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“So, what happened? Obviously you two aren’t dating now.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I think we sort of unofficially started dating. First, we cooked at his friend’s cabin a lot. Then it was at my place. Then we were talking all the time. And then we’d kiss some, but it never went much past that.”
“So innocent,” Paisley laughs.
I grin. “Yeah. But I started to worry I was going to choose him over my dreams. I started feeling this pull to drop everything for him. To just be a girlfriend. An accessory,” I add with a twist of my lips.
“Not so bad, if you ask me,” Paisley says.
“It sounded like a cold, depressing death, to me. And I decided to act before it got any more hold over me. There was an opening in a culinary school in New York. I signed up, broke things off with him, and moved. I changed my phone number and completely cut contact.”
“Wow,” Paisley breathes. “Just like that?”
“Yep,” I say, skipping over the ugly crying, frantic nights of talking myself out of calling his number and apologizing or at least trying to explain where I was coming from. “Just like that,” I say.
“Well,” Paisley says. “That is kind of badass. You really didn’t let anything get in your way. But can I admit something?”
“Sure.”
“I’m kinda relieved Mr. Saulters is only here during the offseason. I get so nervous when he’s in the kitchen. He’s so hot it honestly kind of freaks me out a little.”
“Who freaks you out?” A deep voice asks. “I’ll ask him to leave.”
Nolan is standing in the kitchen now, arms crossed.
“Umm,” Paisley says, going bright red.
“Mind giving us a minute, Paisley?” Nolan asks.
Paisley doesn’t hesitate. She’s like a rabbit right after a gun goes off–dashing out of the kitchen towards the dining room, where the servers are all talking with Zander about something.
“Is someone bothering you two?” he asks.
I can’t help grinning. “We were talking about you. And I don’t want to inflate your ego, so I’m not going into any more detail than that.”
“Oh,” he says, looking relieved. “Let me finish up for you.” He reaches to take the plastic wrap from me.
“I’m fine, Nolan. But thanks.”
He leans back, crossing his arms. “If you’re better already, that means I have to start being an asshole again. You sure you’re feeling better?”
I smile to myself, then put a hand on my lower back and groan. “I don’t know. Maybe I do feel another wave of cramps coming along.”
“Sit, then.” Without waiting, he puts a hand on either side of my waist and lifts me, gently setting my ass down on the prep table. “You stay there and I’ll finish your closing work.”
I bite my lip. There’s no way I’ll ever admit it, but the way he just lifted me like I weighed nothing was insanely hot. I remind myself that Nolan prefers to pamper me right now, whether I need the help or not. I’m just doing the nice thing for a guy who had to go through hard times when he was younger. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the fact that I might be enjoying the princess treatment. Just a bit.
“So,” I say. “What happens when the season starts again?” I ask the question innocently enough. On the surface, I’m asking about the restaurant and Nolan. Beneath that, I’m wondering if we’re going to go back to being strangers once his season starts again.
“I go back to play for the team. The restaurant goes on. I’ll stop by Frosty Harbor when our schedule allows to check on things, I guess. But the idea was always to set up something that can run on its own.”
“And that’s enough for you?”
He’s twisting pastries in plastic wrap, but he stops to look over his shoulder at me. “What does that mean?”
“I just mean… before,” I say, using that dangerous word I seem to be avoiding. “I almost thought you would be happier if you were out of the league and following your passion for cooking full time. I thought maybe you were going to tell people this was your last season once I heard you were the one who was opening Taste.”
He sets the pastry down, not moving for a few moments. Then he shakes his head. “Nah. The team needs me, and I’m not going to abandon them.”
