All of my hope deflates when I hear the sigh that escapes her. “I expect to be working until at least eleven. I’m shooting for a private chef.”
Man or woman?
I don’t know why that pops into my head, but I keep it to myself. I’m not a territorial guy. I’ve never felt a stab of jealousy. Hell, the day Brooklyn married Dennis jealousy wasn’t on my radar. That was strictly a combination of confusion and regret, which has slowly subsided and been replaced with indifference.
“Do you know who Porter Knight is?”
You can’t stroll through Times Square without noticing the larger-than-life billboard flashing an image of Porter Knight’s face across it. I should know. I take that route every time I’m heading to the subway for a shift and again on my way back home.
The guy is a rock star in the culinary world. That fits since he was an actual rock star before he traded in his guitar for a set of knives.
I nod. “I’ve heard of him.”
“I’m doing some shots for a teaser for an upcoming project of his.” Her gaze wanders over my face. “I’ll probably be tied up most of the night. Joel usually helps with assisting duties, but he had a callback for an audition for a TV show, so I’ll be on my own.”
I should ask about Joel’s acting gig, but I see an open door that I need to run through before it slams shut, and I miss my chance.
“I can lend a hand,” I offer.
She eyes me up. “You want to help?”
I take a step closer to her. “I don’t have any experience, but I’m good with directions, and if a fire breaks out, I’m the man for that job.”
Her top teeth scrape over her bottom lip as she studies my face.
Fuck me, she’s hot.
“I can pay you what I pay Joel.”
“No.” I wave that notion away with a swat of my hand in the air. “I’ll tagalong as a friend. Whatever you need help with, I’ll be there to take care of it.”
“As a friend?” she repeats.
I just fucking friend-zoned myself again, but I get time with her tomorrow, and a bonus is that I’m about to witness her in action as a food photographer and stylist.
I nod. “You tell me where to be, and I’ll show up on time. Do I need to wear the apron you got for me?”
A laugh falls from her as her cheeks plush pink. “I’ll pick up the Chef Luke apron tomorrow. I think I’ll toss out the other one. It’s too small, and besides, that caption on it is…”
I cut her off because there’s no way in hell I’m letting her get rid of the Eat My Meat apron. I sense it’ll put a smile on her face if she sees me wearing it again. “I’m taking it with me.”
“You are?” Surprise fills her expression.
“It’s mine.” I jerk a thumb over my shoulder to where I placed the apron on the counter before we sat down to dinner. “It’s going home with me.”
I wish to fuck she was going home with me too, but since I just reiterated that we’re strictly friends, I’ll take a win wherever I can get it. Knowing that I’ll be seeing her tomorrow night feels like I just won the fucking lottery.
“I’ll text you the address of the shoot tomorrow,” she says quietly. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I am, too, more than she knows.
Chapter 25
Afton
“Porter Knight and Luke Jones in the same room?” Joel fans a hand in front of his face. “That’s a level of heat no woman can handle.”
Pushing my credit card into the front pocket of my jeans, I laugh. “I can handle it.”
Joel winks. “Your life has taken a hard turn in the right direction since you dumped Warren. I couldn’t be happier for you.”
Taking a seat next to him at a table in this crowded café, I chuckle. “Work is busy. You and Nelson are happy. I’m well. I’d say it all turned out for the best.”
Joel’s gaze wanders past me to the line of people waiting to place their morning coffee orders with one of the baristas. Palla on Fifth is our favorite place to stop in for coffee. We don’t come often, but when we do, it’s always packed with New Yorkers craving a perfect cup.
“Add that you’re spending the evening with two hot, available men. I’d say that’s the best part of your new life.”
“My new life?” I question before I take a sip of coffee. “I’m still living the same life I always have.”
“No.” He leans an elbow on the table. “Before you broke up with Warren, you were living a life that was suffocating you.”
Suffocating.
I’ve never used that word to describe my life, but it did feel that way at times. I may have taken my own route to earning a living, but I knew that my parents wanted me to marry Warren. They made that very clear whenever I saw them.