Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 345(@200wpm)___ 276(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Once she’s got it in her hand, I go back to what I’m supposed to be doing.
I tug the dark blue apron out, instantly noticing that the tag on it indicates it’s a medium.
I’m six five and weigh in at around two hundred if I’m on track with diet and working out.
I don’t want to rain on Afton’s gift parade, so I loop the apron around my neck before I tie it a couple of inches above my waist.
“How do I look?” I call out to her.
Her gaze trails from the flowers to me before her mouth falls open. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “It’s snug. I’m a pretty big guy.”
Her hand leaps in the air so she can point a finger at me. “Oh no…Luke…I wouldn’t. That’s not…”
I finally glance down at the front of the apron. I may be reading what’s stamped across it from the wrong angle, but the message is clear.
Uncontrollable laughter rolls out of me.
I don’t know Afton well, but something tells me she didn’t specially order this apron for me.
“Eat my meat,” I recite what’s written in bold white lettering on the apron.
“No,” Afton snaps the word out in the middle of a giggle. “That’s not supposed to be there.”
I tug it closer to my chest. “It doesn’t suit me?”
Her gaze darts up to meet mine. “I didn’t say that. I mean it’s…I’m sure that your meat tastes…wait, no…I wanted to say that…”
I save her from stumbling over more words. “I take it that this isn’t my apron?”
She rushes toward me. “I picked it up this afternoon. I gave the woman working at the novelty shop my name. She went into the storeroom to grab it for me.”
I watch as she picks up the gift bag to read the attached tag. “Neil Affer.”
That sets my head back in laughter. “I guess Neil Affer is looking for someone to eat his meat.”
A blush creeps up her cheeks as she laughs along with me. “The apron I ordered for you was a large, and it said Chef Luke on it.”
“I’m going to keep this one.” I pat the front of the apron I’m wearing. “Neil Affer is on his own.”
Slapping a hand over mine, Afton looks into my eyes. “I’m sorry for the mix-up.”
I stare at her. “I’m not. It’s fucking funny, and I needed the laugh.”
She tilts her head to study my face. “Are you ready to cook?”
If it means a few more hours with her, I’m ready for anything. Nodding, I scoop her hand into mine. “Absolutely.”
Chapter 21
Afton
Mortified.
That’s not a word I use often, but dammit, that’s what I felt when I saw the apron tied around Luke.
I should have checked the label on the bag before I left the store earlier. Instead, in my rush, I’d grabbed it, thanked the woman at the counter, and ran out of there.
I wanted to get home to shower and change clothes before Luke arrived. That, in itself, was a production. The shower was soothing and relaxing, but I tried on almost everything I own when it came time to choose something to wear.
Then I scolded myself.
Luke is in love with his ex-girlfriend. He’s here because he wants a cooking lesson, not a hook-up. Once I reminded myself of that, I tugged on my favorite pair of denim cut-offs and put on a blouse that I bought last summer.
I tied my still wet hair into a ponytail, applied a bit of makeup, and that was that.
“I think Marti is going to be impressed with this,” Luke says after he takes a bite of the dish we prepared together. “It tastes better this time.”
He’s right.
The addition of fresh basil was his idea. He spotted my herb planter outside the kitchen window, so he darted into my bedroom to go out to the patio to grab some.
I was grateful that I’d taken the time to shove all of the clothes I’d tried on back into my closet.
“It’s delicious,” I affirm with a nod of my chin. “You were a perfect student.”
That lures a smile to his full lips. “I have to thank my teacher for that.”
Bowing my head, I fight off the urge to smile too. I’ve never been a flirt, but this feels like we’re edging toward that.
I can’t forget that the man is nursing a broken heart.
“Tell me about your work,” he says in a deep tone. “I’m fascinated by the fact that you wear so many hats.”
I playfully tug on the end of my ponytail. “I’m not sure I wear any hats. I think I lucked out in some ways. I learned a little about a lot of different things, and so far, it’s working out for me.”
He leans back on the stool he’s sitting on. “I think you’re brilliant.”
Resting my elbow on the island, I purse my lips. “You do?”