Read Changing Scenes (Changing Teams #2) for Free Online

and Donnie returned his attention to the road.
    “All right, go ahead and ask me,” I said.
    “Ask you what?”
    “About my eyes.”
    Donnie glanced at me, his forehead wrinkled. “What about your eyes? You have x-ray vision or something?”
    I blinked. “You’re really not curious?”
    “Seriously, babe, you’ve lost me,” he said. “Help a guy out and tell me what I’m supposed to be curious about.”
    “Everyone wants to know if they’re green because of contacts, or if I have some crazy white ancestor,” I explained.
    “I got lots of crazy white ancestors,” Donnie said. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”
    I laughed, and watched my reflection in the passenger window. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed that about you.”
    “S’okay. Besides, I already know everything I need to about your eyes.”
    “And what’s that?”
    “That they’re gorgeous.” My jaw dropped, but before I could say anything, he continued, “And anyway, it’s not like the fish’ll care what color they are.”
    I shut my mouth with a clack. “Fish?”
    “Yeah. Didn’t I tell you? We’re going to the fish market.”
    “At one in the morning?”
    He shrugged. “It’s when it opens.”
    We got to the market, and after Donnie showed his parking tag to an attendant we found a space, parked the van, and entered the market. It was like going to the world’s biggest shopping mall, if all that mall sold was seafood. “I’ve never seen so many dead fish in one place,” I said, then I eyed my companion. “I thought you were the head chef.”
    “That I am.”
    “You don’t have some kind of minion to buy this stuff for you?” I asked, then added, “And why are you coming all the way to New York for fish? Don’t tell me, Connecticut fish aren’t as tasty?”
    “This is the best fish market on the east coast,” Donnie replied. “And the last time I sent a minion, he came back with twelve dozen scallops and one whole trout.”
    “Was that bad?”
    “Yeah. I sent him for lobster.”
    We laughed together, and wandered up and down the endless aisles of fish. Donnie led me through stalls that featured every kind of fish and clam known to man, and a few things that could have been sea monsters. After a while, I asked, “So you come down here every week?”
    “Depends on the restaurant,” he replied. “I’d like to, but certain times of year we just don’t sell as much seafood. But with the holidays and all we can use the stock. The prices here more than make up for the travel and gas.”
    “And that’s the only reason you came down to the city in the middle of the night?” I pressed.
    He looked sidelong at me and gave me this devilish grin that lit me up all over. “Not hardly.”
    We strolled up and down the aisles, Donnie browsing the fish much like I shopped for shoes. I observed as Donnie ordered vast amounts of salmon, whole specimens of other types of fish, and so many scallops it was like they’d emptied the ocean. Eventually we reached a man selling sacks of clams and mussels.
    “Donnie,” the man greeted. “Bet I know what you’re after.”
    “I bet you’d be right,” Donnie said. “Trevor, this is Astrid.”
    “Nice to meet you,” Trevor said. “You one of the new cooks?”
    “No, Donnie just asked me to come along,” I replied.
    “Don, you brought a date to the fish market?” Trevor shook his head. “How did your mama raise you?”
    “Hey, no mama bashing,” Donnie said. “You got my order?”
    “Yeah, I’ve been setting it aside each week ever since Gabe screwed up,” Trevor replied. “Go show your girl an octopus or something. I’ll have this sent over to the van.”
    Donnie nodded, and we walked off down the endless aisles of fish and ice. “Trevor’s right,” I said. “Most guys don’t bring a date to a fish market. Especially not a first date.”
    “I thought our first date was at the restaurant,” Donnie said.
    “When you asked me to nibble your