Killian sensed my hesitation and threw me a life preserver. “You don’t have to decide now. Just see how you feel later.”
“How will I find you?” Not that I was thinking about going. Because I wasn’t.
“Here, hand me your phone. I’ll give you my number.”
I blinked at him, unable to believe he was seriously hitting on me. He had such a poker face. “Okay, smooth operator,” I mumbled.
His lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “What?”
“Don’t act so casual. I see what you’re doing.”
It became harder for him to hold back his smile. “I’m just saying; then you can text me later.”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
The smile won, breaking through and transforming his face from ruggedly handsome to I can’t breathe when I look directly at you. “I probably need it anyway, you know, for like work stuff.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Work stuff?”
“That way I can just text you tips and salt warnings.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He reached up to tug at the side of his beard, forcing it into shape. Then he curled those long fingers at me, gesturing for me to give up my phone.
Apparently, I’d also lost my mind. I grabbed my cell from the shelf over my head and walked it to him. “If I get a text about salt, I might punch you.”
He took the phone from me after I’d tapped in the password, our fingers brushing in the exchange. It wasn’t anything. We barely touched, but a burst of sensation sizzled up my arm, sending butterflies in a craze inside my belly and flushing my cheeks with heat. What was wrong with me?
I’d sworn off men.
All men.
Including him.
Especially him.
But honestly, did I even stand a chance when it came to him? His bright green eyes were warm beneath thick lashes. His dark hair was wavy and full, pushed to one side in a disheveled sort of delicious mess. He was just a step shorter than me, since he still hovered near the doorway and it was the first time I looked at his face where his beard wasn’t the prominent feature. From this angle, I noticed his tanned, perfect skin and the wrinkles his forehead made when he raised his eyebrows.
I swallowed and took a steadying breath. Get it together.
He punched in his number and then called his phone from mine. “It’s done,” he said simply, handing it back to me. “Just text me when you decide about tonight. I’ll tell you where to meet us.”
“Do you go out with your staff a lot?” I knew I was being nosy, but whenever they came to the truck, they seemed to be terrified of him. Wyatt especially had a delirious case of hero-worship grounded in substantial work-related terror. I wondered if Killian was a different person with them outside of work.
Although it was hard to imagine Killian as anything but domineering.
He lifted one shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t know. Sometimes.”
“That’s nice of you. I bet they like that.”
His dry look disagreed with me. “Sure. Everyone loves hanging out with their boss.”
“Hey, my employees love hanging out with me. Maybe it’s just you.”
He shook his head, calling my bullshit. “Your employees are your friends.”
“Exactly. Yours could be too.”
“No, they’re your actual friends. They want to hang out with you because you’re who they hang out with.”
“You’re just jealous.” Oh, my God, why was I flirting with him? I needed a sedative. Like one of those tribal spit-shooter darts. I should have planted Molly in the bushes so she could blow one at me in case of emergency.
This was obviously an emergency.
His smile was earnest and made his eyes crinkle. “Maybe. Are you sticking around to work today?”
I shook my head, determined to pull back and disentangle myself from this weird place we’d accidentally stumbled into. “No, I have some errands to do. And I have to figure the menu out for the weekend.”
“Writer’s block?”
I wrinkled my nose, trying to pinpoint it. “I need more inspiring produce. I’ve been going to Wagner’s, but it’s just not good enough.”
“Have you tried the Morning Market? On Franklin Ave.?”
My ears perked up. This was the tip I needed. “No. Is it good?”
He gave me a look. “Do you doubt my judgment?”
“This could be sabotage.”
“This is a favor,” he countered. “And you’re going to owe me your first born son when you realize I just changed your life.” I made a “ha!” sound, but he ignored me. “It’s only open in the mornings from seven to ten-thirty. The earlier you get there, the better. There’s coffee, though. And a kolache stand. It’s legit. You’ll love it.”
“Killian, thank you. I’ve been searching for a great place to go, but I’ve never heard of this one.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of an insider secret.”
I could have hugged him, but I held back. I was confused enough and wrapping myself around his body like a spider monkey didn’t seem like the best decision.
“Thanks again.” I waved my phone back and forth. “I’ll text you what I decide about tonight.”
“Sounds good. Bye, Vera.”
“Bye, Killian.”
He stepped down from the truck and turned toward Lilou. I told myself I wasn’t watching him walk away, but then he turned back around and caught me staring at him. He didn’t call me on it, though.
“Meatballs,” he called out.
Fine. I’d been staring at his ass. Whatever. Regardless, I was incapable of coherent thought. “What?”
“You should make meatballs again. Your lamb ones were the best meatballs I’ve ever had.”
The professional side of me exploded in a surprise orgasm. Just kidding. But I was almost too shocked to reply. I mean, what?!?! He didn’t wait around for me to reply anyway. He crossed the street without another word.
“Is that why you stole the recipe from me?” I shouted after him, but he was already to the side door of Lilou. He didn’t even bother to turn around and defend himself. He just disappeared inside with that impish grin mostly hidden behind his thick beard.
It wasn’t until my cheeks started hurting that I realized I had been grinning too. For like a solid half hour. Especially after I double checked my phone and saw that Killian’s name appeared under the title James Q.
Which explained a lot about my nosy internet friend.
It also made me extremely, irrationally happy for some unexplainable reason.
I pulled the Living Section out of my purse and stared at Derrek’s smug face. My dad’s words echoed through the narrow galley of my truck. You’ll have your picture in the paper someday.
But not if I got distracted.
Perspective, Vera.
I went home an hour later. And six hours later when Killian texted to see if I’d decided to go out or not, I told him I had a headache.
He didn’t text back.
I was safe from losing myself again.
I was back in neutral territory with Killian.
I was a coward.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, I felt like shit. It might have been because I stress ate my way through a half pan of double fudge brownies. The box kind. I’d sold out for two-dollars-worth of anxiety-induced desperation.