The Boyfriend Designer - Christopher Harlan Page 0,51
speak. At first, I said the same things you’re saying—I can’t, who’s going to edit for me, I don’t have time. . .”
“And then?”
“And then she shook me by the shoulders—not literally, I would have cut a bitch—but she shook me by the metaphorical shoulders and told me to just shut up and go for it. So I did. And that’s where the Boyfriend Designer came from.”
As if by design, a buzzer sounds in the kitchen and Conor announces dinner is ready. He stands and offers me his hand to help me up from the couch. Helping me to my feet, he says, “I wasn’t sure what you’d be hungry for so I took a chance.”
Following him into the kitchen, I let my eyes travel over his perfect body. I know what I’m hungry for, but I reply, “I’m sure if whatever you ordered tastes half as good as it smells then I’m in for a treat.”
He glances over his shoulder and winks at me. “No, that comes with dessert.”
Be still my heart. I look on the counter and see a fresh coffee crumb cake on a cooling rack. I know I never mentioned my love of this delicious confection to him before but I know I mentioned it once or twice in my vlogs. He must have done his research, and I feel the wall crumble just a little more.
Conor motions to one of the two place settings set at the dining room table off the kitchen. “Please have a seat. I’ll bring dinner over.”
“Let me help,” I start to suggest.
“Absolutely not. You’re a guest in my home, and I’m capable of bringing dinner to the table. I am an alpha after all.” The smile on his face lets me know that he’s just joking so I concede and take a seat at the table.
“Whatever you’ve selected for dinner smells amazing,” I call into the kitchen.
“I hope you like it,” he says as he sets a small salad bowl in front of my plate, setting an identical one next to his plate.
“I see you don’t mind garlic breath,” I tease. He raises an eyebrow so I explain further, motioning to the bowls, “The Caesar salad.”
“Oh, oops.”
“No, its okay. I’m just giving you a hard time. I actually prefer Caesar to a traditional house salad.” I offer him a smile.
He winks at me before disappearing back into the kitchen to get dinner. He reappears moments later with a platter filled with the source of the delicious smells. He sets a platter of filet mignon with bacon wrapped scallops and roasted red potatoes between our plates, as well as a bowl of sautéed green beans.
If my mouth hadn’t been watering when I’d first walked into his apartment, it definitely was now. I couldn’t wait to dig in.
“Please, help yourself. Don’t be shy,” he says as he takes his seat opposite me.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I reply before pulling one of the filets onto my plate. I spear two of the scallops with my fork and add them to my plate as well. A pair of tongs appear in his hand as he watches me with fascination. I wink as I take the offered tongs to add some potatoes and green beans to my feast.
Chuckling, he puts his own plate together once I relinquish the tongs. “You may like to eat almost as much as I do.”
“I’m not afraid of food, and you just so happened to have guessed my favorite. I never shy away from a good surf-n-turf dinner,” I admit freely.
“I’ve always loved a woman not afraid to enjoy a good piece of meat,” he says then. I look up and see the unmistakable glint in his eye, my body immediately responding to his double meaning.
Just as he puts a piece of his filet into his mouth, I counter with, “I see you also enjoy a nice piece of meat in your mouth.” I can’t stop laughing as he practically chokes on his dinner. I can’t help myself. “Make sure you swallow. Its impolite to spit.”
“I’ll remember that,” he says, his voice harder than usual.
My body reheats almost immediately. “You do that.”
We continue to enjoy our dinner and our conversation flows easily – I could almost forget the circumstances behind our first interaction. We cover a range of topics and, before I know it, we’ve finished the food Conor had set between us.
He stands to clear the table and I immediately jump in to help him carry