14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Harris zipped up his coat, tugging the collar tight against the biting wind. He and Gigi had just wrapped up a Gift Guide event, an evening with Santa and Mrs. Claus. Excited children had their pictures taken while sponsoring companies handed out door prizes and grab bags. As they left the lively venue, snowflakes swirled around them. The streets were festive, adorned with twinkling lights and holiday decorations, but it was Gigi who held his gaze. He wasn’t ready for the night to end, and his breath hitched when she brushed her arm against his, giving him a playful nudge.
“There’s this great bar nearby that has a really fun trivia night. Want to go for a drink?” she suggested, her eyes sparkling.
Harris smiled at the invitation, trying not to look like the Cheshire cat. “Do they have nachos?” He didn’t care if the bar served raw broccoli and Brussels sprouts.
“ Amazing nachos. Slathered in cheese.”
“Count me in.”
They walked through the snow to a bar on the corner of the block, a neon sign flickering through a frosted window. Inside, the atmosphere was lively and casual, with groups of friends huddled around wooden tables, laughter and chatter humming through the air. A long, polished bar stretched along one side, lined with high stools. Behind it, there was an extensive array of colorful, shelved bottles.
“Oh, good,” Gigi said, leading him to a table in the corner. “Trivia hasn’t started yet.”
As they shed layers, the server took their drink orders, and Gigi also asked for an order of loaded nachos. When the host’s voice came over the speakers, announcing that the first trivia round would start shortly, Gigi’s eyes gleamed with excitement.
“I’ve got the app on my phone. We can play together.” The enthusiasm in her voice was infectious, as she searched for her phone in her purse.
Harris grinned as they settled into chairs. “You a regular here?”
“Alice, Paige, and I have been a few times,” Gigi admitted, finding her phone and setting it on the table. “They have some great prizes. Last time I won a bread maker.”
“A bread maker?” Harris echoed, his eyebrows lifting, not sure if she was kidding.
“Yeah, a really good one. All the bells and whistles. Makes a mean sourdough. I love it.” She laughed, making Harris chuckle.
“Hopefully, we can top the bread maker tonight. Maybe a Crock-Pot?”
“Amazing. I need a new one,” she replied, and they shared a smile. The warmth between them was almost tangible. He wanted to scoop it up into his arms.
A few minutes later, the server delivered their drinks—hot toddies in glass mugs, each topped with a lemon slice and cinnamon stick. As they slurped warm sips, the host’s voice came over the speakers again. He explained the rules, and Gigi slid her chair around the table, scooching close to Harris. She held her phone up in front of him, showing him the trivia app.
“The faster we pick an answer, the more points we get, as long as it’s correct,” she explained. But Harris was more focused on how close she was. And how much closer he wanted her to be.
“Then I better make sure I can see.” He tugged her chair toward him. Gigi’s eyes widened, but she quickly relaxed, letting her knee fall against his thigh. A hot rush spread through him, mimicking his swallow of hot toddy.
“You any good at trivia?” She stared at him through thick lashes, as though he better say yes.
“Depends on the topic.” He tapped his fingertips on the table. Gigi’s proximity and playful gaze had his full attention. It had put him on edge, but in the best way possible.
She pursed her lips, like she had something to say, but kept her thoughts to herself when the start of the game was announced. Gigi raised her phone, and they both leaned in, waiting for the first question to appear. Harris was determined to impress her, so when the question popped up on the screen, he was beyond excited for a topic he knew well. He didn’t need to consider the multiple-choice answers.
Over the speakers, the host also read the question to the bar. “What was the title of the first novel written by Jane Austen?”
“ Sense and Sensibility ,” Harris and Gigi said at the same time, and Gigi immediately tapped the answer on her phone. They locked eyes. Gigi’s mouth popped open in what Harris hoped was awe.
“Are you a reader?” she asked. Harris nodded.
“I love to read,” he replied. “Nothing like getting lost in a good book.” Though staring into Gigi’s rich, chocolate eyes had him doubting his comment.
