you. Like I said, we don’t have to do anything but talk. You told me you like being with me just as I like being with you. So let’s just hang out. Enjoy each other’s company. Cool?”

She looks at me again and nods. “Okay.”

We finish eating and sit on the balcony since it’s not too cold today. Time trickles by with us caught up in conversations punctuated by laughter. Then, we move back into the living room to watch a movie, only to lose the plot and return to sharing stories.

“Why did you get flower tattoos?” she asks. “Is it all over your body?”

“You trying to see my body?” I tease.

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