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“You’re funny, you know that?”

“Funny weird or funny ha-ha?”

“Both.”

“Thank you. It’s totally what I was going for.”

He laughed, then took the empty glass from her hand, refilled it, and took a sip. “You want to know what really happened with Victoria?”

She nodded.

“She gave me an ultimatum. Either we get married or we break up.”

“Ouch. Okay, so you’re not ready to get married? Excuse me, but, how old are you?”

“I’m thirty-seven. But age doesn’t have anything to do with it. I didn’t want to marry her because just like you, I don’t want to marry anyone. Not now, not ever.”

“No regrets? No jealousy over the new guy?”

“Nope.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I didn’t say a part of me wasn’t sad. Of course, I miss her. But I’m not as selfish as you think I am. I want her to be happy. And she is.”

“How do you know?”

He rolled his neck to the side like he was uncomfortable. “Because I just know, that’s all. Are we through dissecting me?”

“For now,” she said.

“Okay. My turn to play Freud. If you don’t want to get married what are you looking to do then? Buy your food truck and roam around the country like some gypsy? Or, wait… I got it. You’re going to make a living breaking into other people’s houses to check out their security systems.” He smiled at his own little joke.

“Ha-ha.”

He studied her with renewed interest. “That’s really your dream job? Owning a food truck?”

“Why not? I can be my own boss and go anywhere I want and never have to worry about someone upping my rent or hiring wait staff. I’ll just do what I want to do—cook good food.”

“Like your macaroni and cheese?”

“And meatloaf sandwiches with gravy and mashed potatoes and pecan pie and—”

“And your pasta primavera? Stop.” He moaned. “You’re killing me.”

So, he wasn’t a total ogre. Anyone who appreciated her cooking that much couldn’t be all bad. “That’s how most people react to comfort food and that’s what I want to give them. Good food that makes people feel good, too.”

“But maybe isn’t so good for them? How many carbs were in that pasta you made the other night?”

“I don’t eat like that every day. Sometimes, you know, I eat rabbit food, too.”

“Rabbit food?”

“The stuff you eat. But I guess you don’t get to look the way you do eating my kind of food.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t play coy. I’ve seen you without a shirt on.”


Tags: Maria Geraci Whispering Bay Romance Romance