“Looks like it.”
She raised her mostly empty coffee cup for another toast. I tapped mine against hers and watched her lips rise. Her eyes lowered as they did, like she wanted to keep the extent of her joy a secret, but I saw.
Honored was right.
Chapter Ten
Aubrey
Ursa Minor waslike the cooler younger sister of some of the more established fine-dining restaurants in Philly. Instead of a stripped-down modern aesthetic, splashes of color greeted you in every direction, from the mosaic tile flooring to the graffiti-stained glass windows and the mismatched velvet chairs at every table. Upbeat music spilled from the speakers, and the rest of the decor gave off a retro feel that made me want to dance.
The Midtown Village spot was busy for a Wednesday, which made it perfect for subtle reconnaissance. Jillian had learned who a handful of the other catering competition applicants were, and I figured getting a feel for their food might be helpful.
Plus, eating incredible food from other chefs was the best inspiration out there. Not just by learning from what they did well but by imagining what I might do differently.
It was part of what I missed about working in the same kitchen as Jase—working alongside him made me better.
Cool air kissed my spine as I slid off my leather jacket and placed it in the circular booth. My dress was long-sleeved with a low back that showed off the tattoos along my spine and hugged my hips before ending mid-thigh. It was pink and shimmery too, which made it a favorite for nights like this. I wore loose black pants and a boxy white jacket as a uniform sixty hours a week; any opportunity to glamour out and feel like Barbie, I took full advantage of.
As I turned to sit, Gabe emerged from the crowd with our drinks. His gaze locked on me, roaming the full length of my body, down my bare legs to my heels, his throat moving on a swallow.
My skin heated, but not with self-consciousness. I liked the way he looked at me.
I liked looking at him too.
His usual sweats and workout clothes were gone, replaced with the sexiest-fitting Henley I’d ever seen and a snug pair of black jeans to match. Add to that the scent he brought with him as he slid into the booth, and it was enough to make goose bumps erupt along my body. The smell of something clean layered with something masculine. Sandalwood maybe.
Whatever it was, I breathed it in, and my tongue went heavy with the urge to lick. I forced down a groan.
I wasn’t supposed to want to lick him. We were here as friends and friends only. A mutual exchange of helpful contributions to each other’s business ventures.
This was not the time for my horniness meter to skyrocket into the red.
“What’s the verdict on the food?” he asked, stretching one arm across the back of the booth and taking his drink with the other. It shouldn’t have been attractive, but it was.
Everything about the way he moved was. Like he was swimming through air, effortless and confident yet smooth and controlled. I wanted to curl up with a pillow and watch him do it naked.
Which was another temptation I needed to rein in. No licking andnonaked thoughts.Just focus on the food.
I turned my attention to the card stock, skimming over the words I’d already studied on the website. “The menu looks fun. Some of their flavor combinations will be interesting.”
“What should we order?” He shifted closer to look at the menu, and his hand brushed my leg.
I stiffened.
“Shit, sorry,” he said, snatching it away.
“No, I—” I swallowed against the sparks still firing through my body from the touch. “It’s fine.”
My voice was too tight. Too strained. I tried to relax, but it was as if someone had turned me into a wind-up doll and cranked me to my limit.
Being here with Gabe felt different, and not just because of our clothes. The restaurant itself was sexy: the lighting dim but warm, the music sensual with a steady bass, and the booth small enough to feel private. All of it charged me to the point of shocking anything I touched.
I’d never felt this electric with anyone. Definitely not Patrick, who had been as timid at initiating sex as I was. So much so we’d waited a whole year into our relationship before actually fucking.
Not that the word “fucking” really fit. The sex between Patrick and me had been as measured and predictable as the rest of our relationship. Which, in fairness, was exactly what I’d liked about it.
Patrick had come into my life right after my grandma had died when my world had become untethered. He’d been the accountant in charge of Nana’s finances and helped me manage it all in the months after she was gone. When he’d expressed an interest in more, I’d clung to it. Moving through life back then had felt like sitting in a spinning teacup that kept going faster and faster, and for three years, he was the stable fixture I held on to.
