Page 24 of Dirty Chef
I was long overdue. Right then and there, I decided I would talk to him after the Valentine’s celebration was over at the restaurant.
Eight
Alessia Rossi
I felt much better the following morning. Not only was my period over, but it felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Okay, it’d been replaced by a bucket of unease, though I could work with that. I would fight my hardest to make the best of the situation once I’d come clean.
Adam had already taken off when I emerged from my bedroom, and he’d left a note on the kitchen island to let me know the taste testing began at five.
I sent him a text.
Thank you for everything last night. You’re officially my hero, even though you’re not here to accept my attack hug.
I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the send button. Should I maybe take a lighthearted route and add some playfulness? He did like it when I goofed off with him. Besides, I wouldn’t turn down another reaction like the one I got last night.
So I added a bit to the text.
I’d wear the same shirt as yesterday if that would make the hug more tolerable.
There. It was sent. No taking backsies.
Adam replied by the time I poured coffee into my to-go mug.
I’m just downstairs, so if you haven’t left for your errands yet, I suggest you come down here and give me that hug. With or without the shirt.
I smiled like a fool and felt heat bleeding across my cheeks. The effect he had on me was dangerous. He made me forget everything else.
The shirt stayed in my hamper, though. I was showered, dressed, and ready to go to Elise’s shop. Adam would have to deal with my winter clothes.
Before I left, I donned a knitted beanie and threw my coat over my arm, and then I took the elevator down. My coffee was slowly waking me up for my walk. I’d borrow Adam’s truck, but it was only two blocks. I could use the exercise. It was one of the reasons I’d never gotten my own car. Everything in Cedar Valley where we lived was within walkable distance.
Adam was alone in the restaurant, and he’d been working up a sweat. He was too hot for his own good, standing there by the grill in only jeans and a wife-beater, country rock pouring out, a towel thrown over his shoulder, and always a baseball cap on backward.
I wanted to lick every inch of him.
Dio.
“Morning,” I said lightly and walked behind the bar.
He turned to me and gave me a quick once-over before a sly little smirk took over.
“Hoping for the shirt?” I joked.
“Maybe.” He smiled and wiped his hands on the towel. “But unless I’m mistaken, that little blouse thing can be unbuttoned too.”
I exhaled a small laugh. He’d never given me this kind of attention before, not this blatantly. Now I couldn’t be sure if he was kidding. It didn’t feel like it.
I prayed it wasn’t wishful thinking.
“Where’s my attack hug?” he asked.
I grinned and rolled my eyes, then put down my coat and coffee on the counter. “Right here, my goofball.” I quickly snuck into his embrace and locked my arms around his middle, where I was assaulted by the smell of all Adam, his deodorant, and food.
He tightened his hold on me, his scruffy cheek touching my temple.
I took a deep breath and let his presence steal me away.
“I don’t feel attacked,” he murmured.
I giggled and inched back enough to peer up at him. Big fat mistake. His hotness took my breath away, and the air around us suddenly felt charged.
His gaze changed before my eyes. Humor faded, and his brow furrowed as if he was trying to figure something out.
All this couldn’t be wishful thinking.
“I, um…” I swallowed against the dryness in my throat. Completely trapped in his stare. “I should get to Elise.”
He nodded slowly, and for the briefest moment, his eyes dropped to my mouth.
Fuck me.
Hope surged to life in a blaze of fire.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, his hands leaving my back, traveling unhurriedly to my hips. “Don’t be late today.”
I was never late. “I won’t. I’m-I’m meeting up with my aunt for lunch at two. That’s all.”
“All right.” He swallowed and nodded once, then released me—way before I was ready.
There was something else I was ready for, though. Coming clean. I didn’t think I could wait until after the holiday rush at the restaurant.
“Be hungry when you get home,” he ordered.
Yes, Chef.
* * *
Elise Quinn had the cutest shop where everyone could feel like a princess. Black-and-white-checkered floors met pastel green walls, retro glass counters, and fresh flowers at the only two tables by the windows. And she had a similar shop right next door, similar theme, just with pink walls instead of green. Her eldest daughter, an adorable little girl, had picked the wall colors.
