This isn’t going smashingly.Henry hesitated a moment, then sighed. “I’m dying of boredom, I don’t do well alone, and I want someone to talk to.”
“And you’re picking me?”
Henry shrugged. “You’re good at what you do and I know where your hotel room is. Plus nothing I do is going toloweryour opinion of me.”
“Plenty you do could lower my opinion of you. But probably not this.” Tristan dragged his gaze up and down Henry before he finally broke the quiet. “The restaurant downstairs is cheap and open until eleven. It would do me some good to eat something that’s not cake today. And you were nice enough to come apologize. Eventually.”
Holy shit, the plan had worked? This outcome wasn’t the naked, sweaty shower fantasy Henry had left his room with, but it was a lot more than he’d expected. “If you want to.”
Tristan shrugged, revealing the sugar skull for a fraction of a second. And a peek of nipple that shouldn’t have doneanythingfor Henry at all. But it did. “Let me put clothes on. A bathrobe probably violates the health codes in California as much as it would in Washington.”
“Are you planning to go into the kitchen?”
“Depends how bad the food is.”
Henry rolled his eyes as Tristan walked back into the room, but his body betrayed his excitement, tingling electric at the surprising... not quite victory, since he didn’t have the chiffon recipe. But not a failure, either. His crazy plan had gotten him dinner with someone. It had gotten him company. It had gotten him out of his hotel room and out of his own head.
I wonder how many other tattoos he has?One tatt was a drunken night in Cabo. Two was a habit.
Henry cupped his hand around his mouth and leaned closer to the door. “I’ll be back in two seconds.” Then he slipped back to his room and hastily tossed on some clothes that wouldn’t embarrass him. And he deodorized, ran a comb through his hair to tame it into shape, and sprayed some of his fancy cologne to walk through. It was a luxury he’d considered not bringing. Did he really need to smell like a tropical jungle to bake cookies?Of course not.But wearing it, he could carry himself a little higher and with a heapful more confidence. And a heapful was about the right amount for tonight.
Henry sniffed himself—he smelled good.Hopefully Tristan’ll like the scent too. It shouldn’t have been important, but Henry told himself he didn’t want to be an insensitive dinner guest. He didn’t believe that was the reason, but he told himself that anyway.
Tristan almost had to laugh at the absurdity of the whole situation. He and Henry now sat together in the very lonely restaurant.I expect Hell to freeze over any second now.Dinner with Henry fucking Isaacson? He wouldn’t have bet on that in a million years.
A haggard waiter stood with them, wearing a surprisingly convincing smile. “What drinks can I get started for you guys tonight?”
Tristan almost asked for coffee before remembering it was after 9 p.m. “Do you have any herbal teas? Chamomile would be lovely.”
“The only herbal we have is peppermint.”
“That’ll be good.”
“I’ll have the same.” Henry smiled and nodded to the waiter. “I love peppermint. Just had a brilliant peppermint cake, but that’s not the most nutritious dinner.”
“Okay, I’ll bring out the hot water and the tea bags so you can steep it to your taste.” The waiter’s smile widened for a moment. “Be back shortly.”
Tristan leaned forward. “You had peppermint cake in your room?”
Henry shrugged. “Ireallylike peppermint, and your peppermint cake wasreallygood, so I took a slice with me.”
Tristan snorted and broke eye contact. “Thanks.” The restaurant was suddenly getting warm. “The key is candy oils instead of extracts and emulsions. And fresh mint.” He suppressed his cringe. Mostly. “And I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“It’s okay. I promise to only use it to crush you in the competition.”
“So nothing to worry about. Considering I’ve already come in first and you... what, you lost two weeks in a row?” Smack talk didn’t roll off his tongue, exactly, but like hell was he going to let Henry fucking Isaacson best him at it without a fight.
Henry shook his head. “I didn’t lose.” He pointed to Hezzie, sipping away at her martini glass at a corner table. “That’s what loss looks like.”
“So you’ll be drinking whatever fruity monstrosity that is when you lose?”
“Hey, that fruity monstrosity is probably delicious. I love the taste of red number five.”
Tristan snorted. When he breathed back in... coconut. So much coconut. And some oranges and vanilla and wood, but the coconut was still so prevalent. “What cologne do you wear?”
“Oh, it’s not bothering you, is it? I kind of wondered if I should wear it at all.”
“It’s not a bother. You just smell like coconut all the time and I want to know where I can get it.”
