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I place my hands on her lower back, holding her loosely in my arms. “No, I didn’t. But you go out of your way to please me, and I really appreciate it.”
She curls her hands over my shoulders, her fingertips kneading my muscles. “I like feeding you.”
I smile. “I can tell.”
Her gaze lowering to my chest, she slides one hand down over my heart. Can she feel it beating for her and only her?
A glimpse of unease darts across her face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, cupping her cheek.
Her green, worry-filled eyes affix to mine. “This situation… us… it’s really… complicated.”
“I agree our situation is a bit unorthodox, but I don’t think our feelings are complicated. At least mine aren’t. I’m crazy about you.”
All the signs of worry dissipate from her face as she smiles. “I guess it’s convenient that I’m also crazy about you.”
I smile back at her, wondering if it’s possible for my heart to burst from being too full of happiness. “Maybe we should stop worrying about all the outside influences in our lives and focus on the two of us. I like you. You like me. It doesn’t matter who your brother is or who my teammate is. I want to be with you. I want you to be my girlfriend.”
“What about me working for you?”
“What about it? It’s not an issue for me. If you weren’t my chef, I’d see a lot less of you,” I say.
She wrinkles her nose. “I know, but I don’t feel right taking money from you now that feelings are involved.”
“How about you stick it out through the summer and then you can reevaluate.”
She nods. “Okay. I can do that. What do we do about Darius?”
“I thought we weren’t going to worry about him.”
“If I’m going to be your girlfriend, he’s going to find out about us.”
“Are you going to be my girlfriend? You never answered me,” I say.
“You never asked me. For your information, telling someone you want something isn’t the same as asking.”
“Touché.” She’s right. I got ahead of myself. “Calista Kastellanos, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”
“Yes, I will.”
I press my lips to hers, sealing it with a kiss. I pull back, smiling down at her. “You won’t regret it.”
“You better not make me.”
“Note to self: don’t piss off the woman cooking your food,” I say, and she laughs.
She pushes out of my arms. “Oh shit. I forgot about the kabobs. You’re too distracting.” She turns the skewers. “You’re lucky they’re not overcooked.”
“I’m sure they’d be delicious regardless. Will you do me a huge favor?” I ask.
“What?”
“Will you eat dinner with my family and me?”
“If you want me to.” She surprises me by agreeing so quickly.
“I do. I want them to get to know you. We don’t have to hide our feelings around them.”
