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“I’m not sure Henrique will agree,” I say.
“I’ll convince him.”
I grab a blue mug, lining it up with the other blue mugs on the shelf so they’re organized by color. Lucas’s eyes flick to the color-coded mugs.
“This is why I need you,” he says, pointing to my color-coordinated system. “You have an ability to see how things should be organized.”
“Thanks, but I’m not working for Henrique.”
“You won’t work for Henrique. You’ll work for me.” He has an urgent edge to his tone.
“How?”
“Maybe if I convinced him you were someone important to me. A person he can’t fire.” He looks around the room like he’s searching for clues. His gaze lands on a picture of Jadyn with her boyfriend. “Like my girlfriend. He couldn’t fire you, then.”
I give him a quick look. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Why would I be?”
The thought of pretending to be Lucas’s girlfriend sends a shot of exhilarating warmth through me before my rational brain overrides my teenage fantasy.
“It’s a terrible idea,” I say. “It’s not like we were dating when he fired me.”
“I’ll tell him we just started dating and wanted to keep it a secret.”
I shake my head, still unconvinced. “I’m not your type. He’ll see that right away.”
“What’s my type?” he asks, his lips curling up.
I shrug. “A tall, blonde Barbie.” All the things I’m not. I’m not going to tell him the truth: that most guys are put off by my OCD.
“I like auburn hair,” he murmurs in this low sexy voice, his eyes gazing down my auburn shoulder-length waves.
It’s entirely coincidental. He’s making this up to get me to say yes to his ridiculous idea.
“And height doesn’t matter,” he adds. Which is good, because I’m petite. It almost gives me hope.
He continues in that low rumbly voice, “This can be a temporary arrangement. Just say the word and we’ll stop.”
But I don’t want to stop.
He leans across the table and I want to fall into his striking blue eyes. “Jadyn told me how much you need this job. And I need someone to help me in the kitchen. If I don’t find a solution soon, Henrique’s going to eventually replace me with someone else.”
“He’d never replace you!” I argue. “He loves your cooking.”
“For now. But he loses interest in things quickly when he’s dissatisfied. I need a solution. And you have this talent of organizing things in an astounding way.”
His words hit on my raw spot. If I don’t tell him now, this little charade of ours could be a very bad mistake.
“It’s not a talent. My organizing abilities are due to OCD—obsessive compulsive disorder. This diagnosis is a blessing and a curse. But most people see it as a flaw.”
“I don’t. I think it’s your superpower.” Something stirs in his gaze, like he’s seeing me in a new way. “I can’t do this alone. Every good restaurant knows the secret to success: A chef is only as good as the staff around him. That’s why I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you in my kitchen.” He stops and gives me a boyish smile. “Even if it means dating you.”
I lean back against the counter, my heart bumping against my chest. There are worse things than pretending to date the most handsome chef in the city. Still, I’m wary about it. There are too many possibilities for it to all crash down.
“What if someone finds out?” I whisper, suddenly realizing Jadyn is only a few steps away.
“You mean Jadyn?” He lowers his voice. “She seems trustworthy. But everyone else can’t find out, okay?”
