"You know, I kinda scored you that lamb, so really you should be the one buying coffee." He sounds so serious that I find myself staring up at him in disbelief. It's only when the corner of his mouth twitches that I realize he's putting me on.

"Do you go by Cheapskate or do you prefer Frugal?" I deadpan and he cracks first, laughing freely and blushing slightly. He sighs loudly, taking my elbow in his hand guiding me into the shop first. It's a gentle touch, not even skin on skin, but I'm all tingles anyway. It's been a long time, too long, since I've gone on a date. Is this a date? No, it's coffee. Coffee can be a date though...

"What's the most expensive thing on the menu?" he asks the young guy behind the counter. The Barista huffs and starts reading over the menu board. My stomach turns a bit. I wasn't expecting this. Is he trying to impress me with an expensive drink order?

"You could get the Salted Caramel Mocha with extra shots of espresso," he slumps back to the counter and waits expectantly.

"And that would work out to?" Sid presses him politely.

"I dunno, like seventeen bucks or something." Wow, let me just drop my panties now. A seventeen dollar drink and I'm supposed to think of him as a big spender?

"I'll take that," he decides easily. I'm just about to roll my eyes and shake my head when Sid continues. "She's paying." Sid turns and gives me a sneaky grin and leaves me at the counter to grab a table. The young man looks at me expectantly, and I realize I'm supposed to order something too.

"Chai tea?" I stutter. I've underestimated Sid and it's left me stunned.

"Size?" he doesn't even try to hide how inconvenienced he feels having to actually speak to a customer.

"Medium?"

"Grande," he corrects me and I frown. I scan the room and find Sid and shake my head as I make my way over the table. He raises his eyebrows, feigning innocence, but his smile gives him away.

"You're an expensive guy to run into," I laugh.

"I dunno," he considers this carefully. "You're probably still ahead by quite a bit," he motions to my bag of groceries.

"Maybe," I concede. "But you didn't really give me a chance to haggle with him."

"You think he would have given that to you?" Sid challenges.

"I can be pretty persuasive," I say confidently.

"Okay, let's hear it."

"What?" I can feel embarrassment creeping up inside me.

"What would you have said to persuade him?" he doesn't let up one bit.

"Well..." my mind races to think of something clever or maybe flirty, but it lands squarely on practical. "I would have told him how I'm the only customer who can do a piece of meat like this justice." Sid rolls his eyes in disbelief. "I'm serious!" I regain my composure and continue. "This cut in the hands of a wannabe foodie would be criminal!"

"Criminal?" he giggles with surprise.

"Criminal," I say soberly. "My rosemary marinade, with roasted fingerling potatoes, and minted peas..."

"Okay, you win," he raises his hand in surrender. "Minted peas though?"

"Heaven on a plate," I assure him.

"I dunno," he twists his face and reminds me of a kid facing down a plate of brussels sprouts.

"You've never had minted peas?!" I ask incredulously. "Sid, you are seriously missing out!"

"Uhh, I don't think I am," he says cheekily. We laugh and tease, and the early morning passes quickly. The coffee shop has bursts of business, but stays relatively quiet. Sid springs for the second round and we share a planet-sized muffin. "How long have you been in Pittsburgh?"

"Just over a year," the conversation flows easily between us now. "You?"

"Ten years," he grins. "Holy shit it's been ten years." His mind wanders away for a few seconds. "Where did you live before?"

"New York," I say quickly, hoping we can pass over this without too much investigation.

"You know, everyone says it's the greatest city in the world but..." he trails off and presses his lips into a firm line.

"You're unconvinced," I finish for him.

"It's too big," he says flatly.

"Way too big," I agree.

"And noisy," he continues.

"I like a little bit of quiet too."

"And before New York?" he continues his interrogation.

"I'm from Connecticut, studied in France, trained and worked in New York, and then was invited to open Forks and Knives in Pittsburgh," I rattle off my condensed resume.

"Readers Digest version," he mocks me and nods in approval.

"Okay hot shot, what about you?" I challenge playfully.

