Page 118 of The Redheads

Max shrugged. “You could and I suppose you should, but you could also go sit at that little table in the corner and let me feed you.”

He wanted to feed me? I stared at the door where the last party I’d be throwing like this was happening. And then I turned around and sat down at the table. Max wanted to feed me, and I was going to let him. With a smirk that shouldn’t be as cute as it was, he headed to a different stovetop and started to cook.

After a moment, he looked up. “Ben, get Hope a seltzer. Oh and, Hope, you want a meal made entirely of pesto sauce right? Everything coated in pesto?”

“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes at him. “I see the plan. Lure me here with promises of food and make me choke down pesto.”

The seltzer was set down in front of me, and I took a sip, loving the bubbles. Max had seen me order this when we’d gone out. It was sweet he remembered it was usually my choice. Or at least as usual as he could know anything about me up until that point.

Soon, the food started rolling out. I should probably tell him not to do this. Surely they had to prep for dinner after finishing a catered lunch that they didn’t usually serve. But I wasn’t going to say anything. Max wanted to feed me, and I wanted to let him.

I let myself look around. The standards of cleanliness were clearly high. The kitchen, even with all the food passing and dishes being moved around, practically sparkled. Max would look up about every forty-five seconds from what he was doing. His staff moved fast. If they placed something in a storage box on the left side of the room, they wrote their initials next to it. Also, every box was labeled directly in the center of the box. That had to be purposeful.

I’d no sooner thought it than the first dish was set in front of me by Max himself. He leaned over the other side of the table and watched me look down at the dish, which was a little bit strange. I’d never had a chef present at the table in a restaurant to watch me eat before. It was somehow different at home.

“That’s gazpacho with Maine lobster. A little melon to go with it. If I’d had more time, I would have added some other fish too, so I’m sorry. It’s not everything I would have done.”

He was sorry? It was gorgeous. Like a piece of artwork on the plate. “Did you just do all of this right this very second?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I knew you were coming. I prepped.” His smile was slow. “Take a bite.”

I couldn’t have refused him anything in that second. I took a bite. The flavors together exploded in my mouth. Lobster could be too chewy. This wasn’t. The melon, a flavor I wouldn’t have paired with shellfish, worked to make everything sweet at the same time. I closed my eyes. “That is really, really good.”

He didn’t answer me, so I lifted my lids. Finally, he spoke. “I know. Enjoy. Be right back with the next bit.”

There was more? I really would have been happy to have just eaten this. All of the hype for his cooking was obviously well deserved. What would have happened to him if I hadn’t fucked with his life? I tried not to let that thought sour my tastebuds as I finished eating the melon. Eating alone wasn’t ideal. Also, I couldn’t have said why, but I might have sworn that all eyes in the kitchen were on me at one time or another.

They all seemed to be busy and not paying attention to me, except they totally were. Layla could always tell when she was being stared at, and she said it felt like pinpricks on her skin. I didn’t have her ability, but I did feel like there were perpetual eyes on me and I couldn’t have said why.

I’d no sooner finished than a man I hadn’t met delivered a salad in front of me. He spoke with an accent and a kind smile. “Kale salad. For you.”

With a nod, he left it there in front of me. I didn’t adore kale most of the time. It was fine, but it was like walking on the treadmill in terms of food. Not my favorite thing, yet I’d do it because it was good for me. In fact, given the fact that I wasrecently called fat by a gossip blogger, perhaps Ishouldbe eating more kale. It didn’t matter. Right then, I ate like I hadn’t a care in the world.

There was melon on the kale salad. That was new for me too. Melon wasn’t something I usually put on salads. Clearly, it was something that Max was doing tonight. I took a bite and knew immediately I hadn’t given kale a fair shake before. There were also small chips that were great because they added a crunch. I hadn’t known I needed that crunch, but oh, I loved it.

“How’s the melon?” Max asked as he swung back over.

As I was chewing, I shot him a thumbs-up gesture. Once I swallowed, I spoke. “The best kale I’ve ever eaten.”

Max leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Glad you like it, beautiful.”

With that, he rushed back to the station where he’d been working. Anne lifted her head, and this time, made direct eye contact with me before she lifted her eyebrows slowly. I swallowed some of my kale. I wasn’t sure exactly what she was saying to me, but her nonverbal gesture seemed serious. Okay. I sort of got it. She didn’t want me to fuck with him. I wasn’t. I had no idea where things were headed with Max and me, but right then, I was totally serious in how head over heels I was falling for him.

Yep, that was a cliché, and that was okay. Sometimes the cheesy love sayings worked because they just did.

Oh no. I’d thought the L word. We had sex once, and he cooked for me. I wasn’t in l… No, I wasn’t even going to think it.Nope. Nope. Nope.

Then he set the duck down in front of me. I swallowed. This had to be one of my most favorite things. Had I told him that? No, I didn’t think I had. Leave it to Max to just so happen to be cooking duck. I smiled up at him.

“I love duck.”

He nodded. “Of course you do. You have excellent taste.”

This still had the melon. That must have been the theme for the night. “Do you always do this? Same ingredient in all the dishes?”

“No.” He eyed the duck. I hadn’t tried it. This was a thing, clearly. Max wanted to watch me take a bite like he had with the kale and the lobster. This time, I took the bite but kept my eyes on his when I did. The room might as well have emptied out. It was like we were alone in it. I tasted plums and something else… Was that fennel in there too? Of course, also butter. “I just did that for you. The melon in everything.”

I swallowed my food. “You’re amazing. This is…really, really exceptional.”

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