If I Told You Read Online Free Page B

at the man beside me, I take a mental inventory of his features. Polished, sophisticated, sexy. His hair makes me want to run my fingers through it and mess it up. I bet he’s sexy as fuck in the morning. That’s when I realize he’s talking to me.
    “I’m sorry, what?”
    Rhys smiles. “I said I’d like you to take the first bite.”
    “Oh.” My eyes catch Flynn’s, as he stands nearby. He has a tense expression on his face as his jaw twitches. “Sure.” Lifting my fork, I slide it into the ravioli, pleased to find it’s his famous lobster and white truffle creation. It’s my absolute favorite. Taking my bite, I barely chew as it melts on my tongue. “Perfect.”
    “Describe it to me,” Rhys says. “In your words.”
    “Uh, silky, vibrant, decadent. I love how each ingredient highlights the others, not competing or overpowering. You can taste the lobster, the truffle, the cream. The hint of pepper cuts through the richness of the dish. I think it’s perfection.”
    Rhys takes his own bite, studying it before putting the fork in his mouth. He chews with his eyes closed as Flynn and I exchange glances. When he opens his eyes, he looks directly at me.
    “Yes,” Rhys says, softly. “I have to agree with you.”
    A moment later, Flynn appears. “I hope you’re enjoying your first course?”
    Rhys looks up at Flynn. “Bravo, Chef. It’s magnificent.”
    Flynn bows his head slightly. “Thank you. Your next dish will be out shortly.”
    “I look forward to it.”
    Flynn disappears in the kitchen. When I look back, Rhys is still watching me.
    “Yes?”
    “You’re very good at describing the dish.”
    “I just say what I think. Always.”
    “We have that in common then.”
    I nod, then take a sip of water. I can’t believe I’m talking to Rhys Camden. Steve appears moments later carrying two plates of the entrée selection for tonight. I look down when mine is set in front of me and smile. It’s picture worthy. It’s that beautiful. I look up at Flynn, lingering in the open kitchen, and grin. He winks at me as Rhys studies the dish, lifting his plate, angling it different directions, then inhales the aroma.
    Using his fork, Rhys pokes his fish, and as it flakes away, he smiles. “Perfect,” he murmurs. Then starts to describe it in detail and the woman with the laptop goes nuts transcribing his words. The woman with the camera takes more pictures and the man with the menu continues to stare blankly, but scrawls on a notepad. So odd.
    Rhys takes a bite, chewing slowly, and describing his experience. As I eat my fish, I make a mental note of his thoughts so I can tell Flynn later. So far so good.
    “How often do you eat here?” he asks.
    “Weekly at least.”
    “Lucky girl. So far I’m quite impressed.”
    I smile. “I’m glad. Flynn works hard.”
    “His food is a reflection of that. Is he cooking for me or is someone else back there doing it?”
    “Oh, Flynn is definitely cooking for you. He still does a lot of the cooking.”
    “Hmm, that’s good to know.”
    “Is that normal or not?”
    “At this stage it’s fairly normal. I like to see the chef still involved in his kitchen.”
    “Flynn is very hands on.”
    “Is he?”
    I tilt my head, noticing his change in tone. “What does that mean?”
    “How long have you been friends?”
    “Years.”
    “Interesting.”
    “It’s not really. Men and women are capable of having platonic relationships. Maybe not in your world, but it’s normal.”
    Rhys nods then takes a sip of his wine. “Did the chef do this pairing or does he have a Sommelier?”
    I shake my head, realizing the change of subject. “He did it.”
    “Excellent choice.” The woman with the computer types rapidly. “In my world, Brooklyn, men and women can have platonic relationships, that is, while they wait for the opportunity to change it.”
    “Is that so?”
    “I could never be just friends with you. My intentions are definitely not platonic.”
    “Well,