"From Nova Scotia, studied in Minnesota, trained in Quebec, and then was drafted to Pittsburgh," he uses my own words against me, and it's kind of adorable. He's kind of adorable.

"So when I compulsively Google you tonight, that's all I'll find?" I laugh.

"Well, a few things have happened in between, but basically," he concludes.

"And you've probably already compulsively Googled me so you already know what's out there," I tease, but his cheeks burn red and I'm surprised. "You didn't!"

"Once," he admits. "Just to make sure I had the right restaurant," he says defensively.

"What else did you find?" I'm curious now, and a little nervous. Not that I've had the most interesting existence, and let's be honest, everyone Googles themselves once in a while, but who knows what he's dug up.

"Restaurant reviews, a few interviews..." he trails off, and a wide smile spreads across his face.

"What?"

"A cooking show on YouTube," he laughs.

"Oh my God you didn't!" I cringe with embarrassment. "I was like, eighteen when they filmed that and it was just segments for a local morning show," I try my best to explain, but I want to crawl under my chair and die.

"Good Morning Hartford!" Sid does his best impression of the cheesy host and I can't help but laugh.

"I wish I were dead!" I groan, and I feel his hands pull my fingers away from my face. "Is it as awful as I remember?"

"Well," he considers the question carefully. "I mean, I've had my share of embarrassing commercials."

"Ugh," I drag my hands back to cover my eyes and I can hear him giggling at my expense.

"I should have lied."

"That would have been the polite thing to do!" I snap back.

"Oh we're way past polite," he replies instantly.

"I thought Canadians were polite to a fault!" he's laughing hard at me now, and there's no coming back from this. "Well, it's out there. I thought my DVR was the most embarrassing thing about me, but you've resurrected the past!"

"Your DVR?" he questions.

"Oh it's full of guilty pleasures," I assure him.

"Like?"

"Courtroom TV shows, talk shows, reruns of teen dramas," I can't seem to change the conversation, but at least we're not talking about my brief stint on television.

"Yikes," he frowns.

"It's bad," I admit.

"Confession?" he winces like he knows he's about to do something he'll regret. "I watched all of One Tree Hill on Netflix." It's unexpected to say the least.

"One Tree Hill?" I demand clarification. He shakes his head and moves his gaze from my eyes to the table.

"See, as soon as I started saying it, I knew it was a mistake," he's pretty cute when he's embarrassed. He starts shredding the corner of the paper napkin in front of him, and I kind of like that he's thrown off his game a bit. I think I've had my fair share of teasing today, now we can see how he likes it when the tables are turned.

"And you say you're a professional hockey player?" I try my best to sound confused. He smirks and is about to retort when his phone rings and he starts fishing through his jacket pockets to answer it. He puts a finger up, letting me know he'll only be a minute.

"Hey," his tone is friendly. "I'm just out for coffee," he smiles at me. "What's up?" He listens carefully, his focus drifting from our impromptu date to whatever information is being relayed to him. "Okay, yeah. I'll head over right away." Sid hangs up the phone and looks up at me.

"Your buddy with the out call?" I suggest and he shakes his head and smiles.

"Work stuff," is all he says. "This was nice." Nice. Okay, I can work with nice.

"Yeah, it was good running into you," I play it cool too.

"Maybe we could run into each other again sometime?" he suggests. I grin and he continues. "Like, maybe next Sunday?"

"Sundays are good for me."

"Good," he chuckles, and for a second I feel like maybe I should have played harder to get. "I'll run into you around 10:00am at the farmers' market, and then I'll let you cook me lunch," he finishes and it's so cheeky I can't help but burst out laughing.

"Perfect," I shake my head in disbelief. He's smooth, but kind of not at the same time. "Fair warning, I live in the city."

"That's okay, you can use my kitchen. I'm just a few blocks from here," and just like that I've been invited back to his place. In a week, but still. "I should probably get your number in case anything changes." Okay, he's smooth.

