Leaning in, his chest bumped my shoulder and it was all I could do to remain completely still. Lest I do something ridiculous like shiver. Or swoon. Or tackle him to the ground and start dry-humping him. “You’re not interested in me,” he murmured, quietly enough that the kitchen couples couldn’t hear him. “If I remember correctly. I was totally up for a more memorable round two.”
The devil was all over his mischievous face when he backed away, a snarky challenge sparking in his eyes.
My cheeks flamed red, embarrassment burned like a wildfire in my blood. “Were you now?”
“You’re the one that put on the brakes, Dillon. Not me.”
I gaped at him as he pranced into the kitchen all high and mighty.
Okay, he didn’t prance.
But he might as well have. Cocky bastard.
Everyone cheered for Vann’s oranges, like he’d managed something spectacular. But hello? I brought the cheap champagne.
I filled my plate with quiche and a Bavarian crème and a kruller—because I wanted to make Molly feel better for buying all these pastries, obvi.
And fine, I grabbed an orange too. But that was more to ward off the very real and present threat of scurvy than because I wanted to make Vann feel like people actually wanted what he brought.
We gathered around Ezra’s table, our plates laden with good food and carbs and love. Mimosas and hot mugs of coffee were passed around and great conversation commenced.
I could tell Vann was a little nervous, except around Molly. These weren’t his regular people apparently. And we were a little short-staffed without Vera and Killian present.
He’d ended up in the seat directly across from me and so every once in a while, I would catch his eye and we would look away quickly, pretending we didn’t notice each other.
What was I supposed to do with this guy?
He was right. I had put on the brakes. Immediately.
But now I wasn’t so sure that was the best idea. I was clearly attracted to him. I liked to flirt with him. I liked to look at him. I would like to know if I liked to do other things with him…
That same drunken image of his naked body over mine flashed in my head.
I shook my head and took a sip of coffee. “Dillon’s thinking about switching up the weekend at Bianca and doing brunch instead of supper.”
Everyone looked at me, eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Bianca needs a new approach,” I explained with a shrug. “What we’re doing right now isn’t working. I need to make some big changes. And fast.”
“When are you thinking of changing things up?” Kaya asked.
“Soon.” I looked at Molly. “I’d like to jumpstart the change with a social media campaign.”
She nodded excitedly. “Of course. I love the idea. It would be such a good location for breakfast. And all that natural light and white décor. That place was built for Saturday mornings on Instagram.”
I smiled at her praise. She wasn’t exactly the food expert in the group, but she was exactly my target market. Her enthusiasm was encouraging.
“That’s a good call, Dillon,” Wyatt put in. “It might be a hard adjustment for your staff though.”
“We’ve been talking about it quite a bit. I have some strategies we’re going to try. Worst case, I hire a few additional servers and line cooks. It should be a pretty simple menu. I want uncomplicated elegance.”
“Casual French is how she pitched it to me,” Ezra added. Then shrugged, his expression melting into admiration. “The concept is impossible not to love. Hopefully execution is as easily embraced.”
I felt Vann’s stare all over my skin, making me hot and hyper aware of him and stupidly nervous. “Hopefully,” I said meekly.
“Thinking like a real head chef now, huh?” Vann’s voice held this note of gloating that made me immediately furious.
And overly warm.
