Chapter 7
LAILA
Poseidon's pan sizzled as he added some onions to it.
Shortly after, he followed it with some fresh tomatoes.
Several other things went into the pan, filling the kitchen with a rich scent.
I wasn't exactly hungry after eating the fish, but it was still enough to make my mouth water, and for me to be desperate to eat whatever it was he was making.
It didn't take long until he set the dish down in front of me, and it looked as delicious as it smelled, with some baked feta crumbled over the top and the plump shrimp, which was perfectly cooked. "This looks amazing."
"Thank you," he said. "It's one of my favourite dishes. Though admittedly, I have a lot of them."
I laughed. "I do too. Every time I find a new favourite dish, I add it to the list, I don't replace anything. I hope my boss never asks me to do a top ten favourite dishes, or I'll have a difficult time writing the article."
"I'm sure you'd manage."
"I would, but it would be tough. So, what dish is it?"
"Garides saganaki," he said, the Greek rolling off his tongue in a way that made me feel like I could swoon. "And the Assyrtiko will pair nicely with it." He grabbed another bottle of wine and poured us both glasses.
"I'm going to have to be careful that the wine doesn't go to my head," I murmured.
"You don't have to drink more than this," he assured me. "You can take the rest of the wine home with you so that you can enjoy it with your friends."
"I can?"
"Of course. I got it for you to try." He smiled at me, and my heart fluttered in response.
This wasn't a date, but the tension in the air certainly felt like it might be one. There was certainly something about Poseidon that made me want it to be a date.
To distract myself from my thoughts, I dug my fork into the shrimp dish on my plate, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction.
The tangy tomatoes infused with onions and garlic contrasted beautifully with the creamy baked feta and the richness of the shrimp.
The dill cut through the rest of the tastes in a way I didn't expect, but it went well with the rest of it.
"This is really good."
"It's hearty food done right," he said. "There's a thing or two to be said about Greek comfort food."
"I'll take your word for it."
"I hope I can change that to you knowing," he said.
"Oh? And how are you going to do that?" I picked up my wine and took a sip. I hadn't tasted a lot of Greek wine before, but the bottles he'd gotten were making me want to try more of it.
His gaze fixated on my lips, and it took me a moment to realise that a droplet of wine had rested there. I swiped it away with my tongue, which only got his attention more.
Poseidon cleared his throat and took a sip of his own wine before answering. "By cooking you more of it."
"That's rather presumptuous of you. This isn't even a date."
"Perhaps not, but we could revisit the idea of a wine tasting at Dionysus' vineyard."
"That sounds like something that could take a while to set up."
"I could have him give us a private tour tomorrow."
I laughed. "That's probably a little excessive. Next Tuesday would be fine."
"I take it that you're agreeing to a date now?"
"Yes." I leaned back in my seat. "Tonight has been a lot of fun so far."
"It has," he agreed. "And good food."
"That's normally what makes a night fun for me," I admitted.
"That seems like a challenge." His voice dripped with promise, and I found myself swallowing hard in response.
Instead of responding, I ate some more of my food, not really knowing what to say. It wasn't as if I wasn't thinking about what it would be like to be with Poseidon. To feel his hands on my skin and his fingers tangled in my hair.
The kitchen heated up in a way that had nothing to do with food, and I found myself wishing that I had a cold bucket of water that I could throw over my head to cool myself off.
This was ridiculous. I was a grown woman, and I'd been around enough people to know how to keep my thoughts on the right track.
I finished my food, using the tastes to focus.
"That was really good," I said as I finished it, the tomato and garlic taste still lingering on my tongue. His food had been good when I came to eat the tasting menu, and at the Jinx event, but this had been better. This was comfort food. "Why did you choose this dish tonight?" I asked curiously.
He laughed. "Always the journalist."
My lips quirked up into a smile. "It's hard to turn it off."
"I made it because I like it. And when I thought about what you might like, I thought about this kind of thing. An authentic taste of Greece."
