8 - Tastes Like An Offer

Camila~

He smiled, and his eyes actually lit up in excitement. God, I loved his eyes. I hoped I wasn't staring again.

"Did I say something funny?" I just had to ask. His hand reached for mine, and he led me outside. The cold air sank into my skin, causing me to shiver.

"It's cold," he said, his hand stretched forward as he... caught the cold? I didn't know what he was doing.

"Yeah, I'm kinda cold, so can we wrap this up?"

He nodded, then cleared his throat a little too loudly. "Yes, you are right. Okay, um, Camila Torres..."

I blinked. How did he...

But I was more furious. He was wearing a hoodie. Why couldn't he offer it to me? Bro hasn't seen a lot of romantic movies where they ask, "Are you cold?" and offer their jacket or something? This man before me just ignored my shivers and shaking like it was nothing!

"Let's wrap it up," I said again, making my face hard.

"Sure, sure. Okay, uh... you're the one I've been searching for all my life." He said it so calmly, like he was saying, "Did you know anything from 7 p.m. is nighttime?" It was too casual.

"I'm sorry, what?" Oh, this creep! How dare him try to flirt with me like this! But he wasn't smiling proudly the way men grinned when they were trying to flirt.

"I want you to be my manager," he said, still smiling. He stopped abruptly, as if realizing something. "Oh shit, my bad. No, listen..." He straightened his posture and... damn, this man was a tower. "I've been searching for a manager for my cooking school. And look, you have the qualities."

I didn't understand what he meant, but boy, was I eager. "So you see me, and you think, 'Oh, she qualifies for a managerial position?'"

He nodded. "You won't understand. I'm trying to as well, but this is serious. For the growth of the business, I need my manager to be someone who's passionate about cooking, who actually knows her stuff." His eyes lit up again, and he actually looked lost in his imagination. Or should I say fantasy? Me? Be his manager?

"You understand flavors better than most people I've met."

I scoffed with a shrug. "So? Many housewives understand that."

"You weren't guessing. You knew what you were saying. I need someone like that."

"Again, many housewives know that—"

"Well, maybe what I need is a housewife then." His face turned to horror, like he'd just seen his grandma naked. "No, shut up." I actually laughed at that, and he was laughing now too. "What I mean is," he cleared his throat and straightened up, "maybe I need you. No, I need you. Please, just... what the fuck, just say yes."

Why so serious, jeez.

"Yeah, but... I mean... you don't even know what my qualifications are. A managerial position is..." I stopped and stepped away from him. "Are you just messing with me right now?"

"What? Why would I even..." A soft sigh escaped his lips. "Camila Torres, think about it, hmm? You're a smart woman."

Why does he call me by my full name?

"I'd pay really well. Don't you need the money now? You could get your own place in a couple of months!"

"How did you..."

"—I listened. At the bar, you said you've got a cheating husband."

Did I?

"I connected the dots. Mike didn't say a word."

I nodded. "Good."

"Now, you'd also get a personal driver and your own car—well, once I trust you enough to let you drive."

"I can drive."

I could not.

"Wait, wait, you would give me a car??" I was starting to listen now.

"Sure." That smile spread across his face again. What was exciting him? Jeez, was this man serious? "Listen, I'm going to be like your acquaintance and shit instead of your boss. Which means you can slap me when nobody's looking," he cleared his throat and frowned, "if I make a mistake, of course."

Was he being serious?

I needed to keep my cool. "Well..." I straightened my posture and made my voice sound louder. "Why didn't you start with this first?!"

"Ha!" The relief on his face was everything for me. "Wonderful."

"I did go to college. But I've got, like, a degree in arts and education."

"That is perfect."

"No, it's not."

He rolled his eyes. "Hey, who cares? Congrats, and welcome to the team, Camila Torres."

"Thank you." I didn't get it. Why was I grinning like an idiot? "Hey, why do you call me by my full name? Just say Camila."

"It's either that or garlic."

The smile on my face vanished. "No, that name is not going anywhere. It will never become a thing."

"Sure thing, garlic."

"Ew. You have to stop." He just smirked, then opened the door. I rushed in to follow. "It cannot work, okay? Think about something sweet or..."

Shawn was behind Mike, both men watching like some creepy birds. Then I turned to my side and found Caleb staring by the stairway. I cleared my throat, destroying whatever laughter had been building up inside. My face was a mask of a frown now. I needed to appear serious—wait, did they think I was flirting with Nico?

I was so embarrassed right now!

"Uh, hey, Caleb!" I rushed towards him. "Let's, um, I gotta tell you something. I got a job!"

Behind me, I could feel Nico's eyes—no, wait, it was probably all three of them. Were Shawn and Mike judging me? I leaned in to ask what Caleb had just witnessed.

"You know," he started, "I'm just hungry. If it's anything, they were probably just hungry too."

"Sure." He was lying. Caleb had always been a terrible liar. That's why I loved him. He would simply call out your shit—until it became his father. He wiped his hand on his clothes as if it was wet. Like he was wiping his dry hand on his clothes and looking anywhere but at you. He was doing that right now.

Did my son think I was a flirt?

"So, you got a job?"

"Uh, yup! It's about cooking... you're going to be eating a lot. Honestly, I'm really concerned because it will pay well, and that's all that really matters—"

He stopped me. We were inside the room now, and he just sort of asked me to keep quiet with the way he turned to face me, small lips pressed into a thin line, and squinting eyes judging me.

I froze. My son was about to throw in a sassy constructive criticism. I was ready to face it. Caleb was always right. I listened to him and... he was always right.

"You can't run away from Dad. He'll always be your husband."

I sighed. Well... that wasn't such a smart thing to say. "We're getting a divorce, Caleb. It's a real thing, and you gotta face it."

"So because some woman tried to come in between your ancient marriage, you have been with him for like, what? Like 100 years now?"

"It hurts." I stopped him there. "I've never cheated on him before. He owes me an apology. Savannah, Blake, they all knew about him and Vanessa. His mom... you know they don't like me—"

"—poor people don't deserve to be proud."

"Poor people..." The words were sour and bitter in my mouth. My eyes burned. Everything was blurry from the tears that had gathered. "You will always blame me for this. Sure. I'll sacrifice myself and become the villain you need. But I was hurt, Caleb. He owes me an apology."

His lips opened to talk, but he was cut short when we heard a loud noise from downstairs.