CHAPTER SIX
Laurence
“I like it when you call me ‘baby,’” she tells me.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
She’s lying in my arms, tracing little circles onto my chest. She only has the one pillow, so we opt to share and get really close. I don’t normally like after-sex cuddling, but with Claire, it’s incredibly nice. We’re both exhausted and thoroughly fucked out, but I want to stay awake with her and talk about stupid little nothings all night. If somebody had told me a year ago that I’d be spending an intimate night with my sous-chef, I would have laughed them out the room. But now, it doesn’t seem that bad.
“To be honest, I was expecting you to call me Chef somewhere in there.”
She raises an eyebrow and smirks. “You’d like that too much, you weirdo.”
I snort at her comment and roll my eyes. “Don’t kink shame me.”
Claire giggles. It’s sweet and bubbly and adorable. My God, how is it possible to fall in love with a sound? I brush my fingers through her hair and am surprised when she leans slightly into my touch. I’m locked staring into her big, gorgeous eyes. A part of me doesn’t want her to fall asleep. If she does, I won’t be able to keep looking into those deep green irises of hers that remind me of massive emeralds or a vibrant forest. Her gentle features are highlighted by the soft glow of the city’s glow that’s floods her room, bathing it in a golden hue.
“So,” she says eventually, her voice a soft whisper. “If we hadn’t had a change of plans, what would we be doing for our date?”
“Well, I planned on the end result being the same.” I wink at her, resulting in a cute little smile as a reward. God, I adore her smile. How could such a small act make me feel so complete? I want to make her do it again. Claire’s smile could light up even the darkest of rooms.
She nudges me with her elbow, hitting me in the ribs. “Cheeky bastard,” she chuckles.
“I was going to take you on a late-night picnic, actually.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I know this great little spot at the park. Perfect view of the city.”
“Maybe we’ll try again,” she suggests.
“You don’t think it’s too lame?”
She shakes her head. “It actually sounds wonderful. Probably a lot of fun.”
“Would you have preferred the picnic over this?”
She shakes her head, a few loose strands of hair falling over her eyes. I brush them out of the way, tucking her locks behind her ear. I can’t help but smile when I notice the tiny earring scar on her ear lobe.
“You used to have piercings?” I ask, curious.
“Yeah,” she confirms with a nod. “Back when I was going through a phase.”
I laugh. I couldn’t imagine it. “Goth, punk, or emo?”
“Aren’t they all the same?”
I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know what kids are into these days.”
“You’re not that old.” She brings her fingers to the healed over scar and rubs it absent-mindedly. “Vincent was actually the one who convinced me to get them.”
Vincent. The name echoes in my mind. It sits at the back of my throat, bitter and heavy. No, I don’t like that name at all.
“Oh?” I manage.
“Yeah. He wanted to buy me jewelry and things like that, but I told him I didn’t really like to wear any. He said he’d be ‘over the moon’ if I could get my ears pierced so he could buy me these earrings he had his eyes on.”
“And you actually did it?”
Claire gives me a shrug. I can tell by the way she casts her eyes down that she’s a bit embarrassed. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “He was my first serious boyfriend. I was kind of stupid when it came to him. Thought it was true love or some other bullshit.”
I take her hand and hold it to my chest, squeezing gently. I hate the expression she has right now. The bastard had hurt her somehow. I lean in a little closer and touch my forehead to hers.
“He sounds like a real asshole,” I tell her.
She hums in agreement, her tone practically vibrating in my ear.
“Have you ever done something stupid for a girl?”
“Tons.”
“Like?”
“I died my hair purple once.”
Claire bursts into the laughter. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true!” I exclaim. “My first girlfriend was training to be hairstylist.”
“And let me guess, you were her guinea pig?”
“Yeah,” I mumble sheepishly. God, it feels so good to make her laugh. “Why’d you end up leaving him?” I ask after a moment. She doesn’t answer me right away, which leads me to believe that I’ve crossed a line.
“Oh, er,” she stammers.
“You don’t have to tell me. Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m just surprised that you’re interested.”
I resist the temptation to tell Claire that when it comes to her, I’m always interested. But instead I say, “I was just curious.”
“I think I left because he wasn’t supportive,” she finally says after a beat. “When I graduated from Langton Culinary, I was trying really hard land a job at the Royale. I remember being really anxious waiting to hear back after I’d applied. But he kept telling me that I was wasting my time, that I should try other places. He said I probably wouldn’t get hired because I’m not good enough to work there.”
“He actually said that?” Anger wells up inside me when I hear this.
