Chapter 12 Daniel
DANIEL
With my ass baking in the sun, I waited for Elliot outside.
It had been thirty minutes since he’d left to change clothes, and there was still no sign of him.
Could it be that he’d lied about coming with me?
Only now realizing that that might be the case, I pushed back from the car I leaned against and was ready to go check inside when he showed up.
Wearing the cutest pair of tennis shorts that showed off his beautiful, long legs and a baggy T-shirt, Elliot strolled down the pathway as if it were a catwalk.
His dark hair was hidden under a white baseball cap, and he also wore a pair of dark sunglasses.
And while it was a shame not being able to see his face in all of its glory, the crew socks he wore compensated for it.
There was something sinfully sexy about socks that reached above the ankle that perhaps had to do with all the jock porn I used to consume back in my youth.
I vividly remembered this one tape I ended up ruining with the amount of replays, of a cocky football player fooling around with his coach in the locker room.
But back to business. Remembering my promise to Elliot, I didn’t say a word as he stopped by the car.
Instead, I got behind the steering wheel and waited for him to join me in the passenger seat.
I checked the rearview mirror when I heard the door to the back seat open and watched as Elliot climbed in.
Oh, for Christ’s sake. He truly was keen on making me his driver.
I smiled at the thought while glancing at him through the rearview mirror.
Working overtime to ignore me, Elliot pretended I wasn’t there as he gazed out the window, wholly immersed in his thoughts.
What wouldn’t I give to get inside that head of his…
Probably way too much. But perhaps I should wait a bit longer before getting ahead of myself.
After all, for one afternoon, I was nothing but his driver.
So, without further ado, I turned the keys and started the Bentley.
Since my passenger had no intention of engaging in small talk, I decided to take the longer route to the farmer’s market, which went along the shore for a beautiful view.
Every now and then, I glanced at the back seat through the rearview mirror to steal a peek at him.
Gazing through the open window, Elliot looked mesmerized by the sights of the blue ocean, which was nowhere near as blue as his eyes.
I wondered if he ever looked at nature’s beauty and drew the same conclusion as I did—that he was much more beautiful than anything else on this earth.
After about thirty minutes, we reached our destination. I’d barely parked the car, and he was already out of it, sunglasses back on his face. Shaking my head, I climbed out myself and went to take out a grocery bag from the trunk.
“So, where do we go first?” I foolishly asked, only to be answered with a grunt.
Very well, then.
Without bothering to glance my way, Elliot began walking.
Not about to protest, I zipped my lips and followed him like a good little boy.
If anyone else were to treat me this way, it was safe to say they’d regret it immediately.
Not Elliot. Somehow, I loved how this young guy had me wrapped around his little finger without even saying a word.
From his sassy attitude to his glare, Elliot had me charmed.
And that was without mentioning his pout, which drove me out of my mind with how adorable it was.
We passed by a few vegetable stands until Elliot chose one.
I had no clue why he settled for this specific stand, as they all looked the same, but he seemed pleased.
His eyes scanned the products before he grabbed a bunch of green herbs.
After smelling them, he brought them to the farmer who owned this stand.
Only then did Elliot turn to look at me, and understanding the message, I pulled out my wallet and paid for his precious parsley.
Once done, Elliot put it in the bag I carried before quickly moving on to the next booth, and that was how this shopping spree went on—him picking what he wanted and me paying for it.
Only in Elliot’s case, his shopping spree summed up to carrots, onions, and fresh thyme.
And yet, if you considered his serious expression and the time it took him to choose each item, you could mistake him for buying jewelry on Fifth Avenue.
I didn’t mind it, of course, as I found great joy in watching him do his shopping.
It was charming to see him lingering on each carrot he picked before carefully putting it in the bag as if not to hurt it.
For me, it was all just produce. For him? It was a whole world.