"Definitely," I nod in agreement, but both of us have face-splitting smiles that conceal nothing. We swap phones and each plug in our numbers. He leans in and for a split second I wonder if he's going to kiss me, but instead we share a brief hug. Friendly hug. Well, it's physical contact either way. We walk in step out of the coffee shop, and it's a little awkward as we've already said our goodbye.

"We'll talk soon?" he asks, and his question throws me a bit.

"Sure," it's a shaky reply. "Call anytime," now I sound more desperate than I'd like. Sid nods and heads in the opposite direction of my car, I watch him for a second, then turn to cross the street.

"Lou," Sid calls after me. I turn quickly to face him, eager to hear what he has to say. "It was worth the wait!" It takes me a second to understand what he means.

"Now you have an in at the restaurant if you ever need a table," I laugh, catching on to his joke about the restaurant being booked solid. He gives me a shy wave and climbs into a dark blue Range Rover. I skip across the street, heading to my own car, a second-hand Jetta. I make a comfortable living, I can't complain, but I'm not driving a Range Rover either. You don't get into cooking to get rich, that much I know. I've been around wealthy people my whole life, and I can tell Sid isn't motivated by money. He's not flashy and didn't throw his money around. Even at the restaurant, he declined Mark's offer and paid the tab.

A week. I'll see him again in a week. It's Sunday, which is my favorite day for a few reasons. First, it's a day off, but more importantly, it's game night. A group of NYC ex-pats get together for good food, good wine, and terrible board games. Most of us have worked together in kitchens at some point, but there's also a few non-foodies in the mix.

At home, I unpack my shopping and the choice cut that Sid scored for me and I get to work. Preparing the marinade, massaging it into the meat, letting it sit while I prep the veg. It's my day off, and I'm elbow deep in food. I've found my calling. My phone buzzes and I glance down to see a picture of a decadent chocolate cake.

"I'm going to face plant into that!" I text back. Lucky for us, our game night group includes Jenn, a pastry chef who uses us to test her recipes. I suppose we all do a bit of that.

Simon can't cook, but he has some fancy job that keeps him in good wine, so he insists on hosting. We're all happy to let him think we're doing him a favor, but truthfully, none of us would splurge on drink the way Simon does. I balance my roaster in one hand and am just about to press the buzzer when the door flies open. "Eloise!" he insists on calling me by my full name. "Whadya got?" Simon moves to check under the lid and I slap his hand away.

"You'll have to wait," I scold playfully and head upstairs. I'm the last one in.

"Lou!" comes the call from the room. The gang is all here. Jenn, who immediately races up and takes the food from my arms. Brent, Simon's friend who never misses the chance to down some free food and hit on Jenn. Dave, a sous-cook with a short fuse. He takes game night seriously, like, really seriously. Finally Liam, a shy line cook that I have such a crush on.

"Hey guys," I grin back at my friends. "What did everyone bring?"

"Dumplings," Dave says first. No surprise there, as he's just taken a job at an Asian-fusion restaurant.

"Chips," Brent chimes in completely unashamed. He's not a cook, so I suppose that's an acceptable contribution.

"Sweetbreads," Liam announces proudly. "What about you darling?"

"Lamb lollipops," I beam and just as I expected, the room sounds their approval and appreciation. "Fresh from the farmers' market!"

Simon sets a beautiful table while the rest of us catch up on the week's news and gossip. When it's time to sit in, I take a moment to snap a picture of the gorgeous food and consider sending it to Sid. Too soon? "Hey Jenn," I whisper carefully. "If you had coffee with a guy who gave you a rack of lamb would it be weird to send him a picture of it?"

"What?" she bursts out laughing and my cover is blown. "Some guy gave you the meat?" A series of catcalls and cheering follows.

"Okay, relax," I try to get the situation under control. "It's not like that."

"So whose meat are we eating, Lou?" Brent asks cheekily.

"I ran into a customer at the farmers' market and he scored me the lamb, that's it!" I blush furiously.

"Whatever you say darling," Liam teases and starts dishing up his offering.

"Send it," Jenn whispers back and gives me a supportive wink.

"Thanks again!" I quickly hit send before I change my mind and tuck my phone away. It's my night to enjoy my friends, not stress about a guy.