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He presses his thumb to my lips and drags them down a little. He captures my lips with his and kisses me.
“Boo!” A crumpled-up straw wrapper hits the side of Jesse’s face. “Get a room, happy couple.”
But Hannah’s eyes glint with excitement.
“The alarm company’s coming by today,” Jesse says. “Don’t give anyone the code. Not even Grant. I’ll close up with you. Got it?”
“Are you sure?”
He cups my cheek in his warm palm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Thirty-One
JESSE
“I’m so nervous,”Marci says, swiping her hands down the front of her apron. “I’ve never done this before.”
I laugh and adjust the camera on the tripod in the kitchen of the Heartstopper.
“You’re going to do great. And the best part is, we get to eat it after you’re done.”
The idea is for Marci to test out new dishes for the menu in the Heartstopper. She’s been terrified of making changes because she wants to stay true to her father’s original vision, and she doesn’t want to piss off Grant, but it’s time.
And these photos are going on flyers and a brand new website I’m helping her set up. We’re going to spend the weekend traveling to Prickly Poppy Bay, Yonder, and Santa Elena to hand out flyers and drum up enthusiasm with the locals. I’m aKitchen Nightmaresenjoyer, and I saw the OG, Gordon Ramsay, do something similar on an episode once.
I’m hoping it will have the same effect.
The bonus is, we get to spend the night together in the diner, the doors locked, and my watchful eye on Marci.
All over Marci.
I trace my gaze over her body. She’s in those sinful jean shorts, wearing an oversized sweater and her apron, her shock of red hair tied back neatly. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and her hip popped to one side as she considers the recipes she’s scribbled down on her notepad on the steel countertop.
So fucking gorgeous.
How the fuck am I going to keep my distance from her? The thought is terrifying, given that we’re planning a future divorce and that I shouldn’t have anyfeelingsfor her.
But I want to protect her from her brother’s bullshit, from this Jonesy guy who’s lying low, and I’m not ready to face why I feel this way about her.
“All right,” she says. “I can do this. I’m going to do this.”
She never used to show me this vulnerable side, and I’m honored.
“So do it, Angel. Show me what you’ve got.”
Marci shoots me a glare that’s full of a challenge, and I grin at her.
She takes a deep breath, and then she starts grabbing ingredients out of the fridge. I grab a couple of stools from the diner and sit down nearby, watching as she moves through the space. She’s determined. Marci’s got the type of walk that makes people get the fuck out of the way, and I like that about her.
“What’s on the menu, Angel?”
“So, there are a couple of things I want to try,” she says. “We usually serve burgers, steaks, breakfasts, and that kind of thing, and I want to stay in the wheelhouse of like… All-American cuisine. But I want to try new and exciting flavors. I’d love it if we did quesadillas or fajitas. I love Mexican food.”
“Me too,” I say. “Hold the spice.”
“That’s so funny,” Marci replies. “Your sister loves spice, and you don’t?”
“Oh, Han? Yeah, she’s a freak when it comes to that stuff. Enters the hot pepper eating contest every damn year. I’m surprised she hasn’t won it yet.”
