Culinary Delight

Culinary Delight by Christin Lovell Page B

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Authors: Christin Lovell
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guy because he’d bought flowers and take-out from that nice Italian restaurant down the street.”
    “Poor guy.” Why did the mean girls always get the good guys?
    “That’s not even the worst part. They both turned on her. She ended up with soda all over her outfit when the first guy slammed his fist on the table. They left her sitting there balling her eyes out in front of half the employees in the building. She spent the rest of the day with her tail between her legs and she’s called out every day since.”
    “Can’t say I blame her. Talk about having your dirty laundry aired.”
    “She brought it upon herself,” she snapped. “These last few days without her snarky, back-handed comments have been delightful.”
    “Delightful?” I knew humor lit my expression.
    “Delightful, amazing, wonderful, and all the other synonyms. I never realized how much stress she caused me until now. She’s half the tension in my shoulders.”
    “But now you don’t need to take out your stress in the bedroom every night. Poor Roger must be walking around with blue balls not getting his daily fix.” I puckered my bottom lip, feigning sympathy for him.
    Her lips curled into a devilish grin. “Trust me, he’s being taken care of.”
    “At least one of us is.”
    “Two of us.” She shoved a hefty piece of bread between her lips, averting her gaze.
    “I have a feeling my drought is just beginning.” It was lonely being the only single in your group of friends.
    “What about that guy from the club a couple weeks ago?”
    “He was into some major kink. I mean, I’m all for a little dominance, but I’m not a child and you’re not my dad. I’m not calling you daddy and I don’t need a spanking, to be crucified or whipped.” I grimaced.
    “Rog and I tried some of that stuff, but the only thing that stuck were the cuffs on occasion.”
    “It’s pretty sad when Roger as a partner is sounding even remotely appealing.” I scrunched my nose. Roger was like a brother to me, and not of the secret incest desiring variety either.
    She rolled her eyes. “You just need a steady bedmate.”
    I considered her words. “I think that’s part of the problem. I’ve never able to just let go. If strings aren’t attached, I’m not in.”
    “Well, you know Rog and me started as a one night hook-up.”
    I laughed. “Once and he was hooked is more like it. I’m shocked you two didn’t end up pregnant way sooner.”
    She grunted. “You’re tellin’ me.”
    We fell into amicable silence. I looked around the restaurant. They did a good job decorating it; it was reminiscent of a few of the restaurants in Old San Juan. The feel was there, but without the crowds, the atmosphere was lacking.
    A glance at the hostess station showed the girl engrossed in her cell phone. She must be bored out of her mind.
    Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen any other employees aside from Carlos and her. I knew Rico was in the kitchen. Three employees and two customers; I was a little sad for them. The menus had been beautifully printed on heavy cardstock, a large sign hung over the entrance door that was visible from the street. They’d put time, money and effort into the basics. The service was good so far as well. Carlos continually peered over at our table to ensure we didn’t need anything.
    As if on cue, he appeared with two healthy sized plates of food. The steam rose up into my face as he set mine in front of me.
    Seeing my order, I cringed inside. Immediately I knew it wasn’t going to be good. The color wasn’t there.
    I glanced at Rachel’s dish. Three large empanadas sat on her plate. They looked overdone though, as if they’d dropped them into a deep fryer rather than pan-frying them on a lower temp.
    “Can I get you anything else, ladies?” Carlos’ hands were clasped a bit tighter this time. His knuckles were taking on a white hue, as if he was on edge.
    Rachel lifted a brow in my direction. “You good, Molly?”
    I knew my

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