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“That’s because I had my phone then. It was the possibility of contact and rescue. Now I have no lifeline.” I lifted my head and turned to look at her. “We’re going to die. We’re going to run out of air.”
She laughed. “No, we’re not. I promise. There’s ventilation in here. We should do something to keep ourselves distracted.”
“Have sex?” I asked, feeling hopeful. That would absolutely take
my mind off of suffocating.
Isla frowned. “No! I hope you’re joking.”
“Maybe. Not really.” I took a deep breath. “I mean, if I’m going to die, at least I’d go out happy.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to die and I’m not having sex with you in the cooler. The health board would have a field day with that. Besides, we’re not supposed to be having sex again.”
“Whose dumb-ass idea was that?” I asked, knowing the answer but not understanding why I would have ever thought that was a good idea.
“You know full well it was yours, genius. You got me out of your system, remember?”
It sounded even worse repeated back to me. “Yeah, about that. I was lying. I wanted to believe it, but even as I said it, I knew it was bullshit.” I took another deep breath. My heart wasn’t racing quite as fast. “I’m trying to convince myself that what happened wasn’t a big deal. But it was. You got under my skin.”
She smiled at me. “Like a splinter?”
I nodded, nudging her with my knee. “Something like that. I find you fascinating, whether you like it or not.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about it. I liked hating you. That was easy.”
“Come on, you didn’t really hate me after the elevator, did you?”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I hated you.”
“Ouch. For the record, I never hated you.” I hadn’t. She had irritated me, made me feel idiotic, and had gotten me hard as a rock, but I hadn’t hated her. “I also think you’re an amazing chef. You have a great future ahead of you.”
“You’re buttering me up for sex, aren’t you?” she asked, but she didn’t sound like she was serious.
“I will never try to get you naked with flattery. That’s for amateurs.” I stretched my legs out. “I’m serious. You can go as far as you want in this business. You’re smart, you’re confident, you know your techniques and flavors.”
“Thanks. You don’t totally suck either.”
I laughed. “You’ll never blow smoke up my ass, that’s for sure. Tell me why you decided to become a chef. I picture you being one of those kids who goes on a cooking competition and kicks ass.”
“No, I was never on a cooking competition. I used to cook with my parents. I was an only child and weekends were for the three of us making meals together in the kitchen.”
“That’s awesome. My parents didn’t cook. That’s why I got into it in high school. I was tired of takeout.” I made a face at her. “Poor rich city kid, huh? Nothing to eat but expensive takeout. That sounded really pretentious.”
“No, it didn’t. I can see how that would get to be old. Besides, you were probably curious to know what went into preparing all those takeout dishes.”
“I did. Where did you grow up?”
“New Jersey. Small town. Until I was fifteen.”
I waited but she didn’t elaborate. “Then where did you live?”
“The city. I came to live with my grandparents.” She hesitated, but then she added, “My parents passed away. Then my grandmother died and it was just me and Gus.”
Jesus. I turned to her. “God, Isla, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. I didn’t mean to pry.”
Her face was stoic. “Thanks. I’m not going to say it’s okay, because honestly, it’s really not. It never will be. But I have learned to live with it. I just miss them.”
“I bet. Is your grandfather still around?”
