How to love

seven: Maybe you just take my breath away.

Frankie's point of view:

He had a talent. If the business world decided to go against him one day, he surely could fall into being a culinary mastermind. My spoon dips back into the bowl of soup and another delightful moan roars from the back of my throat as my eyes close in sheer satisfaction.

Could I hire him?

"My mother will be delighted to know that her recipes are going down well with people who aren't just family. She always would assume they were being nice just because they are related."

I shake my head, "Well you can tell her that she is a genius."

He sets his empty bowl on the coffee table in front of me, chuckling to himself as he shifts his hand to the glossy magazine. My eyes widen like saucers and I shriek, a mad rush to pluck it from his hands but he was too quick. Amusement wrote across his face as he looks at me.

"It's not mine!"

Chuckling he says, "Really?" with no belief in his tone. "So you're not keeping a magazine with my face on it just for your own benefit?"

"No!" I shriek. "I mean - I didn't pick it up purposely because you were on it. Infact, I wanted to read the interview with Tom Holland."

"Sure." He pokes, grinning widely. I bashfully look down at my lap, leaning forward to place my bowl beside his. "Feeling any better?"

I nod. "A bit." I bite down on my lower lip, tugging the sleeves of my jumper over my hands. "Do you need to get going? I've probably kept you long enough, I appreciate you staying and cooking for me but I totally understand if you have somewhere else to be or somewhere else-"

"You ramble when you're nervous." He states with a sly smile. "But no, I don't have anywhere else to be. In fact, I quite like this."

My lower abdomen cramps and my chest tightens, my breathing turning shallow. I scolded myself for these feelings, whatever they were. Jason was my boss, and there was no room for any sort of emotions. This wasn't one of my novels - this wasn't the love at first sight, walking into a crowd and meeting eyes across the room. This wasn't the old flame coming back and redeveloping feelings for him. This wasn't a high school sweetheart sanario.

This was a strictly work and colleague relationship - who just happened to be helping out a lost soul find love that I dreamt about.

"Who's the biker?" He asks, motioning to the logo stamped on my back.

"My dad." I smile. "He's been into motorcycles his entire life. Right through high school he had a bike. They were like his babies, loved them just as much as me and Flo. He joined a biker club with my uncle Ray. My mom said it was their mid-life crisis. They even got those really big oversized, leather jackets and hung bandanna's from the back pocket of their jeans. Ray even got his ear pierced - my dad was too much of a chicken."

"Is he still in the club?"

I nod. "After my mom died, it was the only thing he had of normality. Everyone looked at him like a sad old widow who was left with two girls and he hated it, whereas the guys in the club didn't treat him any different. They kept joking with him, including him in everything and never shying away from coming over every Sunday for dinner, which was always cooked by Flo and I."

"That sounds.. Interesting."

"It was." I laughed, pulling my legs under my body. He sits sideways, his body now facing me with a arm on the back of the couch and his hand propping up his head. He was so relaxed, it made me warm. "I still think they call on Sunday's. Though, my dad is a really rubbish cook so I think they either have a take-out or one of his friend's wives cook them something."