Chapter 6
Alec
This lunch feels huge. It’s my first date with Coco, my first date ever. My heart is racing, and my palms are sweaty as I stop outside Coco’s front door.
I did some research after I asked her out, hoping it would put me at ease. Instead, I learned that lunch dates are considered lame to most. I wish I could change our time, but my schedule will be crazy until I finalize the menu at Palmer’s and get into the swing of things.
I take a deep breath and knock on her door. I hear her moving around inside, and a second later, the door swings open, along with my mouth.
Coco is wearing a dark red dress that ties at her waist, the V neckline showing a tempting hint of cleavage that has my cock standing at attention.
Her blonde hair shines in the sunlight as she smiles up at me shyly, her green eyes scanning me from head to toe.
As she steps closer, I catch a whiff of her sweet strawberry scent.
“You look nice,” she says.
I nod, trying to find words, but my tongue seems to be stuck to the roof of my mouth.
Get it together!
“You look stunning, Coco,” I rasp, my eyes straying over her curves.
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure where we were going for our date. Am I overdressed?”
“No, you look perfect.”
She blushes and ducks inside her apartment to grab her purse and keys.
I want to reach for her hand as we head down the stairs, but I’m worried she’ll swat it away.
“I’m over here,” I tell her, pointing at my car.
I open the door for her, and she slips into the passenger seat. Closing it, I jog around the hood and climb into the driver’s seat.
Coco glances across at me. “Where are we going?”
“I moved to town and bought Palmer’s Steakhouse,” I say. “I’m going to revamp it a bit, and I thought we’d go there today. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I’ve never been there.”
“Really?”
“No, it’s kind of pricey, and I was raised by a single mom. We were always scraping by, so we didn’t eat out.”
“Well, I’m glad to experience it for the first time with you.”
She smiles and turns to face me a little in her seat. “What about you? Your parents must be proud of your success.”
“You looked me up?”
She shrugs, averting her gaze out the passenger window. “Maybe. I wanted to make sure my cooking teacher was qualified to teach me.”
“And?”
“He is.” She looks impressed.
“Thanks.”
“Have your parents dined at every restaurant you’ve worked in?”
I shift in my seat. “Um, I never met my parents. I was given up for adoption at birth, but I was never adopted. I grew up in a couple of foster homes, and I doubt that any of them even remember me.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Alec. I didn’t read that in my search,” she says softly.
I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ve moved past all of that.”
We park in the parking lot of Palmer’s, and I hurry to open her door.
“You don’t want to use the front door?” Coco asks as I lead her around the back.
I laugh. “Sorry. I’m used to going in the back.”
She grins. “It’s okay.”
I relax as she takes my hand and tugs me toward the door. I lead her inside and through the kitchen, where I prepped our lunch earlier. I show her out to the front of house and our table.
“I’m going to get started on the food. Can I get you something to drink?” I ask.
“Just a water, please.”
“Coming right up.”
I run back into the kitchen and slide our lunch into the oven. “Can you finish this?” I ask my sous chef, Sarah.
“Yes, Chef.”
I thank her and grab Coco and me a glass of water before joining her at our table.
“So, what do you think of the place?” I ask as I slide into the chair across from her.
“It’s lovely. Very romantic.”
“Glad you approve.”
“You mentioned revamping it. What are your plans?”
“Not much out here. It’s solid. It’s more the menu and some staffing changes.”
“No more steaks at the steakhouse?” she teases.
I laugh. “No, we’ll still serve steaks, but I’m going to add a seasonal menu with local produce and offer a new range of desserts.”
“Have you already decided on the menu?”
“No, not yet. I’ve found some suppliers, but I’m stuck on the menu. That’s one of the reasons I’m here. I thought I needed to switch things up. The restaurant in New York is doing well, but I felt stagnant there. All the meals I came up with felt… flat.”
“So, you packed up and moved to the other side of the country, bought a restaurant, and started teaching cooking classes,” she fills in.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
Sarah comes out of the kitchen with two plates and sets them down in front of us. “Herb Roasted Prime Rib, served with a garden elephant garlic cream, squash blossom frittata, marinated Sungold tomatoes, and English thyme jus. Enjoy,” she says quietly before she bustles back to the kitchen.