"How? I mean, you barely know me. How could you know what I might like and what I might not?" I swirled the wine around my glass while I waited for him to respond, even more curious than before.
"How someone approaches food can tell me a lot about them," he responded, leaning back in his seat and studying me with dark blue eyes. It was easy to see why anyone who had seen them had thought that he was a god of the sea. "I read more of your reviews too, which helped."
I had to admit to being impressed, especially when I'd only just started my job at the Paranormal Gourmet, which meant that he'd really had to go digging to find some of my past reviews. "And what could you tell about me?" I asked curiously.
"That you like food to be genuine. You don't want something that's an approximation of a flavour, you want the flavours to shine and tell you what they're about themselves."
I took a sip of wine. "Go on."
"You don't like things like the Indian dish on my tasting menu because they take the basic elements of a cuisine, but they don't use them in an interesting way."
"Your dish wasn't that bad," I assured him. "It was technically fine..."
"Yes, you've said. But technically fine isn't enough for you. The food has to have heart."
"That's surprisingly insightful for a god of your reputation."
He chuckled. "I did tell you that food was where I channelled a lot of my emotions."
"So you did."
He got to his feet and cleared the plates. "And now I'll serve you something I didn't make, but do love."
"Orange pie?"
"Exactly."
He took the plates away and came back with two loaded with a light orange cake and what I was assuming was frozen yoghurt based on his normal menu.
Poseidon put one of the pieces down in front of me. "Would you like some coffee to go with it?"
"I'd probably better not," I responded. "I want to be able to sleep tonight."
"And Greek coffee is strong," he responded, sliding into the seat opposite me.
"I have heard that." I picked up my spoon and pushed it through the cake, surprised by how dense it was. I took a bite, surprised by the explosion of sweetness and citrus that hit my tongue. "Oh wow, that is good."
"It's one of my favourites," he admitted. "I had it for the first time in a bakery in the south of Greece, and when I asked for the recipe, I thought that the woman who'd made it was being difficult because it had phyllo pastry in it."
"It does?"
He nodded. "I was surprised too. But when I made her recipe, it came out almost as good as hers, so I realised she was telling me the truth."
"Then it was a good job you didn't smite her," I quipped.
Poseidon let out a hearty laugh, a pleasant sound that I wouldn't mind hearing more of. "It's a good job I didn't," he agreed before eating some more of his cake.
At least, I thought it counted as a cake, despite having pie in the name. It truly was delicious, and the way the syrup had soaked into it made it even better. It was hard to believe I'd never had this before.
"Maybe next time, you'll have to make an Indian dessert," he said.
"I'm going to do the same as you did and hire it out," I joked. "I can cook savoury food, but baking and I have never been good friends."
"I think that would be acceptable." He grinned at me and finished off his dessert. "So, why the Paranormal Gourmet?"
His question took me off guard for a moment, but I knew that it was a reasonable one, especially when it was my work for the magazine that had led me to an almost date with him.
"They're the only publication geared towards paranormal establishments.
I don't mind going to human ones, but there's something extra special about knowing there's a hint of magic involved somewhere.
And it's so much easier to write an article when I don't have to lie about knowing that the chef is a Greek god, for instance. "
"It would be a shame if you had to hide my nature," he joked.
"It's hard to when you're walking around introducing yourself as Poseidon," I pointed out.
He shrugged. "If people don't know I'm the god, they just assume that it's my chef name, or that I've got an ego."
"A reasonable thing to assume," I countered.
"Indeed. And I do. But most of it is directed towards cooking these days."
"Then I shall avoid insulting your cooking more than I already have."
He reached across the table and touched my hand, even the briefest contact making a small gasp escape from me. I looked up and met his gaze, surprised by the intensity I found there.
"I always want you to be honest with me about my food," he said earnestly.
I swallowed hard. "I will be."
What was going to be harder was keeping my mind on the food, though perhaps with our upcoming date to Dionysus' vineyard, I didn't need to keep my mind as clear of the other things as I had first thought.