Debbi Rawlins – Wild Holiday Nights: Holiday Rush / Playing Games / All Night Long (страница 10)
“Oh, man, way better,” she said, rolling her eyes. “No comparison.”
She knew the spot he meant; it was one of the places cops ate regularly because it was open all night. It had a decent menu for a take-out place, but nothing like Diego’s.
“Let’s go, then,” he said jovially.
“We should take a cab—it’s in East Harlem, and probably not a place you want to leave your rental car,” she said, letting go of his hand as she stepped to the curb and hailed a taxi with an earsplitting whistle.
The yellow cab appeared at the curb, screeching to a halt.
“Wow,” Gideon said, holding the door for her as they got in. “That was impressive. I tried to grab one a few times today, and it took me three tries.”
“It depends on the time of day, the weather, and if they are on duty or not. And a good strong whistle doesn’t hurt. One of the useful things my brothers taught me to do.”
Gideon was sure a nice pair of legs helped, too.
The ride was fast and furious, and Calla let Gideon keep her close in the back of the cab. Far too soon, the cabbie pulled up to the curb again.
“Are you sure this is it?” Gideon asked, looking around as they paid and got out of the cab.
Calla laughed and took his arm. “Yes, quite sure.”
A short ways down the street, she turned him into an alley and opened a door on the side, where the spicy scents of peppers and cumin met them and made her mouth water.
“Awesome, there’s a table open,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward a corner in the back.
The small cantina was crowded and alive with chatter as they claimed what seemed to be the last table in the place. Calla slid up onto the raised seat, victorious.
“I wouldn’t have expected this from the outside,” Gideon said, looking around in appreciation at the warm brick walls decorated with authentic Mexican textiles and other art. “It smells like heaven in here.”
“There are a lot of places like this in the city. Real estate is expensive and hard to come by, so small hidden gems like this are everywhere.”
“And you know the owner?”
“Yes. Diego is the head chef, as well. He grew up in this neighborhood.”
As soon as she said it, her friend appeared at the edge of the kitchen and spotted her. He smiled, heading directly toward her. Calla met him halfway with a hearty hug.
“Calla, what a wonderful surprise.”
“I have a friend visiting from Texas. I couldn’t let him leave the city without tasting your amazing burritos.”
Calla lead Diego back to the table and she saw Gideon watching them, his eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tight.
“Gideon, this is Diego Jones, the owner and the chef. And the guy who saved my butt in sauces back in school.”
“Nice to meet you, Gideon,” Diego said heartily, shaking Gideon’s hand. “Dinner is on the house tonight. I got my hands on some fresh stone crab today, and I’m using it for late-night special burritos. Do you like seafood?”
Calla smiled. Diego was one of the warmest and most generous people she knew, and it came out in his personality and his cooking.
“A crab burrito?” Gideon said, somewhat skeptically.
Calla squeezed Diego’s arm as she levered herself back up into her chair. “Trust me, you won’t want to miss it.”
“Bring it on, then,” Gideon said with another slight smile.
“I hope you’ll enjoy it. Calla, you need to not be such a stranger.”
Diego kissed her cheek before being called by another table; he backed away with a smile.
“Believe me, you won’t ever find any food like what you are about to have here. His combinations of flavors and textures are mind-blowing.”
Gideon nodded. “You two seem...close.”
“We are. I’ve always been more of a baker than a cook, and I met Diego in a course on sauces. I was botching it entirely. He saved my bacon...or my sauce, I suppose. He spent a lot of time out of class helping me perfect my technique.”
“For sauce?”
“Well, yeah, what else?”
“It certainly is a popular place,” Gideon commented as a server delivered two huge, colorful margaritas to their table.
Calla watched him touch the glass, picking up a strange vibe. He was tense, suddenly quiet, and even a bit surly.
Was Gideon jealous?
And why did that idea make her have to fight a female sense of satisfaction? She and Gideon weren’t an item. They weren’t even in a relationship. In a few days he’d be gone.
She was probably imagining his reaction. He was very likely just tired.
“Calla? Are you okay?”
“Oh, yes, sorry. I was just thinking about this place. He doesn’t even advertise, which is amazing,” Calla said wistfully. “He has a terrific product, good food and word spreads about things like that.”
“You have a terrific product, too. But he seems to cater to a local area, like you said. He grew up here. He can feed fifty people at a time, every night. You can only make one cake at a time. It’s completely different.”
“You’re right. I lose perspective sometimes.”
Like right now? It felt so good to confide in Gideon. To share her burdens and have someone’s support. She could easily lose perspective if she didn’t take care.
“It will work out. You’re too talented for it not to,” he added, pulling her hand up to his lips.
Calla shivered at the touch of his mouth on her skin, and relented.
“Probably a hundred talented chefs fail here every day,” she said realistically.
“You won’t be one of them,” he said, holding her gaze and flicking his tongue out to taste the back of her pinky finger. That scrambled her thoughts immediately.
Their food was delivered just in time to divert their attention and reset the magic of the evening. Calla was relieved, as she really didn’t want this to end.
Not yet.
“SO WHY IS IT, exactly, that you owe my brother?” Calla asked as they walked along a quiet side street back in midtown, under starry winter skies.
Her words made little puffs of vapor in the cold air, drawing Gideon’s attention to her mouth. The edges of her lips canted upward in a half smile as her gaze landed on some snowmen built earlier in the day, lined up along the edge of the walk.
Gideon loved everything about her mouth. It was very expressive, betraying her thoughts and her emotions with a slight tilt in either direction, and it was generous with smiles. And kisses. Very wonderful, hot kisses. Before he answered her question, he pulled her around to face him and bent down to help himself to one, unable to wait.
She didn’t seem to mind, pressing closer and parting her lips under his, still tasting of lime, tequila and savory spices from their dinner. Gideon didn’t want to stop, but when she shivered in his arms, he wasn’t sure if it was from desire or cold.
He broke the kiss but kept her close to him as they continued walking, his arm slung around her shoulders.
“He took a bullet for me,” Gideon said, feeling the same knot curl in his chest that he usually did when he said the words out loud. It had been two years, but the memory was still fresh. “He saved my life.”
Gideon still sometimes went to bed haunted by the image of Nathan falling to the pavement. He had taken down the shooter, and Nathan had been wearing a vest, but still.
Calla froze, gripping his hand tightly as she stared up into his face.
“You were there? When he was shot? He never told me that.”
“We were checking the alleys after an armed assault on a store owner, but it seemed like the guy was long gone. He wasn’t—in fact, I walked right by him. He came up behind me. He would have killed me there, on the spot, if Nathan hadn’t come around the corner. He yelled before the guy could shoot me, but then the guy turned on Nathan. Worst night of my life, seeing him fall,” Gideon said.
He apologized softly as he realized he was squeezing Calla’s hand a bit too tightly. She made some incomprehensible noise as she tightened her hand on his again.
“He was okay. He had a vest on—we both did. But it’s just luck that the bullet hit there. I took the guy down right after he fired, but still. If the shot hadn’t hit the vest, Nate could have been killed. Because of my carelessness.”
Calla paused, as if absorbing the news. Was she wondering why he’d missed the guy who had been hiding down a small side alley? Was she thinking that his miss could have gotten her brother killed?