“Oh, wow, so these are the famous samosas,” she said. “They'd better be as good as you've hyped them up to be or I'm gonna be highly disappointed. Maybe even pissed.”
I laughed. “Do I even look remotely worried? They’re so amazing I’ll pay for dinner if you don’t like them. I'm that confident, Brooke.”
“You’re already paying for dinner,” she joked.
“Valid point. But still, Mr. Patak knows a thing or two about putting together a quality samosa. You won’t be disappointed, I can tell ya that.”
“Well, I guess there's only one way to find out, isn't there?” she said with a smile.
We dug in, completely forgetting about the blast from Brooke’s past seated in the back of the restaurant.
Chapter Fifteen
Brooke
I had to admit I was enjoying my time with Emerson, but the memories that surfaced when Ben and Jess walked into the restaurant still held a sting of pain. Somehow, opening up to Emerson about what happened with Andrew eased that sting. I wasn’t even sure why I had been so candid with him, but once I'd started talking about it, the words gushed out. When it was all said, I'd told him everything. Everything! So much for my resolve to keep my guard up and keep my distance. This man was an enigma. One minute, I was certain he was a player and the last person I should trust with anything, the next, I felt I could pour my heart out and it would be completely safe with him.
Which is exactly what I did. Part of me was beginning to regret that.
A little.
But part of me that wasn't regretting it. A part that was actually glad I opened up. Talking about it felt good, almost liberating. Emerson had listened with such compassion that it was pretty tough not to feel even more attracted to him than I had prior to the venting session.
Normally, being more attracted to a guy because he exhibited admirable qualities wouldn’t be a bad thing. But this wasn’t a normal situation. Being attracted to Emerson was a problem because he seemed like the exact type of guy I was trying to avoid. The kind who would tell me there was nothing going on with him and Melissa, then jackhammer away at my bedroom wall with her until ungodly hours of the morning. Not to mention the other girls who came to the parties he and Chris always threw seemed to be just as into him as Melissa.
Granted, I'd seen a totally different side to Emerson on several occasions with his passion for science, his commitment to our lab work together, his interest in Game of Thrones, and his gentlemanly nature, but it was a side I'd never expected to see. It was side that was so much more decent than I'd imagined.
But the parties. The girls. His appalling friend, Chris. The drinking.
I wasn't sure what to make of any of it. Part of me wanted to confide in him, open up even more. It was obvious we had a connection of some nature. There was no denying he felt a pull to me as much as I did to him. Magnetism was the word that came to mind. Like it or not, I was drawn to him. What I wasn’t drawn to were the red flags, the warning signs that kept flashing in my face, keeping my suspicions on high alert.
How could I put my trust in a man who may very well do the same thing to me that Andrew did? I wasn’t going to put myself in a position to be betrayed again. My heart was still healing and I had no intentions of rushing the process.
I shook my head and pushed hard against my temples as I pulled myself from my thoughts and back into the moment. I took a bite of the samosa before me and groaned a little. They were actually that good.
“So, you're a samosa fan now, huh?” Emerson challenged.
I tried to talk through the mouthful of food. “They're great. I'll have to Google a recipe.”
“I've tried to make 'em. You really do have to get the right ingredients. I'm talking authentic Indian stuff.”
I’d kind of forgotten about the curry Emerson had made and brought over. He was an excellent cook. Yet another selling point in his favor. “I get what you're saying,” I acknowledged. “If you don't have the right ingredients, sometimes it just doesn't come out like it should and it ends up missing that…” I couldn’t quite think of how I wanted to explain what I meant.
“That certain something that makes the dish unique, that gives it its signature flavor or texture. Crucial elements!”
“Have you ever considered studying to be a chef?” I asked. “It seems like you're really passionate about cooking.”
“I guess I am, but I'm not quite into it enough to go to culinary school. Cooking is more of a hobby than something I would do as a profession. Science is where my heart is. That's the field I wanna be in after I graduate.”
I looked over Emerson’s shoulder as he talked and panic shot through me. Ben was walking toward us and he'd spotted me. “Shit,” I muttered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ben's coming this way! Shit! I don’t want to deal with this. What am I gonna do?”
“Tell me this quickly: what does Andrew do? How old is he?”
“Huh?”