Page 55 of The Arrogant One
I nodded. “We do.”
“What do you do?—”
The sound of an alarm came through the kitchen, which cut her off and sent me to the oven, nearing where she was sitting.
“Dinner’s done.” I put on the mitts and opened the door.
“I know I haven’t mentioned anything about the scent, but I’ve been breathing it in since I arrived. Whatever you made smells delicious.”
“It’s something I’ve never made before.” I pulled out the large, round cast iron pan and set it on top of the range, removing the foil from the top. I turned a little to the side to show her the masterpiece. “Greek-style meatballs with Parmesan orzo.”
The meatballs were spaced around the pan, the orzo filling the open gaps with slices of lemon resting on top.
“As for the lemon hater, I’m good if it’s a garnish or a hint of a flavor or worked into my cocktail. But for dessert, fuck no.” I laughed as I reached into the oven again and pulled out the foil-wrapped rectangle, placing it beside the cast iron. “A fresh baguette that I even baked myself.”
“It looks amazing, especially for someone who’s never made it before. And freshly baked bread? All right, Chef. I’m impressed.” She raised her hands in the air.
“I came across the recipe a few weeks ago, saving it for the perfect moment. That just happened to be tonight.”
“I’m always hunting for recipes too. Where do you get yours?”
I slipped off a mitt and reached into the drawer next to me and took out a fork, slicing into the side of a meatball to make sure it was the color I was after. Pleased with what I saw, I took that chunk and some of the pasta and held it not far from her mouth.
“I got this one from Dear Foodie.”
She stopped halfway to the tines, her eyes locked with mine. “You did?”
“This isn’t the first recipe I’ve made of hers, and every one has turned out great. Shit, I made her stuffed manicotti a couple of weeks ago for my whole family, and they were blown away.”
Since she still hadn’t moved, I brought the fork even closer to her. She stared at it for a moment before blowing on the meat and parting her lips wider to take it in, immediately covering her mouth after.
“It’s excellent,” she said softly.
“Do you follow her?”
“Who?” She coughed as she swallowed and reached for her drink.
“Dear Foodie.”
“Oh.” She ran her tongue over her teeth and set her glass back down. “Yeah.”
I took the rest of the meatball and popped it into my mouth, the burning worth it—it tasted so good. “That lady knows food. How to make it. Where to eat it. She’s got quite the influence on the food scene around here, wouldn’t you say?” I paused as I reached for two plates. “It’s fucking crazy to me that she’s been able to keep her identity a secret all this time. Everyone wantsto know who she is, and no one can figure it out. Genius, if you ask me.”
I set the fork in the sink, and just as I was turning toward her, her hand cuffed my wrist.
Since I’d pushed up my sleeves, the feel of her hot hand made quite the impression. It also forced me to smile.
“Are you sure that’s allowed, boss? I thought this was ano-touchingzone?”
She stayed silent as she stared at me.
“Someone broke before me. It’s a fucking miracle.” I laughed.
“I changed my mind.”
“About what?”
Now standing, she pulled at the tie that was knotted at her waist until it was loose, the sides of her jacket then falling open.
