Page 25 of Fake Dating My Billionaire Boss

A slurping, popping sound behind me reminds me that I have my sauce on medium high. I turn and stir it as I say, “So, let me get this straight. Not only do you not keep butter in your fridge, but you don’t keep any food in your fridge. So, what do you eat?”

“I start the day with an espresso at six o’clock. I drink a protein shake post morning run. Then another espresso at ten. For lunch, I eat out. I have a third espresso shot at two pm.”

“Every day? Like clockwork?”

“Like clockwork.”

His ever-so-serious tone says he’s not kidding.

“Okay, so you like your routines, I take it.” I set the pot of water I’d positioned on a back burner to high, and then add a dash of salt. “What do you do for dinner?”

“I usually heat up a frozen burrito. And I also keep frozen waffles around for snacking. Blueberry. They’re a weakness of mine. Too much sugar and carbs, but they taste good.” He lifts a corner of his mouth in a half smile. “Actually, I don’t know if I’ve ever told anyone my daily menu. It sounds odd, said aloud.”

“The thing I can’t figure out is how you think blueberry waffles taste good without butter.”

“They’re like warm, crispy cookies. I usually eat them, when I do, at night. Sort of a dessert.”

I can’t contain a laugh. “That is so… weird!”

“It is, now that I think about it.” To my surprise, he laughs, too. It’s a low, rumbly chuckle that makes that darn being-sprinkled-with-fairy-dust feeling swirl through me again. Like when he kissed me.

Shoot.

Now I’m thinking about that kiss again.

I catch his eye, and as our laughter dies down, I see that spark again, deep behind his brown irises. He’s thinking about our kiss too, maybe. He looks at me for a long minute, then sniffs the air. “Smells good. What is it, again?”

“Pasta Pomodoro. It might sound fancy, but it’s actually a super simple dish. Your basic spaghetti and tomato sauce. And I’m making meatballs.”

“I am hungry.”

“Good.” I turn back to the stove to stir.

It’s a palpable feeling when he moves away. Like being disconnected from an IV infusion that was dripping giddy excitement straight into my veins.

I must have had the burner on a little too high because my sauce is still bubbling. Each time a bubble pops, more drips speckle the surroundings. I twist the dial to a lower setting, stir, and check on my pasta water. Then I busy myself with chopping parsley.

The kitchen’s so quiet, I start to think maybe Damian left. But when I check in on Bo, I see Damian squatting down by the fridge. He’s stroking Bo’s head; that soft spot, right between his ears.

Bo looks up at Damian with clear adoration. I can almost see his little doggy-brain gears turning, churning out thoughts:So, I have another person. I like my new person.

“Careful,” I tell Damian, “If he looks at you like that, it means he likes you. He’s going to start running off with your shoes every chance he gets.”

Damian chuckles. He gives Bo a few more rubs and then gets to his feet. “Can I—do you want me to, I don’t know… help?”

“You sound like you’re volunteering to jump off a gang plank.” “Like I said, I’m not great with cooking.” “You could slice up the bread,” I offer.

He runs his hands under water at the sink, and then joins me at the counter near the stove. I push a cutting board his way and then put the loaf of bread on it. “I’m going to leave knife-choosing to you.” I gesture to the display. “I look at that and go cross-eyed.”

He laughs again. Why does his laugh make me feel like I’ve won the lottery?

“Is it terrible to admit I’ve never even used one of these?” He surveys the many options for as long as I did, which makesme feel a little better about my confusion. I finish chopping the parsley and slide it into the skillet. Beside me, a faint sawing sound lets me know Damian’s getting to work on the bread.

As I start in on the basil I say, “Well, you don’t have food in your fridge, but at least you have a lifetime supply of soda by the looks of it.”

“A perk of the job, I guess.”

“Are you really the CEO these days? Back when I lived in town, it was your dad in charge.”

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