“What’s your favorite book?”
He grimaced, sitting back in his chair. “That’s an impossible question.”
“It’s an interesting question. The answer reveals a lot about a person,” she challenged. “You can only pick one. You’re stranded on a deserted island and only have one book to read. What is it? Tell me. Don’t think too hard about it. What’s the first one that comes to mind?”
“On a deserted island?”
She nodded.
“Probably Survival for Dummies .”
Gigi squinted, looking entertained by his sarcasm. “No, really. What would it be?”
“ The Great Gatsby . F. Scott Fitzgerald.”
She tipped her head, her silky hair falling to one shoulder. “Interesting.”
“How so?”
“Why is it your favorite?” She was analyzing him in ways he wished he could put words to. Before he could respond, she added, “For its exploration of the American dream and unrequited love?”
Harris froze, locking in on her, immediately wanting to pick her brain about the story and its themes. Was that the hottest thing he’d ever heard? “Yes,” he uttered. It was the only word he got out.
Gigi tapped her chin and pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “Very interesting.”
“It’s also my favorite because of the themes of love and loss. The exploration of the illusion of success. The complex characters and relationships. It’s poetic and symbolic. I get something new out of the story every time I read it.”
She bit her fingernail, looking intrigued by his comments. “That’s because you’ve lived more life every time you reread it. You’ve grown. The story resonates differently at different times of your life.”
“So true,” he said, captivated by her insights.
“I always thought the love story in The Great Gatsby was so haunting. Gatsby’s obsession with Daisy, the lengths he goes to for her . . . it’s heartbreaking.” Her fingers brushed his hand, ever so briefly, forcing something low in his stomach to melt.
“It is,” Harris agreed. “But it’s not just about their love. It’s also about how Gatsby’s idealized vision of Daisy and the past ruins him.”
Gigi sighed softly, her eyes flickering with understanding. “It’s a bittersweet story. The way he builds his whole life around a dream, only to see it crumble.”
“Tragic,” Harris added, watching her closely, thoroughly enjoying their back-and-forth commentary. It had his mind buzzing. The surrounding bar hummed with activity, but Harris felt as if they were in their own little world, peeling away the layers and lessons of a story he held close.
The host’s voice broke the spell, announcing the countdown to the next question. Gigi glanced at her phone and then back at Harris, a playful glint in her eyes. “Ready for the next round?”
Harris grinned, hoping there were a thousand questions in this game. “Absolutely. Let’s win that Crock-Pot.”
“Which Italian dish is traditionally made with arborio rice, broth, and saffron?” the host asked over the speakers. Gigi replied in less than a second.
“Risotto alla Milanese.” She spoke with confidence, her fingers flying to select the answer. Her phone screen went green, confirming she was correct.
Harris raised an eyebrow, impressed. “Wow. You really know your Italian food. Though I shouldn’t be surprised after the unbelievable soup you whipped up out of her purse.”
“It was a tote bag.” Gigi chuckled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Nonna taught me to be resourceful.”
“You kept us fed through the biggest snowstorm of the season. Very well fed. Now I dream of Italian Penicillin.” And of evenings in the kitchen with Gigi.
“I love to cook. It’s my way of showing love and making people happy.” Their gazes locked and Gigi’s cheeks reddened. Had she just insinuated love for him? Harris mulled it over, wondering if it was a slip of the tongue, or if there’d been some truth to it. Not that he thought she loved him, but he hoped she cared. Because he cared for her. Maybe more than he wanted to admit.
“You’re an amazing cook,” he said, breaking the awkward silence.
“Thank you.” Gigi smiled bashfully. “I probably shouldn’t tell this to my boss, but if I could make a living out of cooking, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” She picked up her mug, cupping it with both hands and holding it just below her mouth.
“What would you do?” Harris urged, leaning an inch closer, genuinely intrigued. “Start a restaurant? Sell at farmer’s markets?”