Coco moans. “This looks amazing.”
I clear my throat, shifting in my seat. My pants are suddenly too tight.
“This isn’t usually on the menu here. It was one of my favorite meals from my place back in New York.”
“The one with all the Michelin Stars?”
“Yep.”
“Ohhh.”
I laugh at her wide-eyed appreciation. “I hope you like it.”
We both dig in.
Coco sighs happily. “It’s delicious.”
“Thanks.”
We eat in silence for a minute before I ask, “Does your mom still live here in town?”
“No, she moved away the second I turned eighteen.”
“What?”
“Yeah… we were never close. I haven’t spoken to her since she left town.”
I’m outraged that her mom could do that to her. “Where did you live?”
“I couch-surfed with friends for a bit before I found the apartment. I had a roommate for a bit before she moved out. That’s when I met Pearl. She moved in with me, and we lived together for a few years before she met her boyfriend, Wells. She lives with him now.”
“That was shitty of your mom.”
“Yeah, well, she was always shitty. Her bailing wasn’t a shock or anything.”
“Still.”
“Yeah, still,” she agrees.
“How did you start with photography?” I ask, lightening the subject.
“I had a photography class in middle school and loved it. I saved up for months to buy my first camera and never looked back. That was when I knew what I wanted to do with my life. How about you?”
“Some of the foster homes were kind of… spotty on food. I learned to cook because I had to. I started cooking for some of the other foster kids and realized I loved it. I liked feeding people, and I was good at it.”
“So you made a career out of it,” she finishes.
“Yeah.”
“You never wanted to do anything else?”
I shake my head. “No, it was always cooking.”
We share a smile and finish our meal.
“Ready for dessert?” I ask as I stand to clear our plates.
She laughs. “Always.”
I take the dishes to the kitchen and collect the chocolate cakes I prepared this morning.
We spend the rest of our date laughing. Coco tells me about some of her more difficult models, and I share some hell stories from my time coming up in the industry.
When we’re done, I take her hand, and we leave out the rear door and walk to my car.
“Are you working tonight?” she asks.
“Yeah, I’ll drop you off and head back.”
She smirks. “No rest for the wicked.”
I huff a laugh. “Nope.”
I park outside our apartment building and open her door for her. We walk up to her apartment and pause outside.
“I had a great time,” I tell her.
She smiles. “Me too.”
“So, you’d be open to another date with me?” I ask hopefully.
“Yeah.”
“I have Monday off. We can grab dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll text you,” I promise.
Coco nods, shifting on her feet.
Nerves hit me again, but I decide to go for it. I lower my head toward hers, closing the distance between us slowly, giving her time to pull back, but she doesn’t.
Her breath catches, and for one terrifying second, I think I’ve misread everything. Then her hand curls into the front of my shirt, and she rises onto her toes.
Our lips meet softly. Just a brush at first, warm and sweet, but it’s enough to make my heart pound against my ribs. I pull back barely an inch, searching her face.
“I really like you,” I whisper.
“I really like you too,” she breathes, tugging me closer.
I kiss her again, sliding one hand around her waist. Her lips part beneath mine, and every thought in my head disappears. She tastes faintly of chocolate, and I fight back a groan as I deepen the kiss. Coco’s fingers tighten in my shirt while my other hand comes up to cradle her cheek.
I’ve spent years creating meals people remember, combining flavors and textures until they’re perfect, but nothing has ever hit me like the taste of Coco. Nothing has ever made me feel so hungry and completely satisfied at the same time.
She makes a soft sound against my mouth, and it nearly destroys what little control I have left. I force myself to slow down, brushing my thumb over her cheek as I give her one last lingering kiss.
When I finally pull away, we’re both breathing harder than we were before. Her cheeks are pink, her lips slightly swollen, and she looks so beautiful that I almost forget I’m supposed to leave.
“Monday,” I whisper, then groan as she licks her lips. I want to kiss her again, but I need to get back to work. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
She nods and opens her door. I wait until it closes before I turn and jog back downstairs to my car. I can’t stop smiling as I pull out into traffic and drive back to Palmers.
As I step into the kitchen, I feel it. That familiar spark of inspiration. I know it’s because of Coco. I replay our date as I move to the counter and get to work on the new menu.