She nods. “He said, ‘I don’t know why you’d bother applying for the executive chef position. You don’t have the skillset to be successful.’ Eventually I just had enough of his negativity. I broke up with him the moment I found out I got hired. Of course, it was as your sous-chef, but I was just happy to have been hired at the time.”
“What a dickhead.” I wrap my arms around her and hold her close. I feel myself drifting off a bit, utterly comfortable and content. “If it helps, I think you’d make a great head chef.”
“You don’t have to butter me up,” she giggles, “I already like you.”
I already like you. The words echo in my head. A small sense of glee has me beaming.
“No, I’m serious. You’re incredibly talented. If I didn’t love my job so much, I’d step down and let you take the lead.”
Claire presses her lips to mine. She smiles into the kiss, closing her eyes as she hums in satisfaction. Her beautiful, long lashes tickle my cheeks. “That’s very sweet of you,” she says.
Sleep is starting to make my eyelids heavy when her cellphone suddenly goes off on the bedside table. Claire lets out a sigh and reaches past me to pick up the device. The screen lights up, blindingly bright. I twist a little to try and see, not because I’m trying to be nosy, but because it’s almost three in the morning and I want to know who’s keeping Claire awake.
“What is it?” I ask. Claire’s brows are furrowed slightly. I don’t like the look of it.
“It’s a text. From Vincent.” She sits up to properly inspect the message, her digits quickly typing in her password to unlock her phone.
Vincent. I’m really starting to hate the guy. I lean in and press my lips to her bare stomach, wrapping my arms around her slim waist. “Ignore it,” I tell her. “Lie back down, baby. Maybe we can go for a second round.”
“He says he just wants to talk.”
I shoot her an incredulous look. “Nobody texts this late at night because they ‘just want to talk.’”
“He says that it’s about the review he’s writing for the Royale.”
This catches my attention. I push myself up on my elbows and crane my neck to try and get a good view of the screen. Claire’s telling the truth, not that I doubted her. I just think it’s a bit ridiculous that her ex-boyfriend is messaging her so late. What if Claire had been asleep? This asshole could have disturbed her and woken her up.
“He wants to meet me for coffee tomorrow around eleven,” she continues to explain.
“That’s when we start prep,” I remind her.
“Yeah, I know.” She clicks a button the side of her phone, turning of the screen with an audible click. She reaches past me again to place the device back on the nightstand, deliberately rubbing against my bare chest with the side of her own. She grins at me, taking a hand and stroking my jawline. Claire seems to hover just over the scar that’s there, no doubt interested in how I got it.
“I fell off my bike when I was a kid,” I offer as an explanation. “Split my chin open.”
“I was expecting something cooler,” she admits with a cheeky smirk. “Like a knife fight or something.”
“What did I say?” I clear my throat. “I mean, yeah, it was a knife fight. I’m a badass.”
Claire throws her head back as she laughs, exposing the front of her neck. I fight the urge to leave hickeys all over just like the one before. But then her phone goes off again, and then again.
“Someone’s popular,” I chime, a little bitterness in my words. She picks up the phone once more and rolls her eyes.
“It’s Vince again.”
I frown. I can no longer hide my distaste for the man. “Is he drunk texting you?”
“I don’t think so.” Claire continues to scroll through the barrage of messages. It occurs to me suddenly that I don’t know how Vincent still has her number. I decide not to mention it, though. It’s probably not my place. She turns to me and says, “He’s pretty insistent. Do you think you can cover for me for an hour while I meet with him?”
“Seriously?”
“If it helps our chances of getting a good review for the restaurant, I think it might be worth it. Plus, I don’t think he’ll stop until I agree.”
Something ugly in the pit of my stomach starts to churn. The idea of Claire meeting with that awful excuse of food critic, an awful excuse for a man, her ex-boyfriend, makes me wildly uncomfortable. The center of my chest burns. I want to tell her that she shouldn’t go. Claire doesn’t owe him anything. I don’t like the idea of them being alone together, him and his greasy little moustache and pompous arrogance. But then I remember to breathe. I know she can handle herself.
“Okay,” I nod. “If that’ll shut him up.”
I watch as her slender fingers race across the screen’s touch keyboard. She sends off a message and is immediately met with a winking emoji and an emoji that’s blowing a kiss. I honestly want to hurl when I see them. But this seems to have done the trick. Her phone is silent for the rest of the night. She returns her phone to the nightstand and slips back under the covers with me. She kisses me hard, sliding one hand down my chest to my cock. I jolt a little at the sensation, surprised by her forwardness.
“Did you say something about round two?” she grins.
I kiss her back, sucking hard on her bottom lip. “If you’re up for it,” I answer.