Who's the Boss? - Erin McCarthy Page 0,76
in public.
Sean shocked me by lifting me up into his arms. I screamed, then laughed. “Oh, you just had to one-up me, didn’t you?”
“Absolutely.” He gave me a sly smile as he carried me down the stairs. “We can spend the whole night tonight trying to outdo each other.” He winked. “Think about it.”
“Oh, I see the potential.” I wrapped my arms around my neck as he set me on the ground.
Sean gave me a toe-curling kiss.
Savannah started cheering. Her clapping had Sully imitating her. I grinned. Dakota was doing a fist pump. Gus was shaking his head in approval.
Nico appeared, looking angry.
“Well, that was an intriguing prelude to our winners’ announcement,” the female judge said, standing up. “And coincidentally, Bone is this year’s winner for best barbecue.”
Someone swore across the way. I saw Martin shaking his head in disgust.
“Congratulations to executive chef Sean Kincaid and his enthusiastic sous chef, Isla Kowalski.”
Enthusiastic sous chef? I was too happy to even be angry.
But Sean tilted his head. “Okay, my turn.” He vaulted back up onto the stage. “Excuse me, but I need to correct you. Isla Kowalski isn’t my sous chef. We’re both executive chefs. I couldn’t have done this without her and her amazing talent with wood.”
The judges looked at him like he was insane. “Sure, of course, thank you, Chef.”
Savannah grabbed my arm. “That was so romantic!”
I grinned. No, it wasn’t. But it was one hundred percent us. “Totally.” I took the stairs to the platform. “Thank you, Chef. But all the props truly go to you.” I turned back to the judges. “Chef Kincaid is brilliant with textures and flavors. He can coax moisture from the very toughest meats.”
Sean coughed. “Thank you, Chef.”
The male judge looked like he was contemplating getting a giant hook and pulling us off the stage.
Nico looked like he could chew glass. He became the hook with zero hesitation.
Before we could continue he came up on stage and ripped the mic out of Sean’s hand. He thanked the judges then gave us both a very encouraging nudge to get off the stage.
“What the hell is wrong with you two?” he demanded. “Have sex with each other six ways to Sunday, I don’t care, but don’t ever fucking do that again.”
“You don’t care if we date?” Sean asked.
“We’re not fired?” I asked. Sean snaked his fingers through mine.
“No and no, but only because we won the competition. But get out of my face. I can’t look at either one of your stupid grins. My God, you almost gave me a heart attack.” He was rubbing his chest. “In love. Whatever. Jackasses.”
Fortunately, right then, Dakota created the most unlikely diversion. She had brought Dante Marksman with her as her date, and she was trying to drag him by the hand past us.
“What are you doing?” I asked her.
“We can’t let the coach see us together!” she said, taking Dante behind the stage. “We just spotted him and players can’t date cheerleaders.” She looked up at him. “Or is it that cheerleaders can’t date players?”
He shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“I don’t know. But duck down.” She jumped up to try to reach his shoulders and push him down.
Because it was going to be really easy to hide a man who was six-foot-eight. Only Dakota.
I turned back to my grandfather. “Gus, this is Sean, the guy I told you about.”
“We already met,” he said. “Now go find a private corner and talk before you cause any more commotion.”
“Yes, sir. We can do that.” I looked up at Sean. “Where should we go? Nico said to take our stupid grins out of his face.”
Yep, I was officially giddy. Sleep deprived. Punch drunk with love. And possibly scarred for life by my public speech.
“We’re lucky if we have five minutes to pull ourselves together and act professional.” He pulled me behind a row of backup grills and smokers next to the stage. “But I just want to say that I’m really looking forward to loving you forever, Isla the Incredible.”
“In case you didn’t notice by my song or my eloquent and poetic words, I’m all in.”
The corner of his mouth turned up in a very sexy, very dirty, very Sean smile. “I’m going to be all in as soon as I get you alone.”
Yay.
“You’re going to have to learn to be friends with Scott,” I warned him, as he pulled me into his arms. “My cat is my first love.”
Sean kissed me softly. “I can do that,” he murmured. “Because I’m going to be your last love.”
I sighed into his kiss. “It was love at first sight.”
“Right. That’s what we’ll call it.”
About the Author
USA Today and New York Times Bestselling author Erin McCarthy sold her first book in 2002 and has since written almost eighty novels and novellas in the romance and mystery genres. Erin has a special weakness for tattoos, high-heeled boots, and martinis. She lives with her renovation-addicted husband and their blended family of kids and rescue dogs.
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