The man’s eyebrows rose as he glanced at Daniel, who still wasn’t looking at him.
“I see,” Remi replied.
Well, I sure as hell didn’t. Before I could think of anything else to say, Remi morphed from a flirtatious man into an expressionless server.
“What would you like to drink?” he asked.
“Iced tea, please,” Daniel answered.
Remi turned to me. “For you?”
“Uh, water’s fine.”
“I’ll be back in a minute to take your order.”
He walked away, moving with grace as he wove between the tables.
As soon as he disappeared into the kitchen, I smacked Daniel’s arm. “What in the hell was that?” I asked.
“What?” he asked, his eyes still on the menu.
Somehow, I was certain he already had the damn thing memorized and was just staring at it to be an ass, but we’d declared a truce, however shaky it was.
I would get my revenge, but I was kind of tired today, so I wanted to reserve my energy.
“Why did you talk to your friend that way?” I asked.
Daniel snorted, still not looking at me. “He’s not my friend.”
Sick of his attitude, I snatched the menu out of his hand. “You already know what you’re ordering, so stop hiding behind a prop and tell me what your problem is.”
He leaned back against the red booth. “Has our truce ended so quickly?”
“We still have a truce if you stop acting like a butthead.”
“I’ve known Remi for years. He flirts with every woman he meets, and it gets tiresome especially when I know he prefers one-night-stands.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can spot a professional flirt from a mile away. If you’re worried I’ll fall in love with him, don’t.”
Daniel snorted. “I wasn’t worried about that. I just didn’t want to listen to his spiel.”
Remi came out of the kitchen, a tray in his hands. He came straight to our table and placed our drinks in front of us. A basket of sliced bread and a bowl of herbs and aromatics followed. He removed a bottle of what appeared to be oil from the tray and tucked the disc beneath his arm. With a flourish, he poured oil over the herbs.
“We didn’t order this, did we?” I asked Daniel.
Remi spoke before Daniel did.
“On the house.” Then, he winked at me.
While he was very, very pretty, I was certain that Daniel hadn’t been exaggerating when he said the server hit on every woman he met.
“Thanks,” I said, leaning back in the booth and resting my hands in my lap.
As I expected, he saw my physical withdrawal and took it in stride. Definitely a seasoned flirt.
“Have you decided what you want to eat?” he asked me, suddenly all business.
“I’ll take a Margherita pizza and a house salad with tomato vinaigrette.”
