“You two know each other?” someone asks.
“She was my physical therapist,” Bertha says brightly. “One of the best I’ve had.”
I laugh, a little embarrassed. “I wouldn’t go that far?—”
“Unfortunately, she didn’t have the right tools to help me,” Bertha continues cheerfully. “But that’s okay. Now she’s here, maybe she’ll learn something.”
I freeze as all eyes turn to me.
Luke coughs to hide a laugh.
She didn’t mean it as a jab. That’s the worst part. She genuinely believes it.
A server rolls in a trolley piled high with plates of food, and the mood shifts instantly.
Everyone perks up.
When the dish is revealed, I understand why. Buttered lobster, potatoes, herbs—rich, fragrant, perfect.
“Wow,” I murmur.
“Wait till you taste it,” Luke says, sliding a plate toward me.
I take a bite.
“Oh God.” My eyes close. “That is sinful.”
“Thank you,” he says, watching me.
“You made this?”
“I mentioned I was a world-famous cook, right?”
“Not like this.” I take another bite, barely holding back a moan. “I didn’t expect it to be this good.”
“This is nothing. You should see what we’re having tomorrow. But you’re not staying.”
“What will it be?”
“Lamb chops. Caramelized eel. White chocolate. Caviar.”
I nearly groan.
Maybe staying one more day wouldn’t be so bad.
No. That’s ridiculous – what am I thinking? I need to leave.
I look around again. Everyone is eating with enthusiasm.
Everyone except one woman, sitting near Reid.
She barely touches her food. Just pushes it around, her eyes fixed on him.
Not admiration.
Something else.
Fear. Need.