Page 38 of Challenged By You
I open my mouth to respond, but it only comes out as a squeak. Trina sends me a stern look but begins helplessly giggling. Slowly, she slides her body between mine and the stove to call the kids to dinner. Just like the first time we ate together, she puts Chris in the chair, Annie in her lap. “Nono, sit!” Annie demands.
Woodenly, I move to the table.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to swallow at this point, but I have to.
It just became a primal need to taste the sugar off her lips later before I leave to go home.
Chapter 14
Trina
Jerome called out with a slight bug, so I’m pulling a double so my team doesn’t end up being hit by a Mack truck when the dinner rush hits. Unfortunately, it resulted with a nasty conversation between me and my mother to ask her to watch my children for an extra few hours. It was so bad, it ended by her slamming the phone down in my ear and my having to step outside into the alley to regain my composure. “I’ll help you get home,” Elle said the minute I stepped back to the dessert station.
“Thanks. I don’t relish paying her double plus shelling out a ridiculous amount of money for a cab.”
“Well, there’s just going to be one small price to pay,” she teased with a wicked smile.
“There always is.” I brace myself for what’s coming.
“Tell me everything about Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious,” Elle demands as she rinses raspberries in the sink next to me.
“We’re in the middle of work.”
“What better place? We never get to gossip at work.”
“There’s a good reason for that,” I counter.
“Oh?” Elle props a hip against the cooler. “Why’s that?”
“Because of the forty or so other people who could overhear us?”
“Pshaw. They’ll be too busy. Just wait. I’ll find the right time,” she warns me as she begins to whisk chocolate to drizzle over the soon-to-be-dried berries.
“What do you want to know?” Wearily, I lift my apron up to scrub against my face. “You’re not getting my cheesecake recipe, so that’s out.”
“Please, I already know it. You talk in your sleep.”
Appalled, I gape at my best friend. “I do not.”
“Do so.”
“Do not.”
“Do so. How do you think I knew what size panties to get you for Christmas last year?” Of course she yells this just as Chef Sterling walks by.
I stammer, “It’s not what it sounds like, Chef Sterling.”
Elle, ever the drama queen, flings her hand with the whisk of chocolate up to her brow—splattering everyone and everything in a two-foot radius with the semi-sweetness that reminds me all too closely of Jonas’s eyes. “I see how it is. Best friends and boxed wine don’t mean a thing once you find a man.”
“Keep talking and I’ll spill the beans about what you stuffed your cake with during pastry school finals,” I threaten.
Elle’s mouth freezes in face as the chocolate drips down her glove-covered hand. “You wouldn’t,” she whispers, horrified.
Proving I’m no pushover, I stand to my full height and address an entranced Sterling. “Chef, would you like to know what can be substituted for ricotta? It’s…” A hand coated in chocolate is slapped over my mouth from behind.
I do what comes naturally. I lick it before taking a nip hard enough to cause Elle to squeal.
Freed, I comment, “Delicious, but it needs a pinch more salt.”
