Imperfectly Delicious (Imperfect Series #6) - Mary Frame Page 0,39
at all, considering most of my focus and blood flow is contained on my aching erection. Watching her laugh, unrestrained, her clothes a total mess, and yet still as beautiful as the most imperfect and enticing thing in the world isn’t helping the problem.
“It’s not that. This is a bad idea.”
Something in my chest aches. A bad idea? Not to me. Not at the current moment. As a matter of fact, touching her is the best idea I can think of, but I can’t tell her that. Not without her giving her the upper hand. And even though what she’s saying is exactly what I was thinking myself, hearing the words still stings.
“Is it a bad idea, though?” I throw it out there like it’s a joke.
She watches me carefully and then her eyes lower. “Besides the whole trying to commandeer my spot—which is enough on its own—I’ve dated chefs before. It never ends well.”
I should let it go. She’s right. I can’t be with someone I’m actively trying to…get rid of—and I mean that in the least murderous way possible. And still, I can’t stop the words. “Maybe you were just with the wrong chefs.”
She’s already shaking her head in denial. Not meeting my eyes, buttoning her shirt up with hands that tremble slightly. I want to reach for her, hold her, but I can’t.
“It wasn’t just chefs. And it’s not only them. It’s me. I am too trusting. Too willing to love and ignore and let people manipulate me into believing they cared. Every boyfriend I ever had either cheated, lied, or both. My last serious relationship ended up being married. Hell, even when I first moved here and tried to date around like a normal person, someone tried to drug me. I’m just…never quite enough.”
“So, you’ve given up on relationships entirely? That doesn’t seem like you.” Scarlett is stubborn. That I know for a fact. And I don’t know exactly what it is, whether it’s the baking, the sweetness and honesty, or the playful happiness she exudes like a fragrance, but Scarlett is like a comfortable blanket. A sexy, alluring, comfortable blanket. She deserves love and romance and everything, if that’s what she wants.
“You don’t know me.”
She’s right, I don’t really know her. Another part of her little speech chews on me. Technically, I’m also a married man, but that’s different. It’s on paper only. I would be divorced by now if Marie wasn’t trying to delay the inevitable for as long as possible. But I don’t tell Scarlett. I doubt she would care either way considering we aren’t even dating.
More concerning to me is her self-deprecatory remarks. “Your past experiences…. Those have nothing to do with you and everything to do with them being assholes.”
And then I catch myself and the words register. I am an asshole. I have been, in her eyes and apparently everyone else. I nod. “Point proven.”
She’s shaking her head, reaching out a hand then dropping it to her side. “Wait, Guy, you’re not—”
“I hold no false illusions about myself. I know I can be…heartless.”
“Sometimes. But you’re human. And you’re not an asshole all the time, otherwise you wouldn’t have helped me tonight when you didn’t have to.”
“No. You were right before, I am. This changes nothing.”
She doesn’t get upset; she considers me, head half-cocked, and she smiles. The move is so angelic, sweet, with a hint of vixen. “I guess we’re still sworn enemies, then.”
“I guess so.”
“Sworn enemies who sometimes make out.” She winces and her brows pull together in concern. “Is that normal?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“You don’t do this with all your arch nemeses?”
“No.”
We exchange a glance, the air full of pent-up lust and regret, fighting it out between us.
“I better put everything away,” I say.
“I’ll help,” she says.
“Will you need help tomorrow with the set up?”
Her brows lift in surprise, and then she shakes her head. “No. Thank you, though. It’s probably best if we keep our distance.”
I turn away, grabbing some dirty pans to put in the sink. “You’re right.”
We clean up in silence, the void between us growing.
Chapter Eleven
Eating is so intimate. It's very sensual. When you invite someone to sit at your table and you want to cook for them, you're inviting a person into your life. –Maya Angelou
Scarlett
It’s almost a superpower—the ability to experience everything that can go wrong in the shortest amount of time possible.
The train wasn’t on time because of signal delays—which is something that happens all the time. I should have