“VIP parking?” Riley joked.
“This is my dad’s restaurant.”
She winced. “Isn’t it a little soon for us to be inflicting ourselves on your family again?”
He squeezed her knee. “My dad doesn’t work Monday nights.”
She perked up. “In that case, I’m starving! I haven’t had anything since the tequila and eggs.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t need to vomit after that.” He took her hand and led her around the building to the front.
Small Plates was a cozy tapas place tucked away on North Street under a red awning. It was his father’s newest restaurant. All of the tables on the sidewalk were occupied. He pulled Riley inside to the host stand and stopped short.
“Nicky! What the hell are you doing here?” Miguel said with very little enthusiasm behind the host stand.
“What areyoudoing here, Dad? You don’t work Mondays.”
“What?”
“What are you doing here?” Nick repeated loud enough for the words to carry over the noisy buzz inside.
“This is my restaurant. Why wouldn’t I be here?” his father bellowed.
Nick sighed. “It’s Monday. You don’t work Mondays.”
“I do when half the waitstaff and the dishwasher quit on me!” The desk phone rang, and Miguel answered it with a snarl. “What do you want? I’m busy here!”
“I can’t imagine why half your staff would quit on you,” Nick said dryly.
“They hung up. People have no phone etiquette these days. You shouldn’t be here. It hasn’t been long enough to get over the hurtful things your girlfriend said after I so graciously fed her.”
“Need an expo, Miguel,” a harried woman in a long white apron barked as she hauled ass out of the kitchen.
“I’m coming!”
“I’m taking Riley on a date. The service might suck here, but the food is good.”
“You’re damn right the food is good. But I dunno if you deserve the good food.”
Nick blew out a breath and surveyed the restaurant. There were dirty dishes stacked on empty tables and disgruntled-looking customers waiting for food. He’d grown up in kitchens in Harrisburg and knew what was expected. Family lent a hand, even when family was pissed. “Fine. But you owe us a five-course meal plus dessert, and you can’t be a dick about anything.”
“Three-course and you share a dessert. I can’t promise the dick thing.”
“Deal,” Nick said and turned to Riley. “You ready to earn your supper?”
“I don’t even have to wear a skirt that shows off my hoo-ha? Count me in,” she said with a grin.
“You can wear one later. For me,” he told her.
She blew him a kiss and tackled the closest dirty table with the dish bin.
Nick snagged the ringing phone at the host stand and sent a wink in the direction of all of the waiting female patrons. “I’ll be right with you folks,” he promised.
Working in tandem, he and Riley divided and conquered effortlessly, shifting between front of house and back of house duties. Tables were cleared, food run, dishes washed, and inconvenienced patrons were charmed within an inch of their lives. He’d never had the opportunity to watch Riley on the clock when she was undercover at Nature Girls. But the woman was a natural in a restaurant. She even barked a few orders at his father when Miguel plated the wrong steak. And when his dad asked her if she was going to let the fish sit in the window until it rotted, Riley had responded with a cheery “Bite me, Miguel.”
She fit right in.
An hour and a half later, the bulk of the dinner crowd was fed and pleased enough to leave sizable tips.
