Page 19 of The Princess and the Nerd

The way he looks down at me, with his dark eyes behind those glasses gives me tingles in all the wrong places. I definitely should not be tingling for this man! He’s a huge asshole.

But then he moves over to a simmering pot, and pours the liquid into a small, ceramic mug. “A cup of chai masala?” he offers.

“Sure,” I say, taking the mug from him and bringing it to my lips. My eyes close again. Dammit. That isso good. I can feel it warming my body all the way to the tips of my toes. And when I open my eyes, and see him standing inches away from me, studying my reaction carefully, I begin to get warm in other places, too.

I clear my throat, putting down the tea. “It’s okay. So what can you do for me?”

He chuckles. “If you think my cooking is okay, you should see what my aunties can do.”

“Mr. McGuinty, I am sorry, but I don’t care about your cooking right now. I just care about saving my business, and correcting the horrible, erroneous things you wrote online.”

“I will give it my full attention as soon as I can,” he says, moving back to the oven. “Hey, do you want to stay for dinner? We can talk after that. My aunties will be here soon.”

I sigh deeply. Do I have a choice? “Sure,” I grumble.

He grins. “Hey, Willow. Cook something for me. Anything. Your specialty.”

“I don't really cook too much anymore, H.D. I can help you, but I don’t want to create a meal from scratch just to have you trash it again.”

“Then how am I supposed to believe that I missed something at your restaurant?”

“Usually, I have a team of excellent chefs managing things, but they were incapacitated that day. So what you tastedwasmy cooking. And I fear it wasn’t as excellent as theirs would have been.”

“No,” he says. “You came here to fight for yourself. So fight.”

“I’m just being honest,” I admit. “I have… a bit of a mental illness. OCD. It makes me get extremely stressed when I'm cooking. I measure everything again and again, trying to make it perfect..."

"Just try. Make me something. If it's good, maybe I'll think about giving you another chance.”

"What do you want me to cook?" I ask with a sigh.

"Whatever you want. I have a well-stocked fridge.”

I walk over to his fridge and begin to hunt for ingredients for this challenge. What should I make? What recipe is always a big hit? Baked brie and blueberries? Maybe too simple. No, I should make something that suits the rest of the meal. When I finally decide, and gather my ingredients, I move toward the mixing bowls.

“By the way,” H.D. adds. “Since you're staying, can you pretend you're my girlfriend so the aunties stop setting me up with every single girl they know? Thanks!”

With that, he leaves the room. Leaving me speechless.

I drop everything and follow him.

“What the hell? I never agreed to this, dude.”

“You want me to give your restaurant another chance, right? Maybe retract or revise my review? That's a personal favor, Willow. So do me this personal favor, if you would like my help. Fair trade?”

Damn. Well, I have no choice, do I?

“I’m going to put on a shirt,” he announces.

Thank God for that.

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