“Ezra,” I told her,finding I didn’t have much strength for many words.
Her eyes widenedwith surprise. “Ezra Baptiste?”
“Yes.”
“Is he expectingyou?”
“Yes.”
She puckered herlips and looked toward the bar. “I think he’s in the kitchen tonight, but I’mnot totally sure. I’ll go check.”
When she walked offto hunt down her boss, I picked up a menu. Bianca was considerably smaller thanLilou, but just as fancy. I barely recognized any ofthe dishes on the simple menu and the descriptions were even worse. Even thecocktails seemed written in a different language.
I needed Vera tointerpret the menu for me. From my research, I knew Bianca served modern Frenchcuisine, but that meant nothing to someone who knew zero about high-end food.
My stomach growledanyway. Apparently it didn’t care what they served, just that they had food.And to be honest, after watching several plates being delivered to nearby tables,I couldn’t blame it. Whatever these people were eating looked incredible.
A few minutespassed before Ezra emerged from the kitchen. To my surprise he sported a whitechef’s coat. He pulled off a short, floppy chef’s hat on his way over to me, aserious look on his usually serious face.
“Molly,” he greetedin his typical way. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
I stared at him, mymouth going dry with wonder at this new version of him. He always looked so puttogether in his suits and dress clothes. And the few times I’d seen him cladmore casually had been heart stopping. But this? The white coat hugged histoned arms and muscular chest. He still wore navy blue trousers instead of the usualpants I knew chefs wore. And his shoes were shiny, expensive and out of placein the kitchen. He was… disheveled, and mismatching, and completely gorgeous. “Areyou a chef?”
He cleared histhroat, glancing away from me. “Not formally. But I know my way around akitchen, regardless of what Killian’s told you.”
“He hasn’t told meanything,” I assured him. “I’m just surprised to see you back there.”
His eyes stillrefused to meet mine and if it were any other person I would have guessed thathe was nervous. But this was Ezra after all. The man didn’t get nervous. Oruncomfortable. Or anything but cocky and self-assured. “There was an issue withdinner service. I stepped in to help.”
“That was nice ofyou.”
His smile wasself-deprecating and humble, proving all of my theories about him wrong. “No,it wasn’t. It was completely selfish. I don’t want my restaurant to fail.”
I couldn’t help butlaugh. “Okay, you’re right. It was completely selfish of you to save the day.How dare you take care of your business.”
His lips split in awarm grin, but he changed the subject. “You’re here to see the wall?”
“Is that all right?I don’t want to be a nuisance.”
He waved me off.“It’s fine. We’ll save the painting part for after hours, but take whatevermeasurements you need.”
“Lead the way,” Iprompted him.
He did just that,taking me around the edge of the room until I was face to face with my futureproject. Staring at this giant white space which was basically the biggestcanvas I’d ever been given, finally released the tension that had been bottlingup inside me all day.
I released a happysigh of anticipation and reached out to press my hand on a blank section ofwhite paint. “This is going to be fun,” I whispered.
Ezra turned to me.“Hmm?”
“Nothing.” I walkedaround Ezra to check out more of the wall. “I was just talking to myself.”
“You look happy,”he commented. “Did you have a good day?”
Without looking athim, I admitted, “I had a terrible day.” I ran my finger down the side of ablack picture frame. “But this makes it better.”
I heard the smilein his voice without looking at him. “I was just thinking that.”
Those butterfliescame back full force, jumping and flapping and causing all kinds of chaosinside me. Spinning toward him, I met his gaze bravely. “Do you want to hear myidea?”
