My brows lifted. “What?”
“No. Not in an intimate setting like this.”
My face flamed at the word intimate. “This is nothing. Just a thank you.”
“This is not nothing. When you cook for someone, it shows you care. I knew you’d come around to caring about me eventually.”
I rolled my eyes even as I laughed. “Forever arrogant I see.” I held my breath when he took his first bite. Some people didn’t like spicy food, so I was worried. What kind of food did billionaires eat anyway? I had no idea.
His first moan made me break out into a grin.
And then he sat back and nodded and did this kind of shimmy in his seat. Ah, a happy food dance. I watched, grinning as he tucked in, too preoccupied with his reaction to my cooking to eat myself.
Five bites in, he stopped and glanced over at me. “You’re not eating.”
“Well, I’m enjoying watching you eat.”
He narrowed his gaze as he lifted another forkful to his mouth. “Did you poison me? I have to say it’s too delicious for me to care.”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t dare ruin good jollof.”
“Is that what I’m eating?”
I nodded. “The rice is a standard across West Africa, and everyone has their own version. You’ll find the Ghanaians and the Nigerians are in a constant battle for who makes the best jollof rice. The Senegalese, who claim the origin of the dish, aren’t even in that fight.”
“A fight over rice?”
“You have no idea. We take our dishes seriously. Of course, being Ghanaian, I know we make the best.”
He guffawed. “It’s hard to argue when my taste buds are exploding with joy. Is that plantain?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I made it into kelewele. Chopped up and spiced.”
“Oh God, I used to live on plantains when I lived in Jamaica. But they were sweeter, not as spicy.”
“Yeah, same sweet plantain, but this particular recipe is just spicier.”
For the next couple of hours, we ate and laughed, and things were easy between us. Too easy.
“How has no one cooked for you before? Mom always said the fastest way to someone’s heart was through food. I’m surprised some socialite hasn’t figured it out yet.”
“Socialites are busy figuring out what’s in it for them. They want all the trappings of the money, so they wouldn’t put themselves in the kitchen.”
“I guess they want that sterile life. Like a hotel.”
He laughed. “Yeah, they do. And they want that lifestyle where they never live anywhere and never form real connections with people. “This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and tucked one foot under myself. “Well, Ben Covington, you and I could both probably use some new friends.”
He raised his glass, leaning over to clink it with mine. “To new friends. To the best kind of friends who cook for you.”
“Somehow I feel like this is going to bite me in the ass.”
He grinned. “I knew you were dirty. I’m happy to bite you anywhere you like.”
“You are incorrigible.”
“I know you’ll be shocked, but I’ve been told that before.”
I wasn’t shocked in the least.
Ben
I’d made a grievous error in judgment.
When I suggested we come down to the theater, I hadn’t thought through the whole alone-in-the-dark scenario where it would be difficult to think about anything other than getting Livy beneath me.
I hadn’t thought about how close she would be or the smell of her shampoo. Or that I’d be feeling warm and happy and really mellow from her cooking for me.
So I was sitting next to the woman I wanted, who more than likely needed time, and I had a raging erection.
When I got the text from East asking if I was coming up to watch the Tottenham match, I kept my reply vague.
Ben: Busy.
His response was instant.
East: Busy doing what? Long night of wanking? Get your arse up here.
Ben: Told you, busy. Plans.
East: Found someone new to shag, did you? You’re using one of the rooms?
Ben: Stay out of my business.
East: You’re in the movie theater. What the hell are you doing in there?
Ben: Why are you stalking me?
East: Because you’re being cagey. And I see you have a guest. I will immediately
turn off the surveillance. Because nobody needs to see that.
Ben: You’re an arsehole.
East: I know. Have fun with the woman you’re not into.
I turned off my phone. I didn’t need my mate getting into my head. Besides, this was about Livy. I’d told her cook’s choice on a movie. We had thousands available. What she chose surprised me.
“Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?”
Her grin was sweet. “I love this movie. And the screen is so big. I’ve only ever seen it on TV.”
“Your pick, you can have whatever you want.”
She snuggled into the seat next to me. “Ugh, I should have brought a blanket. Can we pause so I can go get one? I might pick up some sweet and salty popcorn too. You want any candy or anything?”
“Oh, you’re adorable. Hold on.” Did she really think I was going to send her upstairs to concessions?
I pulled a remote out of the side of my chair and tapped in a request.
She frowned at me. “What are you doing?”
“You said you wanted a blanket and popcorn, right?”
Her brows lifted. “Seriously?”
I grinned at her. “Owning the place has some perks.”
“Jesus. What’s it like to get everything you ever want? Doesn’t that get boring?”
I shook my head. “Nope. And I don’t always get everything I want. Some things I have to work for. And it’s better when I work for them.”
Way to be obvious.
“But it must be odd to press a button and have blankets appear out of nowhere.”
“Well, I pay people to make sure that those things happen for anyone who stays here. I want people to know comfort. To have a sense of being taken care of. Like you have family even when you’re far away.”
Her smile warmed me from the inside as she grinned up at me. “So, you do this at all the hotels so that people have a sense of family?”
Heat started to creep up my neck as the embarrassment hit. “A little. When I was a kid, I would watch people bend over backward to make sure that my father had everything he needed exactly how he needed it. And eventually they got so good at their jobs that he didn’t even have to ask; whatever he needed would just appear. But then I noticed at school and other places that most people didn’t have that, and I wanted to provide that kind of experience for people.”
“Why, Bennet James Covington, you do care about people.”
I brushed off the sentiment. “It’s my job.”
We were interrupted by one of the bellhops. “Mr. Covington, here are your popcorn and blankets.”
Olivia grinned up. “Thank you so much.”
Tucked into her blanket, she scooted closer to me. But the arm of the seat was in the way. I hit a button on the remote, and the arm retracted down, forming a love seat of sorts.