Page 32 of For Butter or Worse
She placed her napkin on her lap and slightly rearranged the silverware. Then carefully inspected the breadbasket before grabbing a roll covered in seeds and smearing it with warm butter.
She chewed, swallowed, then took another sip of water. Finally, she looked at Leo. “What? Are you too vain to eat bread?”
“I run an Italian restaurant. We practically invented it.” Leo reached into the breadbasket without looking, and then took an enormous bite of the dinner roll he pulled out of it.
“The Egyptians invented bread, you know.” She licked butter from the corner of her mouth.
“Know-it-all,” he said, shoving a bite of bread in his mouth.
The wine arrived, and the waiter opened the bottle and poured them two generous glasses.
They drank in silence, both chewing bread, then sipping their wine.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Leo took another sip. The wine was crisp and light, with a buttery finish. Not something he would’ve known to order, but he already knew it would perfectly complement the meal. “Seems like maybe you didn’t have a great day.”
Her eyes flitted down, and she fingered the wineglass stem. Her mouth turned into a concerned frown.
He’d never seen her look sad, had he? He’d assumed she was incapable of feelings, judging by her harsh reviews to the contestants, but ever since the pumpkin patch, his perspective had shifted. She was guarded, and very careful about whom she let see beyond the walls she’d so carefully built up.
She studied him for a few seconds, then grabbed another roll. “How is it fair that you eat an entire breadbasket and still have abs, but I just get rounder?”
“Then keep eating, because you’re round in all the right places.” He froze.Holy shit.He really had been single for too long, and now he was letting his cock do the talking.
She stopped chewing and quirked an eyebrow at him.
He was pretty sure his eyebrows had run so far up his head that they were no longer visible. He tried to keep breathing and not let on that he was freaking the fuck out. Yes, she looked amazing in the dress, but that didn’t mean he had a right to comment on her body. And now she likely thought he was some desperate, pathetic loser who’d always had a crush on her. When really, he was just hoping they could get through this date without arguing.
“Sorry to interrupt.” A woman stood in front of their table.
Thank the gods of well-timed interruptions,he thought.
“Chef!” Nina stood and hugged the woman.
“It’s a little hard for the executive chef not to notice when Nina Lyon walks into their restaurant!”
Leo adjusted the cuffs of his shirt. This washismoment. The one that would make the charade of dating Nina worth the hassle. If he wanted to make his own mark on the food world and have any chance at working in TV without Nina, then he had to look alive.
The distraction of meeting the chef was almost enough to help him forget what he’d just accidentally said to Nina. He’d made a little slipup. Not a big deal, but he couldn’t help sneaking glances at her out of the corner of his eye. Was she going to let this go?
“I’m being rude.” Nina turned her focus to him. They locked eyes, and she gave him an encouraging look. “Leo, this is Chef Rhoda Spence. Chef Rhoda, this is Leo O’Donnell,” she said.
He smiled widely and got to his feet, trying not to show so much teeth that he reeked of desperation. He’d meant to say hello, but instead said, “I’m her date.”
He needed help. Professional help, so he wouldn’t sound like a complete doofus. This was a work connection he was making; Rhoda wasn’t a writer forPeoplemagazine. She wouldn’t report back on what she’d seen at their dinner. But the words had flown off his tongue as easily as the compliment to Nina had.
If Nina was bothered, she didn’t show it, as she quickly said, “Leo is also in food.”
“Really?” Chef Rhoda crossed her arms and smiled. “Food people are my kind of people. What do you do?”
Okay, now herewas his in. The chef had no clue who he was. She didn’t watch the show. She assumed Leo was important because he was here with Nina. He wasn’t the comedian sidekick—he was whoever he sold himself to be.
“I’m a restaurant owner.” He stood a little straighter with pride.
“It takes money to run a restaurant,” Chef Rhoda said. “You’re a friend to chefs everywhere.”
“His family started the original Vinny’s in Pasadena.” Nina nodded to Leo, and he nodded back. Sharing a little moment with her was surprisingly comforting. “I’m sure you know it?”
The chef’s brow furrowed and she nodded. “Yes, who doesn’t know Vinny’s?”
