Kai had stopped chewing and stared at a point just above my head. When he finally spoke, I could tell he had to make an effort to piece together his thoughts. “You know, I have heard the dating scene in New York is rough, but what kind of men have you had to wade through, Charlie?”
I giggled into my potato salad. “The chipmunks were only rumors, but feet and power tools showed up on my online dating suggestion feed.” I stopped talking, horrified. What was with all the honesty? I just met this man, and he had me confessing to online dating profiles? Where is your dignity, woman?
Kai tore a bite of his panini with his hands. “I’m going to forego the chance to mock you mercilessly about online dating and just move on to asking you the same question. What gives? You’re smart, funny, attractive, and while you appear to have nearly debilitating perfectionist tendencies, you know your way around the kitchen. According to the law of averages, you could have been married to an eager Mormon dude by the age of nineteen, and any other red-blooded American male by twenty-five.”
I screwed up my face. “Am I to respond in gratitude for those words or should I shove you off the cliff? I’m really at war with myself on those two options.”
Kai lobbed a generous piece of chocolate cake onto my plate and handed me a fresh fork. “Even we lowly short-order cooks know to offer a clean fork for dessert. Be nice.” He nodded to my plate, and I saw a ripple of tension in his jaw. He wants me to like the cake. Damn. It was going so well, and now I was going to have to lie.
I smiled at him, steeling myself for my most impressive falsehood. Manda always said I was an abysmal liar, and I hoped to heaven the darkness of the night would at least salvage a bit of the man’s pride.
I pushed my fork through the top layer of creamy frosting, then all three layers of the cake. Keeping my eyes down, I put the fork to my mouth. He’d used good chocolate, I knew, and after a moment, I picked up a note of coffee, which only intensified the flavor of the chocolate. The frosting was decadent and smooth, but not cloying. In fact, the entire bite struck the precise balance of sass and sweet.
I looked up at Kai, who was trying to look busy cleaning up our dishes. “This cake is so, so good. It’s just the right kind of good.” I took another bite and Kai waited, his hands still now. “I know what it is,” I said after another swallow. “This cake reminds me of something. Not even something specific, but something … homey. And real. And good.”
I stopped talking, hit with a sudden and unwelcome embarrassment. I was pretty sure I’d crossed the line from compliment giver to creepy gusher. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I think I overused the word good a bit there. Not the most helpful adjective.”
Kai shook his head slowly, his attention solely on my face. “I think goodness is entirely underrated.” The lamplight from the lanterns danced in his eyes. “Glad you like my cake. I have to tell you there was some pressure trying to make a cake that would impress a fancy pastry chef.”
I smiled, feeling myself lean slightly toward him. “Thank you for baking it for me. And for making me dinner.” I cocked my head to one side. “I’ve eaten some pretty amazing meals in the last few years, but I don’t remember ever being this … satisfied.” I was speaking quietly now, trying very hard to remember not to stare at Kai’s lips. “Your food satisfies. It’s like a visit to a small town park. Or a knockout sunset. Or the feeling after going for a run in a summer rainstorm. Or—”
“Charlie.” Kai interrupted me, apparently feeling no such compulsion to avoid looking at people’s lips. “Very poetic. But please stop talking.”
His kiss, I was pleased to note, was a lot like his chocolate cake. Sweet with a little sass, and absolutely the best reason I’d ever had to shut up.
11
I inhaled, breathing in the piquant scents of salt and earth and pine trees. I was momentarily confused. Where was I? Reality set in when I felt a pinecone tangled up in my hair. Cool, damp air had settled into the space around me, and I could feel my clothes clinging to me in a decidedly not-indoor way. I bolted upright and saw Kai to my right, rustling but still asleep. At first glance, a passerby would think we were formerly wealthy homeless people, maybe victims of the dot-com bust. I still wore the cropped jacket, embroidered tank, and tailored jeans from the night before, though I’d shed my Toms at some point, probably after the chocolate cake and before the milky gray dawn arrived. Kai lay on his side, sandy curls running amok on his forehead, one arm cradling his head as a makeshift pillow. The lanterns had sputtered out long ago, and because of the clouds above and the quiet around us, I had no earthly idea of the actual time.