Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!) by Kim Linwood Page B

as he takes it in his calloused palm.
    He smiles. “Just call me Chef.” When he gets a better look at me, he pauses, his bushy eyebrows narrowing and his forehead furrowing for a moment.
    Crap, he’s recognized me.
    He glances quickly between us a couple of times, then seems to decide and takes my hand in his. Raising it to his lips, he kisses it briefly, then beams at me. “Welcome to my humble restaurant, Señorita Dreyer. Please, call me Chef.” He’s always been like that. I’m not sure anyone knows his real first name. He might even have forgotten it.
    Just then, his wife emerges from the kitchen, with a smile every bit as welcoming as his. At least until she turns to him and says sharply, “Chef, let our poor customers in. I’m sure they’re not interested in standing in the doorway all day.”
    Does she call him Chef in the bedroom too? I giggle at the thought.
    “Yes, Maria.” He laughs and steps aside, guiding us with a slight bow and a sweep of his arm. “Please, enter.” He glances over his shoulder and then pretend-whispers to me, “And don’t be alarmed at my wife’s tone. She is really quite sweet.”
    Maria rolls her eyes dramatically and disappears back into the kitchen. “Tonto,” slips out before the door slides shut. It’s the most loving way I’ve ever heard anyone call someone an idiot.
    I smile. They’ve always been like that. Him boisterous and excited, her quiet and warm, but with a bite. A perfect match. I used to wish I had parents like them. First when my father was gone so much and Mom would cry. Then when Mom and Hunter’s dad were together. Happy for a short while, then miserable for so long. Maybe some day I’ll find someone like that, but I’m not holding my breath. Maria puts more love into her gentle teasing than Mom put into her entire marriage.
    I look around. The cozy dining area only has room for a few tables, and tonight we are the only ones here. It’s nearly as I remember it, but well-polished and bright where it had seemed dull and worn. Much like the estate. Hunter not only has my life, he has an upgraded version.
    The lucky bastard leans in close. “It’s just us tonight. I made sure of it.”
    He means the restaurant, I’m sure, but the implication of privacy makes me think of other—more intimate—things than dinner.
    Chef seats us himself, pulling out my chair before Hunter gets the chance. Our cameraman gets a table next to us, where he can sit and be a good little stalker, watching us through his lens.
    Nothing like a private, romantic dinner in front of a video camera. I sigh.
    The dinner menu arranged before we even sit down, Chef goes off to perform the final steps of his culinary magic. Hunter leans forward over the table. “I’m getting worried I’m going to lose you to Chef. He might be getting older, but he’s smooth.”
    My lip quirks up in a smile as I imagine Maria beating him over the head with a pan. “A man who knows his way around a kitchen is quite a catch, but I think I’m safe. Although...” I trail off, giving Hunter an assessing look. “Now that you mention it, if not food, then what do you bring to the table?”
    Aside from money, good looks and over six feet of gorgeous muscle.
    Hunter smirks. “I’m an amazing kisser.”
    “Yet to be proven,” I point out, though if my teenage memory can be believed, he’s absolutely right. “Still, I think I need more than nice lips and a sexy body to sweep me off my feet.”
    “Sexy body? I didn’t mention that, but good to know you’re thinking about it. I think I already proved I can sweep you off your feet just fine, though.”
    Alright, so I giggle. A little. “Dork.”
    His eyes go theatrically huge, and he leans in even closer. “Do you know what a dork actually is?”
    It’s going to be something horrible and embarrassing, but I shake my head anyway.
    He crooks his finger, and I put my ear next to his mouth. “A whale dick!”
    I sit back, blinking. “Excuse