Page 22 of Resisting the Billionaire

“What do you think Ser-” Mackenzie stops mid-word as we both finally take notice of Serena, a slight green tint to her already pale expression. “Are you okay?”

She quickly nods, even as she presses a hand to her belly like she might be sick at any moment.

“Did you try something bad?” I ask. “The beef wraps?” We haven’t eaten those yet.

“No,” she says, eyeing the food cautiously. “I don’t eat meat.”

An awkward silence descends on our small group.

“What?”

“I’m a vegetarian.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when I asked if you had any requests for the wedding meal?” Mackenzie asks softly. I wouldn’t attempt such diplomacy if I was her. That’s a huge stipulation. Something that our planner needs to know.

Serena’s gaze darts between us again, the same way it did at the venue earlier, like we’re ganging up on her. Give me a break already.

She hitches her purse higher on her shoulder, clutching at the strap as she steps away from the polished stainless steel table. “Don’t worry about me. I probably won’t even eat at the wedding,” she chuckles nervously. “I, um- I have to go.”

I don’t bother calling out to her to stay. What’s the point?

Kinsley rushes over as Serena disappears through the door to the front area. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I tell her, spooning up a bite of mac and cheese. “Are you able to make any of these meat dishes with some kind of faux soy meat or something too? In case vegetarians attend the wedding?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Great. We’re just going to finish up here.”

“Take your time.”

She leaves the two of us alone to try the other dishes, Mackenzie a bit glum as she knocks back a shot of the cauliflower soup.

“Forget about her,” I tell her, taking another bite of creamy, cheesy noodles. “She’s ridiculous.”

“She’s my client. I have to make her happy.”

“She’s fine with us handling all the details. Kinsley will cook some weird tofu dish for her and everything will be good. Now try some of this mac and cheese.”

I reach my fork out to her, but instead of grabbing it like I expected, she simply leans forward, letting me feed it to her.

She seems to realize what she’s done as soon as her pink lips close over the tines, freezing in place as she looks up at me with wide eyes.

She hastily retreats, wiping at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not sure why I did that,” she chuckles nervously.

“It’s fine,” I rush to say, unable to get the image of her reaching forward to envelop something else between her lips out of my head. I never noticed before today how her top lip is ever so slightly fuller than the bottom. I can’t recall kissing a woman with a mouth like that.

I clear my throat, glancing down so I won’t stare at it. “Uh, what’d you think?”

She stares at me hesitantly.

“Of the food, I mean. The macaroni.”

“Oh,” she flushes. “It was delicious.” She turns away, popping a seasoned waffle fry in her mouth. “Her secret ingredient must be crack or something.”

She slides the plate over to me, the tension breaking.

“I thought wedding meals were always dry chicken or fish.” I sip at the lobster bisque, better than I’ve had at any five-star restaurant.

---