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I looked at the ingredients he set out into three categories, oil, acid and seasoning, and grabbed what I needed. “What about you, why did you become a chef?”
“Feeding five kids plus Dad was a big task, and we used to take turns doing it with a range of outcomes, from burnt, to call the fire department. My food was always the best, so Cenzo redid the chore list so that my only responsibility was cooking. Well, and grocery shopping, except during football season.”
I let out a grunt while I whisked. “Of course you played football. Quarterback?”
“Nah, that was Cal. I played wide receiver.” Antonio let out another loud laugh at the blank look on my face. “Not a football fan?”
“Nope. How’d I do?”
He examined the bowl first and then stuck a finger in to scoop some up, and sweet lord the way he licked his finger sent my poor libido into overdrive. “Delicious.”
“Cool. I’m sure I can remember oil, acid and seasonings.”
“If you forget, I’m just a phone call away.” He smiled as if he knew I wanted to say something smart ass back to him and continued on. “Next is the ultimate salad dressing. Ranch.” He gave me a recipe and tips to make my second favorite dressing at home. “A lot healthier than the store bought stuff, just from the lack of added preservatives alone. Much cheaper too.”
I didn’t know how he knew to avoid all the trigger words, like calorie friendly and less sugar, but it was a relief. Maybe I’ll actually lose those final fifteen from nursing school without all the perceived judgement from outside sources. “You’re helping me to understand a ton Antonio, I might have to start liking you.”
He shook his head and leaned across the counter that separated us. “You already like me, Augusta. You just don’t want to.”
I could have denied it, but Antonio Ricci was more than just a pretty face, in fact he was pretty damn astute, so I shrugged. “True. But you’re trouble, and I’m not in the market for trouble right now. It’s nothing personal,” I added, even though you couldn’t really say something like that to someone without it being personal.
“Trouble?” His tone was surprised, as if no one had ever told him he was the walking talking definition of the word.
I nodded and whipped up a tahini and ginger dressing with a proud smile as I held it out to him. “Yeah, the kind of trouble that usually ends with too much chocolate ice cream and red wine. Heartbreak.”
“I don’t break hearts,” he insisted with a sincerity that was as funny as it was sad.
“Of course you do, even if you don’t mean to.” That was the problem with men like Antonio, they were nice guys, likable men who were charming and sexy and even sweet at times, so much so that you forgot that you’re not supposed to fall for them. Then you do, and it’s too late to turn back. “You clearly don’t trust women, and I’m not in the market for a casual fling.”
“What’s wrong with having a casual fling?”
“Nothing at all. I’ve had a few in my life, enough to know that I can’t do casual. I can’t just have sex with someone when it doesn’t mean anything.” I tried, three times to be exact, and each time I found myself crying into a bucket of ice cream and wetting my throat with copious amounts of wine.
Antonio rounded the counter between us and took the bowl from my hands before he gripped my shoulders and turned me so we faced each other. His brown eyes were dark and intense. “There’s no such thing as meaningless sex. The meaning is pleasure, Augusta. Yours. Mine. Our collective pleasure. That’s the point. At least for me, it is.”
I let out a shaky breath at his words and the hunger in his voice, and I had to take a step back to get a moment of relief. “I can’t Antonio.”
“Not yet, but you will.” It was an ominous prediction that felt more like a promise.
And what was worse? I had a feeling he was right.
Antonio
“I like to swing high, Daddy. Really, really high!”
Rosie bounced along the sidewalk beside me, a bright smile on her face from an hour spent at the park after a morning of arts and crafts at the community center. As much as everyone told me I needed to give my little girl some freedom, I was determined to get her involved in as many relaxing activities as possible. Like arts and crafts. And sewing. And even learning how to do makeup.
That’s how desperate I was.
“I noticed. You’re the reason my muscles stay so big, all that pushing.” I flexed and made funny faces, letting her giggles wash over me.
“I feel like I’m flying!”
