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“Guilty as charged, but only partially. I may have finished a jar or two of Hatch green chile in my lifetime. Maybe more,” I reply as Phil excuses himself and leaves. At least, the guy can take a hint.
“Really?” Claudia doesn’t look convinced.
“Burritos smothered in green chile sauce, for one. Have you had one?” I ask as her eyes narrow even more. “I’ve put them on fried eggs and hash browns. Hamburger steaks, too. And don’t forget stew.”
She crosses her arms in front of her. “I don’t believe you.”
I think for a few moments, remembering the last time I made it for the guys two years earlier. Nothing like the good old days. “Diced potatoes, cooked hamburger meat, stewed tomatoes, white corn kernels, onions, garlic, and green chile. Start by sautéing the—”
Claudia holds up her hands, laughing. “Alright, I believe you. Anyone who can break down the ingredients for green chile stew has got to know what he’s talking about.”
“Because Iknowwhat I’m talking about.” I grab a handful of tortilla chips and deposit them on my plate. “I can’t believe you’ve got me defending my honor. Me, the resident chef of my team.”
“You should have brought a dish then.”
I laugh. “Nah, I’m shallow. I only came here to talk to you.” When Claudia blushes and looks away, I add, “I’m sorry if I interrupted your conversation with Phil.”
She giggles. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re right. Sorry not sorry.”
She smiles. “I’ve always liked your honesty.”
“It’s how I roll, baby.” I grab a few more chips and follow her toward one of the tables. “The first time we met, you said you were only here for two or three days. Did you ever get to explore Virginia Beach?”
She shakes her head as I pull up a chair for her and she sits down. “Leigh and I had to deal with our hangovers the next day, so we spent it watching movies and chatting. And then I had to drive back the next day.”
“That sucks,” I say. “Have you been to the Boardwalk, at least?”
“Not yet.”
“I can take you around, if you want,” I say.
“I’d love that.”
“What about tomorrow?”
She chuckles. “You move fast.”
I glance at the group of people Claudia had been with before I came over. Phil is still glaring at me although he does his best not to look too obvious. “I have to. Phil has the hots for you.”
“He’s not my type.”
“What is your type?”
“Someone who doesn’t mind temporary hookups.” She laughs when she sees the surprised expression on my face. “Just kidding. Seriously, the last time I met my type, he never bothered to ask for my phone number.” She whispers that last part while I pretend to look shocked.
“What an asshole.”
She shrugs. “He had his reasons, I guess.”
“Is he still your type?”
“Maybe.” She studies me, her eyes narrowing. “Why do you ask?”
“What if this type of yours has been kicking himself for months for being an idiot and would want nothing more but to get your phone number now?”
Her eyes narrow. “Does he now?”
