to light me on fire. “Don’t you have a kitchen in your apartment?”
I smile. “Yes, but I doubt you would have accepted an invite to my place for an apology breakfast. Sit.” I nod across the island to a stool and flip the eggs one more time before slipping them onto a plate.
Her nose wrinkles as she eases herself onto the stool. “What’s in that?”
“Not much.” I focus on dressing up her dish. I drizzle some fresh queso over her eggs, sprinkle some paprika across the top, then drop a couple pieces of fresh parsley to finish it off. “It’s just eggs, mozzarella, spinach, and mushroom.” Then I look up. “Is that okay?” I really should have asked her about any food allergies on her application.
Her mouth parts slightly when I slide the plate in front of her. “It’s fine, but who makes gourmet eggs at seven in the morning?”
I grin and turn back to the stove to finish my omelet. “Me.”
After unloading my food onto my plate, I stand across the island from her.
She peers up at me between bites and narrows her eyes. “You always stand when you eat?”
“You always talk with your mouth full?” I give her a close-mouthed grin and stick my fork in my eggs.
Her cheeks lift slightly and I would do anything to see her full-on smile. “So what’s the scoop with Mondays around here? What’s on the agenda?”
I do her the honor of swallowing my food before responding. “We’ll head to the market to grab the ingredients for some delivery orders. Saturday was the start of our month, so the rest of the week pretty much follows suit. You’ll run registration, create more welcome packets, and you’ll get faster at it all too, except we don’t have classes on Mondays. It’s kind of an inventory, cleaning, and prep day around here. Then there’s all of the usual daily stuff. Check the mail, voice mails, update the booking calendar on the website. And at the end of each day, I like going over everything we need to do the next day so that I’m not waking up surprised.”
“Sounds pretty laid back,” she says before placing another bite in her mouth.
“Usually, it is, but today will be more chaotic than normal.”
“Why’s that?”
“You remember that woman who was observing class the other day?”
She squints. “You mean Five-Star Faye? I never did ask you what she was doing here. Seemed like you two knew each other pretty well.”
I ignore the way Maggie studies me after her comment.
“Well,” I say, easing my way into the conversation. I’m not sure how Maggie is going to take it when she finds out that not only is Edible Desire a candidate for a television show, but that she is the prime inspiration for why there are a dozen or so women on their way to the kitchen right now to possibly cohost a show with me. “Faye initially came in a few months ago to check out my food in case it was a fit for her show. It wasn’t, but she thinks it could be a different type of cooking show.”
“Wow, Desmond, really? You’re going to have your own television show? That’s incredible.”
I bite down on my lip before deciding to polar plunge into the subject. “It would be, but she doesn’t think me alone is enough for great television. Ridiculous, I know.”
Maggie laughs softly. “I bet that was a blow to your massive ego.”
The way she teases me with her tongue between her teeth and amusement on her face revs me up inside.
“So then what?” she continues. “You get a cooking assistant or something?”
“Exactly. Faye already put a call out to casting agents, and she’ll be bringing some potentials by today.”
“Cool.” Maggie swallows her last bite of eggs and gets up from her stool. The plate in front of her is completely clean, causing warmth to spread throughout my chest. She liked it.
“Hungry much?”
She looks up, and her eyes widen after she realizes that I noticed. “Yes, actually. I don’t have food at my place yet.”
I stuff a final bite of food into my mouth and take the dishes to the sink a few steps away. “We’re heading to the market now if you want to grab a few things for yourself.”
“Sure,” she says. “Since you won’t be cooking my every meal after this week. Thanks for breakfast, by the way.”
I shrug. I decide to bite my tongue when it comes to who actually won the bet. She seemed