Page 6 of Taming a Menace
“It feels weird eating while you watch.”
“I would watch you do anything,” he retorted.
The corner of my mouth lifted. My eyes flitted to his empty glass. Maybe he was drunk. He did tell me that he was a lightweight.
“How much of that scotch have you had?” I asked with a smile.
“Just the two shots you poured,” he said, quickly lifting his shoulders while mixing something in a metal bowl.
“Oh you were just letting me sit here and get tipsy by myself. I feel like such a lush.”
He shook his head. “Don’t. Tonight is for you.”
“Well I want you to join me. It already sucks that I’m spending what was supposed to be my anniversary as a singlewoman. Now I’m sitting here like the most pathetic girl in the world eating and drinking alone.”
“I don’t usually do that.” He refuted with a shake of his head.
“You made enough right?” I quizzed, raising up from my seat to see that there was plenty of food left.
“Probably. I wanted to make enough so that you had leftovers.”
“Well eat with me.”
“Only if you tell me what has so much sadness behind those pretty eyes.”
I blushed. I never blushed, but this man I knew little to nothing about made me blush. It wasn’t missed on me that he thought I looked sad. Forget the pretty part. I’d been told I was pretty a million times. A man that I’d just met wanted to know what made me so sad.
“OK.” I nodded in agreement.
He stretched his eyes as if he was waiting for me to go on. A laugh escaped my lips as I widened my eyes and mimicked his actions.
“Go ahead,” he said, placing his hands on the counter in front of him.
“Not until you make your plate and sit down,” I countered.
“Oh, you don’t trust me?” He grinned.
“I don’t know you enough to trust you, sir.”
He chuckled. “You’re right.”
Realizing that I wasn’t going to fold, he used the second plate to fill it with food.
“You should have some of the salad too,” I recommended. “It was so good.”
“I’m allergic to shellfish. I don’t think it will hit the same without the scallops.”
“Oh wow. How did you cook it?” I frowned.
“I wore gloves. It’s cool as long as I don’t touch or consume it. Just sucks that I can’t taste test. I learned that the hard way in culinary school.”
“Darn. I’m sorry to hear that.” I pouted.
“It’s cool. Let me hear about Iyla. That’s what I want to talk about.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’m thirty years old, newly single. I’ve had a passion for mental health since my uncle had a breakdown when I was a teenager. So I went to school to be a clinical psychologist and have been doing what I love for the past four years. I’ve been working on my doctorate on and off.”
“That’s what youdo,not who you are. While I commend you for chasing your dreams, I want to know about Iyla. Who is she outside of her career?” he quizzed.
