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“I thought you looked like you needed to talk. So I told him you wanted to talk. And that you’d try to say you never asked to talk. He seemed excited, almost. So go talk to him!”
“I could kill you right now,” I hiss.
“In front of a pregnant woman?” Caroline puts her fingertips to her chest in show of mock scandal.
“I could handle blood,” Andi says. “I mean, think about it. We’re way more seasoned in the art of blood than men. And Caroline’s death blood would be way less gross than period blood. So if you want to kill her, don’t let me stop you.”
“She’s lucky,” I say. “I don’t have enough work clothes, so I can’t afford to ruin this uniform with Caroline’s ‘death blood’.” I give Caroline one last dirty look before heading to the door. I pause with my fingers on the handle, take a deep breath, then pull it open and close it behind me.
“Hey,” Nolan says.
“Hi. I’m sorry, but I really didn’t ask Caroline to send you to talk to me. She’s just meddling.”
“It’s alright,” Nolan says. There’s something in his body language that reminds me more of those first few days at the cabin–back when I thought all he wanted was to sleep with me then be on his way. “I figured you could use some space, so I was trying to give it to you.”
“That was considerate of you,” I say carefully.
Our words are clipped and the silences drag just a little too long. I could scoop the awkward tension from the air and spread it on toast right now, but I can’t seem to bring myself to go back inside, either.
“Here,” he says, shrugging off his big coat and wrapping it around my shoulders. It hangs past my knees and the sleeves are draped over me.
I hope it’s not obvious how deeply I breathe in through my nose, because the scent of him is all over it and it’s overwhelming, like warm fingers reaching beneath my clothes and trailing down my skin.
His lips curve up and he reaches out for the zipper, putting his hands dangerously close to me as he connects it and pulls up, closing me into the jacket. He cocks his head, then pulls the hood up and his smile widens. “You look cute. Warm enough?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I say. It feels like I should have words ready to come pouring out of me. I’ve spent two weeks trying and failing not to constantly think about him. About us. And yet I’m finally here standing in front of him and there’s just nothing in my brain.
He is still standing a little too close to me after helping me with the jacket, but he doesn’t move to step away from me. “I’ve been thinking about you more than I’d like, Mia.”
“You have?” I breathe. I’m not sure why I can’t seem to play it even a little bit cool. Couldn’t I say something sassy like, “Oh yeah? That makes one of us.”
He idly thumbs the zipper on the jacket for a moment before lifting his eyes to mine. “I’ve been thinking about a lot of things.” Now the corner of his mouth is curving upward slightly and there’s fresh heat behind his gaze. “Have you ever watched a cooking video and seen some rare and exotic ingredient being used in a dish? Something you know you’ll probably never get a chance to taste?”
“Like Beluga caviar or an a-5 Wagyu steak? Yeah, I mean, I guess I…” I trail off because he’s grinning wider and shaking his head at me as if I’m not getting it.
“What about when you were little? Your mom is baking cookies in the kitchen. The whole house smells like brown sugar and butter. You sneak into the kitchen and see them fresh out of the oven, but she tells you they’re off-limits. She’s taking them to a work event, and there’s some boxed cookies in the pantry if you’re hungry.”
“My mom never baked,” I say, utterly confused about where he’s going with all this.
“Mine did,” he says almost sadly, then bites his lip and seems to snap out of the moment. “You’re like those cookies, Mia. I just really, really want a taste. And the longer I go without it, the more I seem to want it.”
“Nolan…” I whisper his name, not sure what argument I can make, exactly. “I’m putting all of myself into this job. It’s my dream. Dating you would put everything I’ve been working towards in jeopardy and I can’t do that.”
“Nobody said anything about dating, Mia.” He’s smiling like I’m being naive. He watches my lips as he licks his, then bites his bottom lip again. “I’m talking about kissing you. Maybe fucking you,” he adds, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I’m asking for a cookie, not the recipe. Get it?” he asks, as if his confusing metaphor makes all the sense in the world and explains everything.
“No,” I breathe, laughing a little and taking a step backwards. I thump softly against the door, breath escaping me in a quiet grunt. “I don’t… That’s–”
He steps closer again, staying inside my space. “Tell me you aren’t tempted with a straight face and I’ll walk away and never bother you again.” He whispers the words in my ear like a dare.
“I’m not tempted,” I say, voice quivering as I’m unable to even meet his eyes.
He tilts his chin up and looks down at me, lips curved in amusement. “Liar.”
I close my eyes, trying to summon acting abilities I don’t have. “I’m not tempted by you.”
He brings his mouth to my ear, voice tickling my skin with heat. “Liar.”
“Okay,” I snap. “But what difference does it make? People get tempted all the time and don’t act on it. I’m here for Taste. I’m here to make a career and chase my dream, not to screw around with the guy who owns the restaurant and bring my character into question with all the people I care about.”