Gigi took a sip of her hot toddy, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve thought about starting a food delivery service. Imagine sending a package of homemade Italian goodness to a loved one when they were sick or just because—like sending flowers, but tastier.”
Harris grinned. “I love that idea.”
She thrummed her fingers on her mug. “I’d cook up all kinds of goodies. Comfort foods. Desserts. Chicken parmigiana, risotto, lasagna. Cannoli and panna cotta. And, of course, Italian Penicillin.”
“Of course. You can’t forget the Penicillin. It’s the cure-all and should be the staple in your offering.” His stomach growled at the thought. “Why don’t you do it? You could combine your love of cooking with your marketing skills. You’d be unstoppable.”
Gigi chuckled, a hint of shyness in her laugh. “Thanks. It’s just a dream for now.”
“Why does it have to be a dream?” His gaze locked on hers. “You’ve got the skills, Gigi. I’ve seen your marketing work. It’s top-notch. And your passion for cooking is clear. You could definitely make it happen.”
Gigi’s eyes softened, and she reached out, her fingers brushing against his again, sending a warm shiver down his spine. “You really think so?”
“Absolutely. I’d be your first customer,” Harris said sincerely. The desire to reach out and take her hand was overwhelming, but he pushed it down. Normally, he was confident and comfortable making the first move, but this was different. This was Gigi. Their relationship carried the weight of professional boundaries—he was her boss, and the last thing he wanted was for her to feel pressured into anything romantic. Not to mention, he didn’t want that for himself either. He wanted something true and real with her.
Harris’s heart bounded with Gigi near. He longed to bridge the distance between them, to kiss her, to be with her. But Harris needed Gigi to make the first move. He needed to be absolutely certain she wanted him to touch her, to kiss her, to explore the possibility of a deeper, personal connection.
Uncertainty gnawed at him, making him feel vulnerable in a way he hadn’t felt in years. For once, he couldn’t take charge. He had to wait for her, and the waiting was torture.
Thankfully, the server arrived with their nachos, distracting Harris from his agony and giving him a moment to recoup his thoughts. She slid a massive platter onto the table. There was a pool of creamy nacho cheese covering a mountain of tortilla chips, grilled chicken, black olives, and jalapenos. On the side, there were bowls of sour cream, salsa, and guacamole.
Harris leaned back, taking in the colossal size of the dish. A laugh escaped his lips. “Wow,” he exclaimed, a grin spreading across his face. “You weren’t kidding about the nachos being loaded.”
Gigi rubbed her hands together like she couldn’t wait to dig in.
“Enjoy,” the server said, setting down a stack of napkins that Harris was sure they’d need.
“Thank you,” Gigi replied, reaching for a chip. She lifted it, watching the cheese drip before sliding it into her mouth. “Oh my God,” she mumbled, her eyes fluttering. “These are the best.”
Harris joined her and immediately understood her elation. “I’m definitely getting heartburn tonight, but I don’t even care.”
Gigi laughed, and they spread the sour cream, guacamole, and salsa over their mountain of nachos.
“These are incredible,” Harris said, savoring the indulgent flavors right along with the company.
They’d made a small dent in the nachos when Gigi’s phone lit up again, announcing the next trivia question would be live soon. She licked cheese off her thumb, tidied her mouth with a napkin, and picked up her phone.
Harris took a swig of water and leaned close to Gigi, watching the countdown on her phone. When the question appeared, they both groaned.
Who holds the record for the most career passing touchdowns in the NFL?
“You have a guess?” Gigi asked Harris. “I have no idea.”
Harris read through the multiple-choice answers, but before he could even guess, some guy in the bar shouted, “Tom Brady! Duh!”
Gigi’s head snapped up like someone had called her name. Her expression tightened, and Harris followed her gaze, spotting a guy near the bar. His voice was obnoxiously loud as he went on about how Tom Brady was the greatest of all time, that no one could ever beat his record. Someone at another table shushed him. Gigi’s excitement and warmth immediately disappeared, replaced by a look of rigid dread.
