Round and grabbable.
Perfectly sized for my hands.
Why do the worst of them always have the best bodies?
And why do I always have to notice?
Especially when I have an audience and cannot scowl about it without being noticed?
Top on my list of things to scowl about—I am, unfortunately, stupidly happy to be here.
I still have questions for Bea—research questions that I have no qualms about asking without telling her why—but until Jakeappeared at our tableside, I’d almost forgotten that I was ever irritated with her.
Aileen strides into the room with a silver pitcher and starts refilling water glasses at the other table.
The two gentlemen who took an interest in Bea’s intentions are first.
“Not to be that person,” the taller of the two says to Aileen, “but service seems…slow. We finished our fondue twenty minutes ago.”
“First night kinks.” She casts a glance at me, catches me watching her, and turns back to them, lowering her voice. Lucky for me, I have excellent hearing. “And you didn’t hear this from me, but Jake and Chef are fighting about menu modifications.”
Both men peer at me.
I pretend to not notice as I drain the last of the champagne.
Such a pity.
The bottle’s run out.
It was quite delicious. I can see why it’s popular.
And I gave half of it to Beatrice Best.
The trickster.
I wonder if she’s ever been called Trixie as a nickname. I shall have to try it.
It fits her devious little mind.
All the better if she doesn’t like it.
“An all-cheese menu was never a good idea anyway,” the shorter of the two men whispers. “Do they not know what that does to a normal person’s digestive system?”
“That’s what Chef said too. And you didn’t hear that from me either. I’m like, theonlyperson on staff who seems to think so.”
I stifle a smile that pops out automatically.
And then a hiccup.
Possibly I shouldn’t have drunk a half bottle of champagne on an empty stomach.
The Asiago bread is likely worth the risk of later discomfort.
Goodness only knows I say things I shouldn’t when I’m tipsy. Wrong crowd for that tonight.
“How bad is the fighting?” the shorter man asks.
“I really shouldn’t say if I want to keep my job,” Aileen whispers back.
