I cleared mythroat, hoping to magically get better at speaking. “I’ll just start withwater. Thank you.”
“I’ll be rightback,” Sienna promised.
Ezra smiled down atme when she’d disappeared. “I will be too. I just have to make sureeverything’s running smoothly. Flag Sienna down if you need anything, or any ofthe wait staff if you can’t find her. This is my usual table so they’ll checkon you.”
“Okay.”
He started to walkaway, but paused halfway between me and the kitchen in door. “You’ll wait forme?”
His uncertaintymade something hum inside me. “I’ll wait for you,” I confirmed.
That rare smileappeared, transforming his entire aura into relaxed happiness. It was amazinghow he could switch it on and off. He went from intimidating dictator onesecond to blindingly beautiful in the next.
Not that he’d beenmuch of a dictator tonight. In fact, he’d been really kind and thoughtful andattentive. Surely that would change. When he came back we’d find something toargue about. There weren’t two people that were more different than us. It wasonly a matter of time before we slipped back into our old habits.
He’d order me to dosomething. I would obviously refuse. He’d argue with me. I would win theargument this time. Then he’d have me escorted from the premises.
Which would be theperfect ending to my already stellar Monday.
But for somereason, I was looking forward to sparring with him.
Instead of dwellingon my work day, I pulled out my phone and started discreetly googling theingredients to the French dishes he wanted me to pick from. They weren’t anyhelp. I thought about grabbing Sienna to see if she could help make sense ofthe menu, but I chickened out when she refilled my water.
After a few minutesof waiting, Ezra returned to the table sans chef’s coat. He ran a hand throughhis hair several times on the way to the table as if trying to get it to obeyagain after it had been held captive beneath his chef’s hat. That alone shouldhave kept my attention for the next fiveyearsseconds, but there was somuch more to him than just the hair.
He was wearing at-shirt. A t-shirt!
I had never seenhim in a t-shirt before. And to be honest, I had never once, not one singletime, thought a t-shirt could be revolutionary. But on Ezra it somehow was.
He looked youngerand more relaxed. His arms were on display for the first time ever and they didnot disappoint. Muscular and defined just like I knew they would be. Heinstantly made me recommit to five-thirty in the morning spin class.
His smile was bigand genuine, gentle in a way that was so unexpected from him. He sat downacross from me and I thought that maybe this was the moment I fell in love withhim. Or okay, not love, but definitely lust.
So much lust.
He leaned forward,relaxing his elbows on the table. “Did you decide what you’re going to eat?”
I cleared my throatand forced my gaze to the menu so I wouldn’t be tempted to stare at him. “Itall looks so good.” Okay, moment of honesty, I had no idea what any of thiswas, but I was positive it would be good. So that counted, right? “I’m just notsure which one to pick. What are your, um, favorites?”
“The coq au vin isspectacular,” he answered casually. “Also our duck confit was saved when Ifired Marcel. I’m happy with how the kitchen has been preparing it lately.”
Yes, my best friendwas a chef, but that didn’t mean I’d paid attention to anything she’d ever saidabout cooking before. Just like she couldn’t pick up a paintbrush and doanything useful with it just because she was friends with me. To be honest,when she started talking about food, I usually tuned out the Charlie Brownteacher voice that made zero sense.
But hindsight wastwenty-twenty, and what I wouldn’t give to remember at least a few of herhelpful tidbits! Like what the heck was coq au vin? Was that a meat? Or a wine?And duck might be okay, but was the confit part of it something weird? Like theintestines or something? One thing I knew about chefs was that they werewilling to eat anything. And most of the time the weirder the food got, thebetter the acclaim. Like beef hearts and tongue, and thousand year eggs.
I didn’t think Iwas up for the strange parts of a duck tonight.
When I didn’trespond, Ezra added, “Or is there something you’d rather have that’s not on themenu? I can have them make you whatever you want. Just name what you’re hungryfor.”
My cheeks heated athis generous offer. “Actually, I just can’t decide. Sorry. Usually Vera ordersfor me when we go out. Everything looks amazing. I don’t know what to get.”
“Ah.” He tugged onthe menu and I easily gave it up. “Do you mind if I order for us then? Wouldyou like to try a few things and we could share them?”
I let out a deepbreath of relief. “I would love that.”
“How do you feelabout mussels?”
“Go for it.Whatever you think is best.” And if I didn’t like any of it, I could alwaysstop at Taco Bell on the way home. Justsayin’.