“Gigi, you okay?” he asked, protective instincts flaring up.
She swallowed, continuing to stare at the football guy. “Not really. That’s my ex-boyfriend.”
“Your ex?” She didn’t confirm right away, and Harris’s stomach dropped. Did she still have a thing for him?
“Yeah, that’s Keith,” she murmured, her voice tight, before shaking her head and breaking her stare. “He dumped me on Valentine’s Day. Took me to my favorite restaurant, knowing he was going to break my heart. Then he left me. Alone. With the bill. I haven’t been back to that restaurant since. And they have a to-die-for manicotti.”
“He did what?” A surge of hot anger hit Harris in the gut, not understanding how anyone could do that, but especially to Gigi. “What a jerk.” He had worse names in mind, but kept his mouth clean. “Do you want me to take care of him for you?”
His question caught Gigi’s attention. Her sweet chocolate eyes slid to his. “Like what? Take him out back and give him a knuckle sandwich?”
“I would, if you wanted me to.”
She smirked, but shook her head. “He’s not worth it.”
Harris glanced at Keith. He was sporting a popped collar like it was 1999 and he lived in a frat house. “I feel like he’s worth it.”
Just then, Keith turned from the bar, cocktail in hand, and his gaze landed on Gigi. Surprise washed over him before he turned to grab a young blonde woman. Draping his arm around the woman’s shoulders, he pulled her with him. And they walked straight toward Gigi and Harris.
Gigi swore a few times before they got to the table.
“Gigi! Long time, no see!” Keith’s voice dripped with arrogance, and he teetered a bit. It was probably not his first cocktail of the night. The woman under his arm was dressed in an oddly short dress, considering it was freezing outside. She looked confused, but was smiling, crushed against his chest.
“Hey, Keith.” Gigi acknowledged him curtly, her tone devoid of the warmth she’d shown Harris all night.
“This is my fiancée, Apple,” Keith said, giving the blonde woman a hefty squeeze.
“Apple?” Gigi asked. Harris also wondered if he’d heard the name correctly.
“Yeah, like the fruit,” Apple bubbled. “Keith calls me his little Appletini. And he’s my Keithy-poo.” She laughed, staring adoringly up at Keith. Harris cringed.
“We’re celebrating our engagement.” Keith reached down and tugged Apple’s arm up, practically shoving an enormous ring in Gigi’s face.
“Oh.” Gigi’s head jerked back, like she’d been pushed. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks. I can’t wait to marry this one.” Keith lost his balance and stepped to the side. He took Apple with him. “And you know how opposed to marriage I’ve always been. Right, Gigi?”
Gigi’s jaw tightened. The flash of anger and hurt in her eyes was unmistakable. At least to Harris. Keith, on the other hand, seemed oblivious. Or he was enjoying her pain. Harris sat up straight, disgusted at either option.
“I can’t believe I finally found someone to tie me down,” Keith continued, giving Apple a shake like she was a rag doll. “My little Appletini.”
Keith’s blatant insensitivity made Harris’s stomach roll, but he tamped down the urge to tell the guy to kick rocks. Instead, he leaned closer to Gigi. He placed a reassuring hand on her arm, wanting her to know he was here for support.
“Congratulations,” Harris said evenly, keeping his tone civil. “We were just in the middle of trivia,” he added, cuing Keith and Apple to go about their way.
Keith’s eyes flicked to Harris, sizing him up. “Who’s this?” A smug smile played on his lips. Harris’s fingers itched to whack it off.
But before Harris could answer, Gigi replied with, “This is my boyfriend.”
Harris’s heart stopped. It took a second for Gigi’s words to register, but when he caught her gaze, it was all the confirmation he needed. Through a silent stare, Gigi pleaded for him to play along. A surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins, and he turned his head, meeting Keith’s entitled gaze head-on.
“That’s right,” Harris chimed in with a wide smile. “I’m Gigi’s boyfriend, Harris.”