Page 59 of Single-Minded
He smiles. “Lifelong.”
“Why do you think that is?”
“I think,cher,” he says, “that there’s something about you that feels like home to me.”
“You mean I remind you of New Orleans?” I ask, both confused and wanting him to say more.
“No, I mean, when you’re around I feel comfortable and excited and part of something, if that makes any sense to you.”
I nod.
The crew finishes cleaning up and leaves for the night, and Daniel and I move to our usual table by the railing, sipping our wine and not saying much.
I’m still not sure exactly why he wanted me to stay, although I’m hoping that it has more to do with the dance than the restaurant project. I’ve decided to play it casual, stay loose, and see where Daniel is going with this. Which will only require me overcoming basically every single aspect of my personality.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” he says.
“Me too.”
“Is this weird,” he asks, “with us working together?”
“Not yet,” I quip. “But you know me.”
He laughs. “I do.” He sips his wine and fiddles with his cocktail napkin. “So, did you really think I was gay?” His mouth is set in a smile, but his eyes are serious.
“I wasn’t sure,” I say. “I mean, I would have been fine with it either way.”
He looks crestfallen. “Really?”
“Sure, I’ve worked with lots of gay chefs before.” I smile to myself. It’s been thirty whole seconds and I haven’t professed my massive crush on him, or tackled him to the ground to kiss him or anything! Clearly, I’m on a roll.
Daniel takes a deep breath and reaches across the table to touch the back of my hand. “There are a hundred reasons why I should bring this up later,” he says. “We’re working together, you’ve just gone through a really rough divorce… but every time we’re together I just want to spend all day talking to you. And when you leave, I can’t stop thinking about the next time I’ll see you. I kept feeling there might be something between us, but now that I know you’ve been thinking I’m gay this whole time, I’m wondering if I was just imagining it all.”
I smile. “I did think you were gay. So imagine how confused I was. I kept thinking, am I actually flirting with a gay man? And then I’d think,well, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Not gay.” He smiles.
“Not gay.” I nod.
There’s another awkward silence between us, and after a seemingly interminable pause, Daniel speaks again.
“So, I don’t want to make our working relationship awkward. I like you a lot. I’d like to spend more time with you if you’re up for it. And if you’re not interested, or you feel that it would compromise you professionally or make working together uncomfortable, or if you might be interested but it’s just way too soon, just say the word and I’ll keep it to myself. Forever, if you’d like. Or until tomorrow. Either way.”
“You’re a client,” I say.
He grins. “Only for one more week.”
All is quiet but for the waves lapping against the side of the boat. Daniel’s chair is angled toward mine, close enough for our knees to touch while we’re talking. I try not to look at him gratuitously, but he’s funny and handsome and has these crazy sexy blue eyes and the anticipation of what he might say or do next is driving me to mad contemplation. There’s something so delicious in the waiting and wondering.
For a long time we sit there not saying anything, enjoying the quiet of the bay and the occasional steamy knee bump.
Daniel puts his hand near the armrest of my chair and gently strokes my forearm with his index finger.
“Are you chilly,cher? Do you want my jacket?”
“Thank you, I’m fine,” I say. Despite the fact that I’m not the least bit chilly, I’m tempted to borrow Daniel’s suit jacket just to feel his warmth, even by way of an article of clothing, to inhale his scent more subtly than, say, taking a big snort next to his neck the next time he leans forward. I wonder if men think the same way, if Daniel would notice the heat of my body inside his jacket, or if he’ll smell my perfume lingering long after I’ve gone home.
“Do you mind if I ask why you thought I was gay?” he asks.
