“You think?” Kelsey says with a sarcastichuff and a sidelong glance. “You know damn well that you just made their night.”
I shrug nonchalantly but I don’t hide my pleased grin. She still looks back at me with her arms folded over her chest. I shamelessly take in the way her arms prop up her perky tits to give a tasteful hint of cleavage. In the back of my mind, I picture undoing the top button of that dress to reveal that tattoo I wish I could trace with my tongue. I bury that thought for later and just keep grinning back at her.
“I know I did. I just wanted you to get to see me in all my Pretty-Boy-Chef majesty.”
CHAPTER 23
KELSEY
It’s almostsurprising that closing down Gloria’s feels just like closing down Cowgirl Coffee. The front door is locked, the chairs are up on the tables and most of the staff has left. Sure, Gloria’s has ten times the staff at dinner service that the coffee shop has on the busiest morning, so that’s different. Otherwise it feels the same, it feels familiar.
The lights in the dining room and kitchen are out, and all that’s left on are the glowing pendant orbs over the bar, casting a subtle glow. Behind the bar, the white subway tile wall is washed in red from theGloria’sneon sign hanging above the open shelves of bottles.
It’s calm and peaceful, with a lingering charge in the air. It might be the romantic picturesque setting or it might be because I’m alone in here with Sutton.
After talking with Monica yesterday, I can’t get him out of my head. I hate when she’s right, but I can’t disagree with her. I do like him. And after tonight, I can’t get over how much I might have misjudged him.
Seeing how he treats Rich and his staff, watching how he made that couple feel like they were family, it’s all so genuine. Even after that couple left, I couldn’t get over how thoughtfulhe was, and paid so much attention to every detail to give them a taste of home.
This late at night, I know it’s not the best choice but I take a long sip of my iced coffee anyways. It’s probably adding to my racing thoughts, but I am a caffeine fiend and working late at a bar definitely calls for it.
“I think we’re good here.” Sutton calls from the other end of the bar and snaps me out of my mental spiral. Some of my coffee splashes on my lips and I look around for a towel. He walks over to me in the narrow space behind the back wall and the bar counter, with a fresh towel in hand. When he stops in front of me, his face is cast in the contrasting light of the pendants and the glowing red neon behind him. All of the striking features of his face are highlighted when he smiles at me.
“Here.” He reaches out and I grab the towel.
“Thanks,” I manage to squeak out.
Without my years of resolve to be mad at him, and with Monica’s idea to give him a chance in the back of mind, apparently I don’t know how to form sentences around him anymore.
He chuckles, which only flashes his dimples again. I know I give him shit for being so…him, but when he smiles like that it’s hard to think of a better way to describe this man.
“I assume you’re staying here tonight and not going back to Rodgers this late?”
I nod way too eagerly. “Yep.” I guess I’m still stuck on one word sentences. Just great.
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that,” he says excitedly.
I raise a brow. “Why? What do you think is happening here tonight, Pretty Boy?”
“I just have something I wanted you to try.”
He steps toward me with an arm extended and for a second, I think he’s going to try to pull me to him and kiss me.His hands find my hips and I don’t flinch because he’s doing it. He’s going to do what I’m too afraid to do.
I’m waiting for it but instead of crossing that line, he lifts me up onto the countertop with frighteningly little effort. I don’t think about that though because now we are eye to eye. My heart races and my palms get sweaty while I wait for him to move closer.
“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he says, his deep voice still laced with excitement in an almost giddy way.
He leans forward and, to my shocking disappointment, he bends down and opens the freezer under the counter beneath me. He pulls out a pint of gelato and shuts the freezer door with a gentle thud. I’ve never been so let down by the prospect of dessert before.
He sets it on the counter beside me and grabs two spoons. I let out the breath I was holding and try to hide my disappointment. My body feels like it’s about to spontaneously combust from the anticipation that is coursing through me. While I will admit that I have wanted to try that gelato since he served it tonight, it’s not the treat I was hoping for right now.
“I still can’t believe you did that for them. Do you do that often?”
He shrugs and pops the lid off the pint container. He still stands frustratingly close to me. So close that his jeans brush against my mostly bare legs, pricking all my nerves to full awareness.
He shrugs off his chef’s coat and if I thought I was wound up before, I melt when I see his toned, tattooed forearms. His black t-shirt leaves none of his honed build to the imagination. He’s as gorgeous as the day I met him, if not even better looking.
“It’s why I do this. I know it’s not the same as your memories with this place, but I cook because I want to make peoplehappy.” He says it so casually and smiles while he bends down, opening the freezer again. His tousled, inky brown hair brushes my bare calves. Looking down, his head is just inches from where I want it to be. I am too wound up right now.