Page 21 of Holding Out for a Gyro
Slowly, she settled back onto the stool. “For the record, if anything, the list was an excuse to say yes to your cooking, not the other way around. I probably could have bought this from out front.”
Not likely, but I wasn’t going to argue the point.
“If I’d had more notice, I promise it would have been much better.”
“Better than that? I might have to let you do this again sometime.”
I raised my eyes to say a silent thanks to the universe. “Tell me what else is on your list. Maybe I can help you check another one off.”
“Well. Probably not, unless you run a local writing group.”
“Let me see it again.”
She slid her phone over, and I immediately saw a couple of ways I could turn her list to my own benefit. “Well, for starters, you could let me have your phone number.”
“Nice try.” She laughed.
“If you want to spend a day eating vegan, I can fix you up.”
“Maybe. I’ll let you know.” She slid off the stool. “Thanks for dinner, Bas. It was a treat.”
I wasn’t ready to part ways so soon, but I’d gotten further than I could realistically hope, so I stood as well. “Didn’t we make a bet? Dinner for your phone number?” I swallowed. It was a long shot.
Her eyes closed, opened, and her mouth flattened into anapologetic frown. For a second, I thought she was going to say no, but then she surprised me by reaching for a Sharpie and writing her number on some stray wrapper. “Use it wisely.”
I would.
There’s a Greek saying.The unripe grape becomes sweet like honey—slowly.
I wasn’t in any hurry, but I added that number to my contacts the minute Chelsea walked out the door.
Chapter Five
Chelsea
Challenge: Spend a day eating vegan
On the following Thursday, as Elizabeth and I were walking toward the downtown mall together, my phone buzzed. Her new job had weird noon-to-midnight hours, so she was trying to squeeze in her editing work in the morning at the library.
She’d been monologuing since we left her house. “I’m way behind on deadline for that book on Proust. I didn’t think this job would take any more time than bartending had, but I’m exhausted in a way I didn’t anticipate.”
“Hold up.” I stopped to read a text from an unknown number.
I’ve got an idea for how to help you with the list.
Can I bring you something?
I stared at it, deciphering it for a long moment before I connected the dots. I hadn’t added Bas’s number to my contacts back when he’d scrawled it on a Post-it in his kitchen, and when he hadn’t called me in nearly a week, I’d sort of decided he’d lost interest after all.
“The eagle has landed,” I said.
Elizabeth craned her neck to read. “Wow. I can’t believe you gave him your number. Are you going to tell him where you live, too?”
“Ha.” There was no way I would tell some guy where I lived. I was nowhere near that trusting. How can you cut someone dangerous out of your life if they know where to find you?
Still. The dinner Bas had cooked me had been one of the most delicious meals I’d had in recent memory. And the company had been surprisingly entertaining. He’d charmed or stunned me into giving away a state secret. I instantly regretted giving him my number and braced myself for a barrage ofu up?texts, but he’d shown serious restraint. Or maybe he really didn’t care either way.
Now I was intrigued by what he might want to bring me.
