I glared at him, irritated with the way he didn’t seem to care that he’d pissed me off. Was I a joke to everyone around here? “I have no idea why you’re here, Wyatt.”
He raised his hands defensively. “Don’t be mad at me. This is one of those don’t shoot the messenger situations.”
I leaned over the messy counter, littered with shredded lettuce and feta cheese from tonight’s spicy gyro slider and growled at him through the window. “Too late. You’ve been blacklisted.”
One of his dark eyebrows lifted, the silver ring at the end glinting in my bright lights. “You can afford to blacklist people?”
“Oh, my God, you’re just like him.”
“Wrong,” he argued immediately. “He’s Killian Quinn. I’m just a poor, insignificant sous chef. We could not be more different.”
The humbled awe in his tone when he murmured Killian Quinn’s name so reverently made me roll my eyes. “I don’t want to hear it, Wyatt. You’re going to have to eat out of your own kitchen.”
A line had formed behind him. It wasn’t big, just a couple and another set of club goers behind them, but I didn’t want them to walk away because Wyatt wanted to draw me a pie chart of all the ways Killian Quinn was superior to the rest of us posers.
Wyatt’s gaze followed mine and he glanced over his shoulder at the people standing behind him. When he turned around the arrogance was gone, replaced with puppy dog eyes and an overly exaggerated pout. “But the lamb smells so good, V! I have a thing for gyros. It’s practically sexual.”
“And I have a thing for not being told I’m doing everything wrong.”
He clasped his hands together in front of him. “Please, Vera. I’m starving. You wouldn’t deny a starving man a good meal, would you?”
Molly covered her mouth with her hand, hiding her smile. But her hiccup of laughter gave her away regardless.
Unlike my forgiving BFF, I held my poker face. “Go away, Wyatt.”
I half expected him to drop to his knees and beg, but his next offer surprised me. “I’ll trade you.”
“What?”
A satisfied gleam lit his eyes, and he leaned into the window as if the people behind him cared what he had to say. He was just tall enough that he could peer inside the truck, his large fingers curling around the metal window frame. “I’ll bring you dessert.”
Curiosity sparked inside me, but I needed more of a verbal contract. “From where?”
He jerked his chin toward Lilou. “From where do you think?”
“What is it?”
“Lemon and lavender cake bars or dark chocolate mousse with a salted popcorn crunch.”
I puffed my cheeks out, thinking about his offer. “I want both.”
“I don’t know if I can—”
“All or nothing, Wyatt. You did this to yourself.”
Wyatt glanced helplessly at Molly. “She’s so mean to me. Is she this mean to you?”
Molly laughed and shook her head. “I’ve never sold her secrets to the antichrist.”
Wyatt glared at her but turned back to me, resigned. “Fine. Both. But if I get caught I need you to testify in court that you held me at gunpoint.”
My lips twitched, but I suppressed my smile. “You’re stalling, and I have customers.”
His head dropped back, and he let out a frustrated growl. “Fine. Two desserts.” He looked at me once again. “Can I order now? Please?”
“You have to eat it inside the truck.”
“What?”
I pointed to the space behind Molly. “I don’t trust you, Wyatt. If you’re ordering it, you’re eating in here.”
“Woman!” He pulled out his wallet despite his frustration. “Fine, but hurry. My break’s almost over.”
I stepped back from the window and moved to open the door for Wyatt. He marched inside, eating up all the small space with his lanky frame.
Sensing his hurry, I rushed to make his gyro sliders. I had made meatballs instead of the traditional shaved lamb and let them simmer in Mediterranean gravy all day. They were amazing. And perfectly spiced.
It had only taken me the entire week to get the recipe right.
And it had absolutely nothing to do with Killian Quinn’s criticism.
Nothing at all.
Wyatt leaned over my shoulder, crowding me. “Don’t be stingy with the feta.”
I threw him a glare over my shoulder and almost ran into his nose. “Back off, buddy. You’ll get what I give you.”
He took a step back, his mouth splitting into a charming grin. Unease curled in my stomach, and I turned back to his order.
It wasn’t him. Wyatt was nothing but adorably friendly. Despite his tattoos and piercings, he was way too chill to be a threat. But my past had broken me. Had twisted my trust and turned my personal bubble into an impenetrable steel cage.
Molly added orders to the ticket line, so I didn’t have time to pay Wyatt any attention after I handed him his meal.
“Holy shit, Vera,” he mumbled through a mouth full of food. “This is insane.”
I smiled down at the pita pocket I’d made from scratch. “I know.” And I did. But it was still nice to hear it from someone else—someone that knew what he was talking about.
“I want another,” he demanded.
“I thought you had to go?” Smiling at the people at the pickup window, I handed their sealed to go containers over and spared Wyatt a glance. He stood hovering above the small staircase as if deciding what to do.
“When I bring your desserts back I need another one.”
“You’re going to have to eat it here again,” I told him. His eyes bugged comically. “I’m not kidding. I’m not dealing with him again.”
His crooked smile made me release one of my own. “Do you know how many kidneys I would give for him to try my food and tell me what he thought? Both of them. I would give both of them.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re crazy. He was being nice.”
“He was being an asshole, and you know it. Now get back to work before the asshole fires you.”
He glanced nervously at the street before tossing his hand up in a quick wave. “You’re right. He will fire me.”
The door slammed shut behind him, but I was already working on the next order. And the next. A whole fifteen minutes passed before Molly found a second to give me her opinion.
“He’s cute.”
I scanned the plaza, playing dumb. “Who?”
She slapped my arm with the back of her hand. “You know who. Tall, dark and tattooed.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific,” I told her.
Making a sound in the back of her throat she pointed at Lilou. “Wyatt the Gyro Lover. He’s hot, and you know it.”
I chewed on my bottom lip to keep from smiling. “He’s not ugly. I’ll give you that.”
“And those piercings.”
I nodded. “They make him even less ugly.”
“So?”
Cutting my attention back to my meatballs and the next order, I avoided eye contact with her. “So what?”
“So… you should hit that.”
“Oh, my God, Molly. You have a weird obsession with my sex life, you know that?”
A laugh bubbled out of her, but she didn’t deny it. “I just want you to move on, Vere. And the fastest way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”