Dirty Chef

No, she wasn’t. “I guess so.” I killed the engine but let the radio play. I should’ve brought a jacket. The snow was winning, and the rain had stopped falling. Instead, flurries whirled in the wind. Lolling my head along the headrest, I faced Alessia as she hummed to the song. She was too fucking beautiful, all long dark waves, rich brown eyes, generous curves, and adorable beanies. Today’s beanie was purple, and they always had to match her knitted mittens. “Wanna slow dance in the parking lot with me?” I stole the title of the song, though my question was genuine.

And it made her smile. “You’re my favorite goofball.”

I chuckled under my breath and twisted my cap backward. She didn’t think I was for real, huh? “Come on,” I said and opened the door. Then I cranked up the volume, wanting her close to me for a beat. A beat, I could steal.

“Are you serious?” She grinned and blushed.

I nodded and got out of the truck, leaving the door open. We only had half the song left, and I didn’t wanna waste it.

I suppressed a shudder as an icy wind blew past the small lot, and Alessia met me on my side of the truck. I grabbed a mitten-covered hand and pulled her close to me, where she fucking belonged, and I smirked at her fumbling. It was so uniquely her. She was usually all grace, but sometimes… Sometimes she could trip over air and blush and stammer.

“So, we’re godparents now.” I dipped down and rested my forehead to hers.

“Yeah.” She exhaled shakily from the cold and smiled ruefully.

When the singer sang of making the most of what we had, I did my best to tune him out. It hit too close to home.

She grinned and let out a laugh, her breath misting, when I spun her around. Then I gathered her close again, and she swayed with me.

Holy fuck, I was gonna become desperate to keep what we had. I could feel it. An urgency crept up my spine, causing my brain to spin lies and plots to steal more from her.

Alessia made a face with her eyes closed. “I don’t want a stomachache to ruin the moment.”

Hence my not asking about her weird mood. She’d been emotional today—more so than what today’s occasion called for by her standard—and her period was due any moment. It was probably cramps she felt.

“I bought Milanos and the right box of tampons this time,” I said.

Her eyes flashed open, and the bewilderment was written all over her—for about a second until it dawned on her. “I completely forgot—wait. Is it weird that you know my cycle?”

I grinned and gave her another twirl. “Hazards of living with you, I reckon.”

Christ. A new song began. It was another slow tune that hit too close to home, and I stole another moment. I didn’t let her go. I would never be ready.

“You’re too sweet.” She laughed softly and stroked my cheek. “Not many have best friends who will buy them tampons.”

Eh. I fucked up her grocery lists every damn time she went shopping. I was always texting her shit to add to the list, and it’d made her forget what she needed for herself more than once. It was only fair I made up for it.

“What kind of Milanos?” she asked curiously.

I puffed my chest a bit, ready to show off my skills in Alessia trivia. “One orange chocolate and one double milk chocolate for when the cramps are at their worst, one box of raspberry chocolate for when you feel snackish at work—they’re hidden behind the register at the restaurant—and one box of chocolate mint because you want to like them so badly for some reason, but you never really do.”

She peered up at me and blinked, appearing dazed.

“Was that a top score or what?” I bumped my forehead to hers.

“Heh.” She snapped out of it and rested her forehead against my sternum instead. “Yup, definitely a top score.” She shivered violently as I stroked her lower back, and I figured it was time to head upstairs. Even in her fitted winter coat, she froze easily.

My stolen moment was over.

Five

Adam Grady

I skipped my morning run the next day and headed down to the restaurant as soon as I’d showered and dressed. Alessia was still asleep. I’d woken up in the middle of the night because she’d been rummaging around her bathroom for her painkillers. I’d helped her search, and I’d found them in the kitchen of all places.

I switched on the gas and found a playlist, earbuds in, and I had the restaurant all to myself.

All right, so breakfast was the first dish for this holiday menu. After some prep, especially with the dipping sauces, I got lost in my element. I bobbed my head to the beat of a country rock song and waited for my first batch of biscuits to be ready. Baking wasn’t my specialty, but I’d mastered what I needed to know in order to branch out with burgers. If it could be shaped like a bun, I wanted to know it.