Read Online Skinny Bitch Gets Hitched by Kim Barnouin - Free Book Online Page B

Breathe, Clementine, I heard her whisper in my ear, Tibetan bowl music pinging in the background.
    As I walked over to the table, Zach was looking at me with an expression that said, Don’t take it personally. This is who she is.
    How could I not take it personally, though? Even if the fettuccine sucked, the kind-mother-in-law thing to do would be to say it was delicious. Especially since this was the first time we’d met. If I were invited over to her house and she served something I didn’t like, I certainly wouldn’t tell her.
    She’d sent back her plate.
    And everyone at the table was digging in except for Dominique, who sipped her wine and had an untouched piece of focaccia on the little plate in front of her.
    â€œClementine,” she enunciated as I came over, “I hope I didn’t cause too much of a fuss. But a pasta really should be tooth some.”
    Okay, first of all, who said toothsome with a straight face? And second, well, shit. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
    â€œOf course I wouldn’t have breathed a word if you’d made it yourself,” Dominique said, barely looking at me. “But I thought you’d want your chef to know,” she added in an exaggerated whisper.
    â€œActually, I’m owner and executive chef and I did make your dish myself,” I said, my knuckles practically white from gripping the back of Zach’s chair.
    Zach turned and shot me a look that said, Did you have to go there?
    Yeah, I did. I could pretty much be counted on to say what needed to be said. Wasn’t that why he’d fallen in love with me?
    A faux smile spread across Dominique’s matte-red lips.“Well, dear, even the best chefs have something to learn. You’re all of what—twenty-five, Clementine? Though I must say, having your own restaurant, even a cute little place like this”—she glanced around—“is quite an accomplishment.”
    Even . Ha. She was everything Zach said she’d be and more. She’d looked at him pointedly as she’d said that last bit, which meant she thought Zach had funded Clementine’s No Crap Café. For the record: I hadn’t taken one penny from Zach. Not that he hadn’t tried to foist his money on me. But I opened this “cute little place” with my own blood, sweat, and hard-earned cash.
    And by the way, I was twenty-six.
    â€œWell, my Jamaican jerk tofu is fabulous,” said Zach. “And that’s coming from a serious carnivore.”
    â€œAgreed,” Avery said, taking another bite of her own jerk tofu. “And I know vegan food. This is the best I’ve had.”
    Gareth took a swig of his beer. “I have to admit—my burger is pretty damned good for sprout food.”
    I smiled at them. The Jeffries siblings were keepers, definitely.
    Considering that Zach had told me that Dominique preferred caviar to just about anything else, I’d take Mommy Dearest’s opinion on my precision-timed, homemade, organic pasta with a few grains of sea salt. Even if it still stung.
    Keira, Dominique’s twenty-two-year-old stepdaughter, wrinkled her nose at her lasagna, one of tonight’s other specials. “Clementine, I wasn’t going to say anything, but since we’re on the subject . . . Um, I’m really sorry, but I’m not loving thisParmesan cheese.” She leaned in and whispered, “It tastes a little . . . funny.”
    â€œIt’s vegan Parmesan,” Avery told her. “It’s not supposed to taste like the stuff you sprinkle on pasta.”
    â€œOh,” Keira said, poking at her lasagna. Keira was the only child of Dominique’s second and current husband. Dominique and Zach’s father had divorced when Zach was a teenager. Dominique had been married to her second husband, even wealthier than her first, for sixteen years, and according to Zach, she considered Keira her own