Page 9 of Dirty Chef
“You know how easy men are, hon,” Isla told me. “If the attraction is there, it doesn’t take much for them to lose it. Hell, I seduced Jack with pajama shorts and some cleavage.”
I kept shaking my head, feeling utterly mindfucked. I didn’t believe her. Or Jack. Not that they’d said anything outright, but the hints were plenty. Plenty bullshit.
“Listen, you two live together,” Isla said. “Which—how long have you done that, by the way?”
I squinted as I did the math. “We had to take out a loan to renovate the kitchen at the restaurant like, four years ago. So to cut expenses, we sort of suggested at the same time that we could share my apartment. He’d had a tiny studio, and I refused to spend more than an hour there.”
She chuckled. “Okay. So, four years. Is it really weird if you just try something new—something subtle? Like, use a smaller towel around your body when you leave the bathroom.”
“We have private baths in our rooms,” I pointed out. This was still too much to process.
Isla took on a curious expression. One that smelled like trouble. “How much skin do you show at home? What’re your comfy clothes like?”
“Oh, I don’t reveal much.” I shook my head vehemently. “You haven’t met any of the women Adam’s dated. They never hang around for long, but most of them have visited the restaurant when he worked, and they’re all tens. I think he picks them up in model school, if there’s such a thing.”
“And you’re a twelve, but whatever.” She tried to reach her decaf iced tea I’d brought her, and it wasn’t working very well. I gave it to her and studiously ignored what she’d said. I was comfortable with who I was; my fifteen or twenty extra pounds were Adam’s food, and I couldn’t say no to that. “It’s funny, though,” Isla mused. “You’ve lived together for years, and you’ve never seen each other naked?”
I spluttered. “What the fuck? No? I never saw my dormmate in college naked either. Why would we? I wake up in the morning and get dressed in yoga pants and a T-shirt—or after my shower… I mean, like I said, my bathroom’s in my bedroom. And when it wasn’t, I just put on clothes in the bathroom.”
Isla hummed. “Does Adam do that too?”
“Pshhh!” I laughed and waved a hand. “That man has no shame. I’ve never seen him naked, but he’ll walk around in his boxers sometimes. But then, he has the body for it.” In his twenties, he’d been a Greek god. Age had tampered with that in the sexiest ways. He was stockier now and had more meat on his bones, which, in my opinion, was much hotter than washboard abs.
“Or maybe he’s showing you what he’s got.” Isla winked.
“I wish he wouldn’t.” I widened my eyes. “He flusters me too easily.”
Isla laughed, only to wince and press a hand to her belly. “Fuck. If they could stop playing soccer with my bladder, I’d appreciate it.”
I grinned and rose from the couch. “I’ll help you up. Then when you get back, I wanna talk about your family instead. Are they all back from Florida yet?”
She grunted as I helped her off the couch. “I’d rather discuss how you’re going to seduce Adam by walking around in a top and panties.”
I would never.
I think.
No, it was crazy.
Right?
* * *
“Jesus Christ, I’m tired,” Adam yawned as he came out from his bedroom. Isla popped into my head when I noticed he was only wearing a towel around his hips. There was a noticeable bump where his c— “You wanna watch a movie before bed?”
I snapped my gaze upward and fruitlessly willed my blush to fuck off. “I, uh…it’s late. Shouldn’t you sleep?” I distracted myself by opening the fridge to raid it for leftovers. We’d worked nonstop since noon; Adam was in the middle of planning the spring menu, I’d been clearing the leaves and weeds from the courtyard, and then we’d had a full restaurant most of the evening. It was almost midnight. I just wanted a quick bite to eat and then crash.
“We can sleep in tomorrow,” Adam said and threw himself on the couch. “C’mon, it’s been ages since we just chilled together.”
I released a breath and peered down at the clothes I’d put on after my own shower. Cazzo, I was letting Isla’s words get into my head. No, sweatpants and a T-shirt wouldn’t seduce anyone, but what did that matter when there was no one to seduce? She was nuts.
After putting together two chicken sandwiches and grabbing a couple sodas, I reluctantly joined Adam on the couch where he was scrolling through the selection on Netflix.
This was his version of Netflix and chill. Watching a movie with his homely gal pal.
