Page 19 of Holding Out for a Gyro
He grinned, the bastard. “Would you like to share it with me?”
“I thought it was for your brother.”
“Right.” He reached back and grabbed a second. “How about I bet you dinner that you’ll give me your phone number?”
I choked on a laugh. “Is this one of your terrible pickup lines?”
His goofy smile came out. “Wouldn’t you like to see where all that food gets prepared?”
God, I would. “You’d cook for me at the market?”
“I’d cook for you anywhere.”
That little flattery should have made me bolt, but there was something disarming about his lopsided grin. Like his pickup lines were half joke and he’d shrug it off if I said no. Elizabeth would be beside herself with pride if I said yes. Plus, it wouldearn me a point. How could I pass up this rare opportunity?
“Lead on.”
“Really?” He pressed his lips together, smothering a smile that threatened to break free. It was so endearing, it made me question my sanity.
But New Chelsea took a deep breath and nodded. “Show me what you’ve got, Stavros.”
Chapter Four
Basil
Challenge: Let someone cook you dinner
I second-guessed myself as we entered the market. Not only because Gretchen at the cash register shot me a curious glance, and I had to hope she wouldn’t go narking on me to my manager, Ryan. I should have been at home, cleaning up before Evan arrived sometime this weekend. He’d called to tell me he’d accepted the job, and I’d offered him my sofa until he could find his own place.
But I wasn’t going to ignore a sign from the universe.
For the past two weeks, I’d been trying not to think about a girl who didn’t want to be thought of.
I’d replayed that Friday night in my head a hundred times, picking apart the mixed messages she’d sent, how she’d given in to her attraction, held me like she was coming up for air, all while cutting off every avenue to pursue anything more serious.
It had driven me crazy that she didn’t want to give me her number, but I wasn’t going to stalk a girl who wasn’t feeling it. Since she knew where to find me, after that first week with no contact, I figured the universe had spoken. Only then did she turn up at the cash register of a coffee shop I frequented. But since she looked at me like she didn’t recognize me, I told the universe to make up its mind. And then there she was at the wine cellar, in those jeans that hugged her hips, that ink-black hair cascading in waves I remembered twisting around my finger. Although she was only a few feet away, I couldn’t fathom how I’dever get that close to her again.
Go home, universe. You’re drunk.
Maybe I was a glutton for punishment, but the way Chelsea glowed just thinking about my food, I needed to feed her, needed live reactions from a real human. It didn’t hurt that she looked so sexy when her tongue dragged across her lips.
In the kitchen, Chelsea waited with one hand on her hip. Her stiff stance reminded me of that Friday night when I’d handed her my phone number, and she’d looked at me like I’d offered her a porcupine, like that was too far out of her comfort zone. Lucky for me, we were in my realm now, and I let my training take over.
“Sit.”
She perched on a stool at the prep table, and I opened one of the bottles I’d just bought. As I set a glass next to her and began to pour, I asked, “What did the grape say when it got crushed?”
Her forehead wrinkled. “Uh. What?”
“Nothing, it just let out a little wine.”
She blinked at me a couple of times before she got that pained look on her face that made me know I’d landed a terrible pun. “That’s awful.”
In the walk-in fridge, I found a few of the soft-shell crabs and a pint of goat cheese risotto. I scooped risotto into a pan to warm up. “Everyone knows at least one joke. What’ve you got?”
She twisted her mouth for a second. “Okay, but this is Elizabeth’s.”
I waggled my fingers. “Can you hand me that bowl?”
