Page 44 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

That’s strange, and not what I’d expected when the woman had called this Wren’s party.

“How do they know you here?” I ask, curiosity winning out over my too-fast heart and clammy palms. “Do you come here a lot?”

“I worked here,” Jed tells me, a small smile on his lips. “The chef here is Sophie Piccola. She currently holds six Michelin stars. Anyway, I worked here under her, before she decided to open another location on the other side of town.”

“So you work there as a chef now?” I assume, when he doesn’t go on.

“As the head chef,” Wren corrects. “And before he tries to downplay it, Jed holds two Michelin stars himself. We come here because his mentor loves him, and he’s a food snob. Her food is the only thing he really enjoys and doesn’t just put up with.”

There’s probably some irony to the ex-cannibal being an amazing chef, but all I can do is stare at him in awe. No wonder his food had been amazing and my Lunchables had offended him so much.

“I can’t cook,” I blurt out finally, feeling suddenly subpar to him in this area. “At all. Like, I burn water.”

“You’ve told me.” A small smile sneaks onto his lips, warming his expression. “And I kind of got that when you told me you exist off of Lunchables.”

“It doesn’t bother you that I have zero appreciation for the culinary arts?”

“You seemed to appreciate it well enough when I cooked for you.” He leans close to me, like he’s drawn to me by a magnet, until his lips brush mine. “And besides⁠—”

“Not at the table,” Cass grumps, cutting him off. “And your mentor is coming.” I can feel him kick Jed under the table, who straightens with slightly wide eyes as he looks up into the face of a tiny, older woman.

“My staff told me you were here,” she greets, reaching out and cupping his cheeks affectionately. “Celebration, or pity party?” Her eyes flit between everyone at the table before finally landing on me. She glances between us, looking down at his hand on my leg, before beaming even wider. “Celebration I see. It’s so good to see you, Jed. The bourbon salmon isn’t on the menu anymore, but you don’t need to worry about that.” She pets his cheek. “I’ll make one up special for you.” Then her attention turns on me, and I can feel her assessing me like she’s his mother and I have to meet with her approval.

“I’m Saylor,” I introduce, wondering if I should curtsy or announce my sub bar lineage. “I’m⁠—”

“You must be special if my Jed has been able to take his nose out of his cookbooks for you,” Sophia Piccola interrupts, still beaming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Tell Jed to bring you around more often. He knows how much I love him and his friends.” She turns and winks at Cass, who grins back at her, and then promptly walks to the back of the restaurant, a pep in her step that belies her age.

“She feels…” I trail off, watching her go as I look for the right word.

Jed rubs his cheek, grimacing. “Terrifying?” he supplies. “Dictator-ish?”

“Kind,” I say, and turn my smile on him. “Why in the world is she terrifying?”

“She threw him in a dunk tank once,” Cass mumbles from around a mouthful of bread. Wren barks out a laugh, and even Hazel snorts. “Go on, Jed. Tell her how she got mad about your chicken being dry and carted a dunk tank here to throw you in.”

“Oh my god,” Jed groans, head in his hands as his elbows hit the table. “I’m not telling her that. This is so embarrassing, you guys.”

“Okay, no problem.” Cass looks at me, and I can tell by the glint in his eyes this isn’t over. “So it was four years ago, and Jed here was so sure he was cooking chicken the right way. Anyway, he wasn’t⁠—”

Jed’s moan of despair in my ear makes me snicker into my hand, but I give Cass my full attention, needing the entire story for my curiosity to be sated.

The moment Jed gets rid of Cass and Wren, finally telling them under no uncertain terms goodbye and goodnight, he pulls me around the building toward the staff parking lot, his grip on my arm tight enough that I couldn’t break free if I wanted to.

Luckily for both of us, I absolutely don’t want to.

But when he turns and I see the uncertainty in his face, my heart sinks.

“You…don’t want me here,” I assume automatically, my heart freezing in my chest. I should’ve known, or guessed, this was an act so his friends don’t think he’s an ass. He could get any girl he could ever want. Why would I think he wants me?

“What?” He stares at me in shock, eyes wide. “No! I…please don’t say that. Why would you think that, Saylor. I—” He cuts the words off with a click of his teeth. “I’m scared you don’t want to be here.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. I blink at Jed, confused, and run our conversations through my head. “Why would I be here…if I didn’t want to be?” I ask, eyes narrowed. “I could’ve told the cops. Or not stalked Wren to his work. Or not come here. Or, hell, I could’ve chickened out and gone home. I surprised you. You didn’t have those options. If anyone here is in a place to reject someone, it’s⁠—”

He doesn’t let me finish. Jed grabs my hips, pulling me round until he can shove me against the side of his Jeep as his lips slam into mine with all the finesse of a badly tuned piano crashing down from a fifth story roof. I gasp at the contact, and Jed takes the opportunity to slip his tongue between my teeth, tasting every part of me like he doesn’t know what I had for dinner.

“Fuck, princess,” he purrs, finally pulling away. “Fuck. I just don’t want to force you, or make you think⁠—”

This time I’m the one who closes the distance between us, with my hands looped around his shoulders to yank him back to me. I kiss him hard, nipping at his lower lip in a way I know will make him moan. He does, of course, and I swallow the sound happily.