the other half
ready to piss their pants. Since you supposedly like me, supposedly
I’m least likely to get fired for this. Supposedly.”
Every heartbeat kicked
against his ribs with enough force to leave a bruise on the
outside. He wanted to look. The urge to look taunted
him.
But if he looked it would be
real. The lie would be in black and white for him and all of Denver
to see.
She’d used him. Just to find
out about food, of all things.
Vicky dropped her hand,
apparently satisfied he wouldn’t let go first. “And when you’re
done, the guest at table twenty wants to send compliments to the
chef. Since you’re out here, you might as well go over there for
yourself.”
Minutes passed. He didn’t
know how many. His feet refused to move, the page still remained
clutched in his hand. If he were a smarter man, he’d crumple the
paper into a ball, drop it on one of the nearby tables and walk
away.
Instead, at last, he folded
it into a square and tucked it into his trousers. Later, one
day— someday —he’d
read it. Not today, though.
Forcing his cheeks to lift
and his mouth to part into a smile, August pulled his shoulders
back and strode to table twenty. For everyone’s sakes, so they’d
know this funk wouldn’t get the best of him, he made a show of
greeting guests along the way. Even one of the busboys earned a
high-wattage smile.
Poor guy looked
terrified.
It pulled a strangled
chuckle out of him. If he hadn’t been so intent on figuring out how
to make it up to the busboy, he might have stopped three yards
sooner. Just a few steps and he would have avoided having to look
at her.
But Saffron was watching his
approach. He’d made it too close to turn back now without drawing
the curious attention of other patrons.
When he realized his smile
had fallen, August forced it back into place. It felt wooden and
stupid. Without a doubt it fooled no one. But just as his pushy
sous chef insisted, August smiled.
Despite the empty booth
across from hers and the missing place setting, he stood close
enough to the table to be heard, but far enough away he wouldn’t be
tempted to touch her.
Despite his bruised ego, he
was still very, very tempted.
“ Madame.”
She replied softly,
“Chef.”
An eternity
passed.
“ You look tired.”
“ I work very hard,
Madame.”
“ Oh. I didn’t mean to imply
you didn’t…I mean, crap . I’m sorry, I came to find out…I mean…did you read it? It
came out yesterday.”
Ice filled his veins. “I
made it a habit of mine a long time ago not to read reviews.
They’re very subjective.”
“ I see.” She nibbled on her
lip. The same lip he’d spent hours tonguing until swollen a week
ago. “Vicky said…”
“ What did she say?” The
anger he didn’t realize he harbored sharpened to a fine
point.
“ Listen,” she snapped. His
eyebrows arched in surprise. “I’m paying her three hundred dollars
to occupy this table until you talk to me. Money well spent, but I
damned well plan on getting every penny’s worth.”
He turned on his heel. “Save
your money,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“ August… please .”
The car ride back to the
restaurant that night still haunted him. The awful silence. The
tension wrapping around his neck, snaking into his lungs until he
almost couldn’t breathe.
She hadn’t cried. She hadn’t
begged. And that was almost worse than if she had.
Nine minutes passed as
the two strangers avoided looking at each other. Not talking. Not
touching. The previous hours vanished from their memories. Or at
least they must have vanished from hers. He couldn’t stop thinking
about them.
Too soon he pulled alongside
her car. When she stepped out, something in him screamed for August
to reach for her. To say some meaningful words to bring her back.
To accept the apology she’d offered.
But he’d remained frozen,
instead forcing himself to watch her get in the car and eventually
drive away. The begging please she’d cried
ready to piss their pants. Since you supposedly like me, supposedly
I’m least likely to get fired for this. Supposedly.”
Every heartbeat kicked
against his ribs with enough force to leave a bruise on the
outside. He wanted to look. The urge to look taunted
him.
But if he looked it would be
real. The lie would be in black and white for him and all of Denver
to see.
She’d used him. Just to find
out about food, of all things.
Vicky dropped her hand,
apparently satisfied he wouldn’t let go first. “And when you’re
done, the guest at table twenty wants to send compliments to the
chef. Since you’re out here, you might as well go over there for
yourself.”
Minutes passed. He didn’t
know how many. His feet refused to move, the page still remained
clutched in his hand. If he were a smarter man, he’d crumple the
paper into a ball, drop it on one of the nearby tables and walk
away.
Instead, at last, he folded
it into a square and tucked it into his trousers. Later, one
day— someday —he’d
read it. Not today, though.
Forcing his cheeks to lift
and his mouth to part into a smile, August pulled his shoulders
back and strode to table twenty. For everyone’s sakes, so they’d
know this funk wouldn’t get the best of him, he made a show of
greeting guests along the way. Even one of the busboys earned a
high-wattage smile.
Poor guy looked
terrified.
It pulled a strangled
chuckle out of him. If he hadn’t been so intent on figuring out how
to make it up to the busboy, he might have stopped three yards
sooner. Just a few steps and he would have avoided having to look
at her.
But Saffron was watching his
approach. He’d made it too close to turn back now without drawing
the curious attention of other patrons.
When he realized his smile
had fallen, August forced it back into place. It felt wooden and
stupid. Without a doubt it fooled no one. But just as his pushy
sous chef insisted, August smiled.
Despite the empty booth
across from hers and the missing place setting, he stood close
enough to the table to be heard, but far enough away he wouldn’t be
tempted to touch her.
Despite his bruised ego, he
was still very, very tempted.
“ Madame.”
She replied softly,
“Chef.”
An eternity
passed.
“ You look tired.”
“ I work very hard,
Madame.”
“ Oh. I didn’t mean to imply
you didn’t…I mean, crap . I’m sorry, I came to find out…I mean…did you read it? It
came out yesterday.”
Ice filled his veins. “I
made it a habit of mine a long time ago not to read reviews.
They’re very subjective.”
“ I see.” She nibbled on her
lip. The same lip he’d spent hours tonguing until swollen a week
ago. “Vicky said…”
“ What did she say?” The
anger he didn’t realize he harbored sharpened to a fine
point.
“ Listen,” she snapped. His
eyebrows arched in surprise. “I’m paying her three hundred dollars
to occupy this table until you talk to me. Money well spent, but I
damned well plan on getting every penny’s worth.”
He turned on his heel. “Save
your money,” he tossed over his shoulder.
“ August… please .”
The car ride back to the
restaurant that night still haunted him. The awful silence. The
tension wrapping around his neck, snaking into his lungs until he
almost couldn’t breathe.
She hadn’t cried. She hadn’t
begged. And that was almost worse than if she had.
Nine minutes passed as
the two strangers avoided looking at each other. Not talking. Not
touching. The previous hours vanished from their memories. Or at
least they must have vanished from hers. He couldn’t stop thinking
about them.
Too soon he pulled alongside
her car. When she stepped out, something in him screamed for August
to reach for her. To say some meaningful words to bring her back.
To accept the apology she’d offered.
But he’d remained frozen,
instead forcing himself to watch her get in the car and eventually
drive away. The begging please she’d cried
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