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“I guess I’ll try it.” I climb onto the stool by the island, and he pushes the plate toward me. He leans down and pulls out a tray from the oven. So that’s the bakery scent filling the house.
“I reheated the baguette.”
He transfers a few slices to my plate. It’s grilled with cheese on top, and when I take a bite, I moan.
“It’s like a fresh one.”
“Yeah, you need to pat it with water so the oven doesn’t dry it out, but it makes it crunchy.”
“How do you know that?” I take another bite, even the slightly burned eggs are scrumptious.
“I told you I picked up a few tricks from my keepers.” He shrugs and swallows a spoonful. “My granny used to make it that way.”
His phone chimes and he looks at it. “The car will be here in twenty minutes. Are you ready to leave?”
“Oh, I couldn’t get out of here fast enough.”
He studies me again, the silence stretching between us. I forget the tasty breakfast, trying not to fidget under his stare. Why does he have to make things worse? After last night, he could either pretend it didn’t happen or at least try to make things less awkward.
A clock ticks somewhere in the house. A truck roars in the distance outside. My heart thumps in my ears. I swallow around the lump in my throat. If he is waiting for me to say something, he’s crazy.
“Let me do the dishes.” I collect the plates and put all my frustration into the task. It’s hard with Gio’s eyes following me like a hawk. Goddammit.
I finish and leave the kitchen. Collecting my bag, I make my way to the veranda and sit down, letting the shy winter sun warm my skin. My private moment doesn’t last long because Gio comes out.
He bores his eyes into me again, and this stupid staring contest is getting tiresome. Though I guess nothing is pleasing after a sleepless night. I’m cranky and dejected, and he’s the only person I can channel my feelings at. And the only reason for them, frankly.
Danita comes over and we thank her for the hospitality, and shortly after a limo pulls up. A limo. For fuck’s sake. At least I can sit as far as possible from him.
The drive isn’t long, but it fills with pent-up energy. Or perhaps it’s just me, because Gio keeps working on his phone or his tablet without lifting an eye.
I have only myself to blame. My strange infatuation with this man sprang out of nowhere. Just because he was nice to me. Kind of. Because he told me I’m good at my job. Because he shared a few private moments with me.
Can I be any more naïve? I never thought I was, but here we are. This man draws something from me that is needy, and frankly not very appealing.
“How many hours a day do you spend on the screen?” I challenge him.
“As many as needed.” His focus remains on the phone.
“Interesting you don’t wear glasses yet.”
He lifts his eyebrow, giving me a disapproving look, and returns to his work.
“I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to function without it. You’re addicted.” I’m not even sure why I’m pursuing the topic. It’s not like I don’t spend godless hours on the screen. It’s my job, after all.
I just want to rile him up, as pitiful as that may be. I’m tired, which leads to being less than mature.
“Thank you for your unsolicited diagnosis. I can function without the screen. I choose not to. I like my work, and I care little for small talk,” he deadpans.
Argh! Here I thought he felt bad about last night, but I was wrong. He’s just his usual self. The few glimpses I got earlier were a fluke. Or wishful thinking on my part.
“I challenge you to go without it over the Christmas break.” I truly don’t know why I care or insist on this.
He looks up. “And why would I want to do that?”
“To win a dare?” I shrug.
He licks his lip, his eyes tightening at the corners. I’m sitting in the far corner of the car, but I can see his jaw tick. “What would I win?”
