He walked to the island, where Adele and I were, and placed the pan between us. Seared steaks dressed with red chimichurri glistened under the kitchen light, making my stomach growl.
Alexia joined us at the table, and with only two stools available, I jumped off mine and offered it to her. “Please, sit. You’re a guest.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to—”
“Rosie can sit with me,” Lucas announced.
Frowning, I turned around and found him holding a folding stool in his hand. “Where—”
“Found it behind a cabinet,” he said, unfolding its legs. “Just the one, so we’ll share it.”
“I don’t know…” I eyed him as he flopped down.
I couldn’t sit in his lap, could I? He had an injury I didn’t know the extent of.
As if he had a way to peek into my head, he gave two firm pats to his left thigh. “This one’s fine,” he said. “Now come here, Ro. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”
It was the determination in his gaze that pushed me forward. The way he looked at me like I’d be doing something for him if I gave him this one thing. So, I walked all the way to where he wasand I let myself fall on his lap. In a nanosecond, Lucas wrapped a strong arm around my waist and squeezed lightly. “Cronut you,” he said, so low I almost missed it.
And that code for thank you that was just ours, did something to me, something powerful and not at all expected. Something that made me wish it was code for something other than thank you.
I tried to focus on the amazing food laid out in front of us instead of on the man whose lap I was currently sitting on. “This all looks incredible, Lucas.”
I felt more than heard his sigh of relief, right there, very close to my ear. And my body immediately reacted to the contact of his breath against my skin. So much that he probably felt it because he told me, “Eat.”
“Oh Lord, these sweet potatoes.” Alexia moaned. “What’s this sauce? Yogurt with…”
“Roasted garlic, lemon, and tahini,” Lucas answered as he drizzled some of the sauce Alexia was praising over my potatoes.
Alexia stoked her mouth with a new bite. “You roasted the whole head with the potatoes. Then used it for the sauce?” Lucas nodded and she added, “Well played.”
And just like that, Alexia took over the conversation, interrogating Lucas about each and every step he had followed with the searing of the meat, the red chimichurri, and what I’d discovered was our dessert: rhubarb and pearmilhojas. Which happened to be an absolutely delicious twist on a Spanish dessert.
“Okay,” Alexia said once all the food was gone and the dessert plates were wiped clean. “I suspected you knew what you were doing, but I had no idea you were this good.”
Lucas answered with a grunt and a shift of his body that brought me further into his lap. I tried to shift away, but his arm secured me against his chest, every part of me that was in contact with every part of him coming alive.
“So, what’s your deal, Lucas?” Alexia pressed, while I tried to catch my breath. “You work at a restaurant back in Spain? Attending cooking school by any chance?”
Lucas let out an incredulous laugh. “None of that. I never considered cooking school. Never had… the time, I guess.”
“You could go, now. If that’s what you wanted,” I said, not able to help myself. “You’re an amazing cook, Lucas.”
His hand tightened on my waist, his body heat now impossible to ignore. His tone softened when he told me, “Thank you, Ro. But… I don’t know. I’m a little old for school.”
“You’re not too old.” Alexia’s eyes narrowed. “Where did you learn to cook like this? The all-butter flaky pastry from themilhojaswas divine and definitely not store bought. And that wasn’t your first time prepping a sirloin. I’ve seen sirloins beingassassinatedby people who attended school.”
Lucas’s palm fell on my thigh, making me catch my breath. “I learned from myabuela, my mother… I don’t know, everywhere. I’m self-taught, I guess. I like to experiment, try new things. There’s a wild amount of information online. So, I just… you know, learned on the go. Nothing fancy or worth comparing to someone with an education. Or someone with any real talent. My call is—wassomething else.”
I disagreed, Lucas wasn’t defined by one single thing, but I remained quiet and let my hand fall on top of his. He twined his fingers with mine, and I swore all my nerve endings flared at that simple contact.
Which was why I almost missed Alexia’s next words.
“I’m the executive chef of Zarato, so I know what I’m talking about. Youaretalented. Cooking school wouldn’t be a walk in the park, because it never is. But it’s not out of your reach.”
“Oh, whoa,” I breathed out. Turning to look at Lucas over my shoulder, I explained, “Zarato isthehotspot in the West Village. People wait months to get a reservation. I think it’s in the top three restaurants in New York right now.”
Alexia chuckled. “Top five, but the competition is savage in Manhattan, so you never know where you’ll drop down to when the next year rolls.”