Page 24 of Mr. Delicious
“What does she mean?”
“She said ‘less dirty and more normal.’” Stella made a face and pouted.
I started laughing. I knew what Shelly meant.
Stella did have a tendency to do articles where she’d recommend dirty and filthy things that would shock some people who wanted to spice up their love lives.
One time, she told one reader to buy a sex toy for her boyfriend of six years who wanted present ideas for their anniversary. Another time, she told a reader who was bored in her relationship to go to a swinger’s party.
I honestly didn’t know where Stella got these ideas from, and she’d gotten away with advising people to do things like that for years.
“Well, can you come up with something that’s less dirty and more normal?”
Us talking like this was helping a lot. Again, it was distracting. And the smooth jazz Selene just put on the sound system was relaxing. It was approaching the time of evening where people were here to relax and chill with their friends and family over a light meal.
“No, I’m not wired that way. So, help me.” Stella looked serious. “Give me your perfect idea for a romantic getaway.”
“Aren’t getaways the kind of thing couples do? I’m not exactly the best person to talk to about that right now.” I was the worst example.
“Come on Wren.” She pouted.
“Okay, what about a spontaneous getaway, completely unplanned? A kind oflet’s just gokind of thing.” I thought of the time of year. It was March. Spring. “ASpring Fling.” I bubbled, laughing.
“Yes, I love it!” Stella gushed, her eyes beamed at me with delight.
“Good. Just go with that.”
“No, silly, now I need ideas for content. I can’t think of anything that doesn’t involve dirt.” A wicked grin flickered across her face. “I need the normalness of your mind. Just forget about that idiot and think of the perfect guy.”
Oh wow, I wished Stella hadn’t said that because right now the perfect guy couldn’t have been anyone besides Mr. Delicious. I couldn’t stop myself from blushing.
“Okay, what do you want me to say?”
“Tell me what you’d classify as perfect and the perfect location for a spring fling.”
“Paris.” No brainer for me. Had to be Paris. I’d always wanted to go. Stella picked up her pen and wrote that down. “He’d pick me up, and we’d just go. Screw the bills and responsibilities. Then we’d go everywhere there. Dinner on top of the Eiffel Tower, overlooking the city below and the beautiful scenery. Lunch in one of those cafés by the Louvre. We’d look at the Mona Lisa and all the other paintings and we’d go to the Champs-Élysées.” Stella’s hands flew across the page excitedly as I continued. “And he’d give me a single red rose every day to make me feel good. At night, we’d dine out at the finest restaurants, the ones where you have a private booth and a violinist that plays for just you. And if we stayed in, it would be because we couldn’t get enough of each other.” I giggled. Sometimes I could be so silly.
I was sure that was a scene from a thousand romantic films rolled into one. The truth, I knew, sucked for me, because there wasn’t anyone like that for me. No one who would take care of me like that.
“I have to go,” Stella announced to my surprise.
“What? But we just …” my voice trailed off as Stella stood up and grabbed her bag.
“That was seriously good. You are amazing and the savior of writer’s blocks. I have to write that article now. It won’t be the same tomorrow.” Stella beamed with excitement. “You know how my creativity works.”
She rushed around and gave me a quick hug and was off before another word could be said. I sat back against the chair, feeling a little meh. I was actually hoping to talk through some more things and run some ideas past her, but it was fine. I understood.
I shuffled to go back to the break room, but before I could move I felt eyes on me, and there was a shift in the atmosphere.
That presence.
I knew who the eyes belonged to even before I turned to face him. But, even though I knew I’d be looking at Mr. Delicious, I still blushed.
He was sitting in the booth across from me, watching. Watching me as if he’d been watching for a while and analyzing me. He sat back against the leather of the booth, looking sinfully delicious indeed, dressed casually in a gray, long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans.
He’d never been here at this time, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing him wear anything other than a dress shirt or suit. Of course, to simply say he looked good was a massive understatement. My heart lifted when I saw him, and my body moved before I could even conjure up what I was going to say.
“Hi,” I said pleasantly. I stopped in front of him.
