My heart clutches. My throat feels suddenly thick. “So… with the life you have, the one you’re living right now, what’s the dream?”
“Right now.” He tips his head, narrows his eyes. “I’d say the dream is be a good dad and crank out this final cookbook I’m contracted to write, then figure out if I can ever work at the restaurant again without losing myself to it.” After a beat, he says, “I don’t know if I’m capable of dreaming without going too big, too hard.”
He slants a glance my way. “Don’t celebrity tease me right now, but you really didn’t know any of that? You didn’t google me?”
“I did, yes.”
He seems to brace himself. “And?”
“And I remembered the internet can be a dumpster fire of misinformation. I typed in your name, then immediately closed out of the browser before I could read a thing.”
“Why?” he asks.
“Because I didn’t want to learn the internet version of AlexBruscato. I wanted to learn this one, the real one, in front of me. You.” I lean in, wiggling my eyebrows. “Besides, it’s not every day you become IRL besties with a chef prodigy.”
He hollers, “I said no teasing!”
“You said nocelebrityteasing. And did I say that word? Besides just now,” I clarify.
He narrows his eyes at me, but he’s fighting a smile.
I pick up his dish, then stack it on mine. “Come on, Chef. I’ll clean up, and you can tell me more about your rise to fame.”
I’m wrapping up the dishes while Alex wipes down his range when he asks me, “So how did you eventually figure out my… background?”
I smile over at him. “Your first cookbook, it was an apartment-warming gift from Lauren. The best friend who’s moving,” I remind him.
“Ouch.” He slaps a hand over his heart. “That hurts.”
“What?”
Alex throws the towel he was using over his shoulder and leans in. “I’myour best friend, remember? Your oldest, dearest friend?”
“Ah, of course. And my first love!”
“Damn right.” He snaps the towel at my butt, making me yelp.
Our eyes meet, wide with mutual shock.
“Shit,” he says, “I’m so sorry. Why did I do that? I don’t know. God, it’s so weird. Sometimes I forget we barely know each other—”
I cackle. “Your face!”
He whips the towel at my butt again. “You’re a menace!”
“I’m the menace? You just towel-spanked me! Twice!”
Alex throws the towel over his head. “I’m the menace.”
“Maybe we’re both menaces.” I lean in and drag the towel off his face. And suddenly he’s there, much closer than I realized, and I’m staring at him. Our mouths only a few inches apart. A swallow works down my throat.
Alex lifts a hand, sweeps his thumb across the edge of my mouth, along my bottom lip. Every nerve in my body crackles. “Egg yolk,” he says. “You had some there.”
Embarrassment sweeps through me. I scowl up at him. “You’rejusttelling me?”
His gaze dances across my face. “Honestly, I didn’t notice, until you were this close.”
I realize Iamclose to him. Too close. I step back. Alex does, too.