After buying a bottle of wine and some herbs he insisted were important for the stew, Elliot pulled out a small note from his pocket and read through it. “Mushrooms. I need mushrooms,” he said, shoving the note back in his pocket and looking around the busy market.
“They’ve got some over there.” I pointed at a booth to our left, happy when Elliot turned to look.
“No. Those are not good,” he said and started walking.
“How come?” I asked while trying to keep up with him.
Surprisingly, he chose to answer me.
“Button mushrooms are flavorless. You could cook using your shoes and you wouldn’t notice the change.” He huffed when I chuckled.
“Aren’t all mushrooms the same?”
Elliot gasped and turned to frown at me over his shoulder. “How can you be so silly?”
The word “silly” in French was stupide, sounding like stupid. That was probably why bystanders just gave us an odd look. Amused, I decided to push Elliot more on the subject.
“Because it’s just a mushroom?”
“Just a mushroom? Oh my God.” He shook his head. “There are thousands of different kinds of mushrooms. You have shiitake, which are very savory and unique. Porcini, those have a nutty aroma. Chanterelles are almost like fruits, and of course, truffles, their flavor is… extraordinary.”
For an American who didn’t know French, what Elliot just said might have sounded like gibberish, but to me?
To me, it was poetry. Especially with how he pronounced the word extraordinaire, which sounded so melodic in his language, it was unfair.
Who knew mushrooms could drive so many emotions out of a man?
“Very well, then. I’ll make sure not to underestimate mushrooms ever again,” I said while holding his stare.
Elliot nodded.
“Good.”
“So which one are we looking for now?” I asked as he turned back around and continued walking. “Shiitake? Porcini? Truffle?”
“Cremini.”
Taking my chance to have him speak more, I asked another question.
“What do they taste like?”
“Very earthy, but not too much. They are wonderful to cook with. My maman used to pick them herself, and I always tagged along as a kid.”
“That sounds lovely.” I smiled while watching his back. “Are you close to your mom?”
Elliot’s shoulders tensed before he took in a deep breath. “I thought you promised not to talk to me.”
“I did, but you got carried away speaking about mushrooms.”
“Not true. I just wanted to educate your American brain.”
“What’s wrong with being American?”
“You think you know it all.”
Feeling offended after he’d just insulted my whole nation, I frowned. “That’s not true—”
“There.” He cut me off and strolled toward a stand at the end of the market.
It was filled with mushrooms, which all looked the same to me but not to Elliot, whose eyes shone as if he were looking at a million bucks.
“How do you know which one is good?” I asked.
Elliot picked up a mushroom and held it before me. “You choose one that’s full and firm.” As he spoke, he got closer to me until we were almost squeezed together. “You see the surface? It needs to be dry, but not too dry. Here—” He grabbed my hand and brought it to touch the mushroom.
With his eyes focusing on our hands, Elliot moved my fingers along the mushroom, letting me feel it.
“See how smooth it is?” he asked, voice soft.
“Yes,” I said, only I was referring to the softness of his touch.
“Incredibly so,” I added as my voice dropped an octave, and my heart raced a bit faster.
It took Elliot a few more seconds to realize what I meant before he dropped his hands from mine.
His whole face painted red, and he quickly lowered his baseball cap to hide his reaction as he went back to pick his mushrooms.
After a long hour of shopping, we got back to the car.
I placed the groceries in the trunk while Elliot supervised me, making sure I treated his beloved ingredients with great care.
I probably did a good job because this time, he chose to sit in the front seat instead of the back.
Although he still kept the cold attitude and refused to look my way.
I guessed it would take some more groveling before he’d agree to forgive me, and I was all but willing to wait.
Deciding to fill in the silence with some music, I turned on the radio. Some pop song came on, and I was about to switch stations when Elliot stopped me.
“I love this song,” he said and immediately reached to turn up the volume.
“You do?” I frowned at his musical taste. It wasn’t bad; it was just… different from what I’d expected.
“Yes! Who doesn’t love Britney?”