That Secret Crush (Getting Lucky, #3)

by Meghan Quinn

When my best friend, Eric, and I were getting through culinary school, pretty much every instructor told us that we weren’t going to have any time for relationships. The only love of our lives would be our knives. That’s turned out to be true. Betty, Beverly, and Barbie are my girls. Every night we have a foursome, and weirdly, they’re the best I’ve ever had. They enjoy my hands, and I enjoy their cutting edge—fuck, I’m hilarious.

Put that on my dating profile. Ladies will be swiping right in the blink of an eye. Lives on a houseboat, smells like crabs—but doesn’t have crabs, win—interfering brothers, and exceptionally nosy older sister. Used to cook but now eats soup from a can, willing to split the check with you but not willing to pay in full—sorry, but there’s only dust in these pockets—rocket of a cock, great fingers, and will eat you for nourishment. I’m a real fucking catch.

He lifts my chin, his finger rough against my skin. “I won’t let you fail, and I won’t let you stop chasing your passion. Cooking, creating, that’s what makes you happy. You’re alive in the kitchen, Reid; it’s where your heart beats, where your mind soars. You belong there, and I’ll be damned if I leave this earth with the knowledge that you aren’t doing what you’re meant to do. You’re a chef, always have been, always will be.” More tears stream down my face, and I’m grateful it’s just my dad and me. I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a moment like this with him, not even after everything crashed and burned with the restaurant. I pushed everyone away, so this time with him and these tears are long overdue.