On the Steamy Side - Louisa Edwards [25]
“Sure, except now it’s summer and we’re baking like two little cinnamon buns in a pan. Seriously, Lols, are you glad you came? I know it’s only been a few days, but it was a big change for you.”
“It was time and past. I needed to experience life outside of the county.”
Grant’s mouth twisted. “You never did fit in with those white-gloves-and-pearls Virginia debutantes, did you?”
“No more than you. It was destiny that we became friends.”
“Right, destiny. Or the fact that our family’s farms butted up on the same crick.”
Lilah laughed, because Grant wanted her to. He didn’t like to think about his past as a misfit, she’d noticed. When he’d moved to New York right out of high school, Aunt Bertie had shaken her head and made dour predictions about the fate of a country mouse in the big city, but Grant had never looked back. Lilah knew for a fact that she was the only person he still kept in touch with from their high school class—not that many of those bubble-brained jocks and twittering debs had the sense to know what they were missing out on.
They didn’t like Grant because he was different in some way they sensed, but couldn’t define.
And they didn’t like Lilah because she wore clothes that used to belong to her older (male) cousins and refused to follow their lead when it came to Grant. Or, well, anything.
“Have I thanked you for taking me in and letting me stay with you?” Lilah asked.
“At least twice a day since you moved up here,” Grant said. “And from now on, there’s a moratorium on calling your new life ‘an imposition.’ I love having you here. Even if my apartment is tiny enough that even with you over on the pull-out couch, I woke up when you got the hiccups that first night.”
“Missed me last night, didn’t you? Admit it.” Lilah crossed the last T with a flourish and stood to hand the finished product over the desk.
“Gladly,” he told her, taking the menus and casting his eyes over them quickly. “Actually, I missed you more this morning when I had to get my own breakfast for the first time since you arrived. You turned into a damn fine cook while I wasn’t looking. And Jesus, Adam really can’t spell for shit, can he?”
“Your vocabulary has gone down the toilet.” Lilah laughed, a tiny bit shocked. Her sweet little friend was all grown up.
“Yeah, sorry.” Was he blushing? Cutie. “But you’d better get used to it, I’m afraid. My potty mouth is nothing compared to the sewage most of those cooks upstairs spew during an average dinner service.”
“I can’t wait. You gonna share those livers, or what?”
They shared a companionable moment munching happily on the crispy, salty treats with their surprisingly rich, velvety centers. There was a hint of cayenne in the batter, which fired the roof of her mouth and made her throat tingle pleasantly.
She couldn’t believe she’d allowed that condescending man upstairs to knock her off balance.
“So.” Lilah swallowed, unsure of what she was even feeling. She knew it was better to sweep it under the rug and let it stay there, but she wasn’t quite able to let it go. “Devon Sparks. He’s some kind of big shot, huh?”
Grant paused, eyes wide and intent on her face. “You really don’t know? Lolly, he’s a huge deal. He’s got his own show on the Cooking Channel, restaurants from Miami to Las Vegas. Christ, I think Target sells his own special line of spatulas or something.”
Lilah blinked. Well. She already knew Devon was rich, but she hadn’t realized he was a celebrity. Although it made a certain amount of sense, now that she thought about it—his air of superiority when he talked about food, his chauffeur, his gorgeous apartment.
It was interesting, though, that he hadn’t clued her in on his fame. Lilah remembered how squirrely he got when the subject of names came up, and looking back, she could see he was the one who’d pushed for anonymity. She hadn’t noticed at the time, since it suited her perfectly, but now that she thought on it, she felt it must mean something. Surely a man as arrogant as Grant was making out would’ve been trumpeting his status up and down