He holds out his fork toward me, waiting expectantly. My gaze flickers between the tines to his face and back before it finally clicks. I lift my fork and hesitantly clink it against his in an odd sort ofcheers.His panty-melting grin widens, making flutters of something warm and cozy flicker to life within me, spreading light into a darkened and forgotten corner of my heart. That smile is a dangerous thing to a woman’s libido. No wonder the man is as popular as he is.
“Is furasta an práta a thabhairt suas nuair a bhíonn grá ann,”he announces, waving his fork in the air dramatically before stabbing the gnocchi with gusto.
“What language is that?” I ask, enjoying the luscious texture of the sauce coating my pasta.
“Irish Gaelic. My grandma used to say it to me as a child.”
“Like the Irish version ofbon appétit?”
“Not quite,” he snorts. “I believe it meansit’s easy to halve a potato where there is love.But it’s the only Gaelic I know, so I throw it out occasionally. Sometimes jumbling up the words. Novak thinks I’m cursing at him every time.”
Laughing in ernest at his mischievousness, I raise my fork to imitate him, feeling silly and happy, something I haven’t felt for quite some time.
A quick check tells me his attention is on his food. I indulge in the opportunity to stare at him without shame, noting the long lashes lining his eyes, a shade darker than his brows. He chooses that moment to take his hat off to run his fingers through his messy locks. The setting sun picks up streaks of dirty blond and not for the first time, I wonder how soft his hair would be to touch.
Good lord, the man should come with a warning sign.
Caution: ovarian combustion imminent.
I hadn’t expected to like Cal as much as I do, and it’s not only physical attraction. I don’t want to lose his friendship over this pact we’ve made.
I wait until he’s chewing around a morsel of food, debating whether to say anything at all. Cal’s been completely candid with me; it gives me courage to do the same.
“I wasn’t searching for a date,” I admit, gently drawing the tip of my fork along the edge of my plate. At his questioning look, I explain. “When I signed up for ChatTrick, dating wasn’t on my mind. I was angry with Namik for cheating on me. I thought if it was so easy for him, I could do it, too. Pick a stranger, get laid.”
Prove him wrong. Feel less like a loser.
“You never did casual before?”
I shake my head.
“Why now? Why not a. . .” He trails off, but his implication is clear.
Why not a boyfriend? A relationship?
For a long time, I devoted myself to one thing—cricket. For some reason, I believed love and marriage would be the same. I’d find one person to commit to, and that’d be it. But life worked out differently and now I’d rather break into hives than jump into a commitment with no experience. Again.
“I’m not ready for the investment expected from me in a relationship.”
Cal nods like he understands. I’m not sure he does, but I’m determined to make it clear.
“I need to know that we can sleep together without it affecting our friendship.” My voice is low, but there is no denying he hears me. “I can’t lose a friend, Cal. I don’t have enough of them to risk. I know it sounds like I’m waffling on what I want but I’m not. I’m trying to be clear about what you can expect from me.”
He tilts his head, studying me like he’s trying to put the scattered pieces of my story together. He can’t know. I’ve said enough as it is, and I don’t want his pity.
His eyes bore into me. “You’re afraid I’ll catch feelings, is that it?”
No, I’m afraid I will, and I need to be reminded I shouldn’t. Because you won’t.
I shove more food into my mouth to avoid answering him. His expression is pinched as he stares at his plate. Only the sounds of metal clinking against ceramic, and the occasional chirp of a bird nearby fills the silence.
“You won’t lose yourself with the right man, Alia.”
There is no judgement in the gruff way he says it, but it pricks all the same. The pasta slides down my throat easier than the emotions lodged there. I reach for my water, taking a large sip and letting the cool drink soothe me.
Confusing Cal’s kindness and friendship for anything more is a mistake I refuse to make.
With a fortifying breath, I spear yet another sauce-covered gnocchi and pop it into my mouth, finding sufficient strength to smile brightly at my dinner partner.