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Sam poured wine into our glasses. Then raised his glass. “How about a toast to our friendship.”
“Cheers to us.” And we clinked our glasses and sipped on wine.
Eager to finally satisfy my rumbling stomach, I didn’t waste a second more to indulge in that fresh meal. Hmm, it was heavenly. The meat was cooked to perfection. Seared on the outside, juicy on the inside.
I only managed to eat a little more than half the steak and a third of the veggies when I lowered my fork. Stomach full. “Well done, chef. Double points to you for this delicious dinner. Can’t say I can reciprocate the gesture. Ever.”
“So, you truly have no idea how to cook?” Sam was surprised.
“Never had time to learn, I guess.”
“I could give you some pointers. Turn the hopeless-cook Lucille into a commis chef Lucille.”
I sipped on my wine. “Why do you call me Lucille?”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“I’ve gone by Lucy all my life. Not even my father ever called me that.”
Sam popped the last piece of his meat into his mouth. Took his time to chew on it slowly as he settled back in his chair. Then he wiped his lips with the corner of a napkin. An innocent gesture but still, I watched him. Not too friendly of me, probably. “Your name means light. I think it’s the perfect name for you. You light up every room you’re in with all your bright colours – your clothes, your designs, your rainbow coffee mug. Add that to the fact that it’s a sexier name than Lucy.” He concluded with a wink.
Didthatqualify as friendly?
“Is that why you call me sunshine?”
“Mhm.” Sam rose from his seat, his empty plate in hand. Picked my plate too.
“Let me help. I’ll clean.”
“Nonsense. Just stay there. You’re a guest here.”
I obeyed his command as Sam rolled up his sweater’s sleeves before opening the dishwasher’s door and began sorting the dirty plates, cutlery and pans inside. Then he opened a cabinet to retrieve a cloth and scrubbed over the counters he prepped on earlier. He was way too attentive to clean every spot rigorously.
Wow, this man kept on surprising me and I can’t help but stare. I should have been the nice guest who insisted on helping the host clean up. But there I stayed, nearly drooling over my wine glass. Totally not friendly to spy on him like that.
Sam came over with the cloth to wipe the dining table. It was spotless already but he polished the glass tabletop eitherway.
I averted my eyes away from the distractingly attractive vein on his forearm bulging with each back and forth gesture he did with that cloth. “So you’re a clean freak, huh.”
“Just a very tidy person. When I was a student, my parents wanted me to earn my own spending money so I worked a few mundane jobs, usually as a kitchen hand. I guess I got used to keeping clean that I kept up the habit.”
“My first job was as a bartender.”
Sam stopped his chore. His brows furrowed in flabbergast. “At sixteen?”
How did he know that? Oh, right. Forgot I had mentioned dropping out of school to him before.
“I looked older for my age. Plus, I added on a year or two with some make-up and wore push-up bras and mini skirts. I dressed the part well.”
“But did you know how to actually tend a bar?”
“When I started, I couldn’t even fill a beer keg from the tap without overflowing it. But now I can make the meanest cocktail.” I looked over my shoulder to point at the bar behind me. “May I?”
“Go ahead. Just don’t do any juggling tricks with bottles and stuff. I’d hate it if you make a mess.”
Like a happy girl on the way to open her birthday presents, I skipped to the bar, rubbing my palms together in excitement.
Suddenly the ceiling lights dimmed. Sam’s doing.
