This is probably why she hasn’t succumbed to my face and body yet. She thinks I’m an asshole. And some levels of assholeness are beyond redemption.
I grab the bagel before she can get to it. “No, no, you sit down. I’ll deal with this. Just enjoy this coffee.”
I pour her a mug, cut the bagel in half and toss the slices into the toaster. Within a few minutes it’s done, she has a plate of her own with a tub of whipped cream cheese and I have my egg whites and berries. We sit at the kitchen counter and dig in.
“Two for two,” she says, munching on the perfectly toasted bagel.
“Huh?”
“You’ve fed me two meals in two days. I’m trying to decide what to make of it.”
“Is there a reason to make anything of it? I mean, other than to think, Gosh, I have the nicest celebrity boss, ever. I want to kiss him and have his baby?”
She widens her eyes in mock amazement. “It’s possible to have a baby just by kissing somebody in America? That’d be a heck of a medical breakthrough.”
“Kissing is the prelude. Or maybe the food is.” Most dating seems to follow that pattern—wining and dining, maybe a movie, kissing and sex if everything goes well. Not for me, of course, but for most guys. That always seemed to be the case with my friends in high school, anyway.
But I doubt Yuna’s that type. She’ll probably require some kind of expensive gift at the least. What’s considered “expensive” in her circle?
“I’ve never had a guy feed me two meals in two days,” she says. “Think you’re the first.”
“Is that important?”
“Of course! Food is so important. America has a saying about the stomach being a shortcut to a man’s heart. But it’s the same for a woman.”
“You think so? That hasn’t been my experience.”
Yuna laughs. “Hello, woman here…”
“Yeah, but how many have you dated? Most women want cold cucumber soup, a crouton-less, bacon-less, cheese-less salad with fat-free dressing on the side, and blanched brussels sprouts. Kind of hard to think that that could ever be the path to anyone’s heart.”
“It’s obvious you’ve been buying the wrong kinds of food. I don’t think I could ever have warm feelings for someone who wanted to feed me brussels sprouts. You have to offer something delicious. Like Mexican food or bagels. It’s even a trope in K-romance.”
“K-romance?”
“Korean romance novels. The ones written by Korean authors, not translations. All the best heroes offer delicious food to the heroine. It matters more than”—she casts around for a suitably important comparison—“jewelry.”
“My exes would disagree, but… Okay. Why not?” I’m not going to argue over a foreign romance novel trope.
“I know you’re humoring me, but I don’t mind too much. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m right.” Amusement surges over her prim, superior tone. “That’s why men who are smart enough to either cook or buy good food get the girl. Who wants to be with a guy who doesn’t love you enough to feed you the best?”
“Uh-huh. Do these men also happen to be rich and good-looking?”
“Of course. Adhering to a household budget is not sexy. It isn’t what women dream about.”
“Ah ha!” Vindication! “You said it. Whether it’s a combo deal with food or not, money and good looks are the most important thing.”
“They’re among the important things, not the most important. Besides, I don’t need a guy who’s rich.”
“Because you already have all the money you could want.”
“Exactly.” She snaps her fingers. “But a guy taking care of me in a more personal way with food and stuff is not something I can really buy. So it’s far more precious.”
I put the last bite into my mouth and wash it down with the excellent coffee. The soft look in her eyes is driving me crazy, and I want to wrap my arms around her. “So. Wanna get to waltzing again?”