Olivia slips out of my grasp. She’s retreating.
“Where are you from?” I direct the question to Olivia, and she halts but stays silent.
“Toronto,” Tamsin and Erin say in unison.
Olivia fidgets with her arms, folding and unfolding them. On edge. I know how she feels.
“Ah. How long are you here for?” Again, my question is for Olivia.
I wish we were alone.
Finally, she clears her throat, and her friends let her have the floor. “We leave Monday.” Her tone is smooth and strong, defying the uneasiness she just displayed.
Her deep, penetrating eyes pin me to the spot like an arrow hitting its mark, and before I can think better of it, the words tumble out. “Have dinner with me.”
Not a question. A command.
She stares for a beat, stunned. Hell, I’m stunned too. I’ve never asked out a guest. Ever. This could backfire spectacularly, but I can’t take it back.
“Sweet Baby J,” Erin blurts, laughing harshly. “I can’t even.” She crosses her arms and shoots daggers at Olivia.
What is that about? Tamsin frowns at Erin. Olivia appears shocked, but I’m not sure if it’s because of my question or Erin’s behavior. Erin strikes me as a woman who is used to the attention, but I’m not willing to give it to her. She’s not my concern.
“Olivia,” I press, bracing myself.
She squares her shoulders, and instinct punches through me. The harsh truth that she’s about to shoot me down hits hard, sinks deep in my gut.
“Um, thank you, Sam, but I’m going to have to decline.”
She sounds so formal and I suspect it’s deliberate. A way to put a barrier between us, remind us what this is, where we are.
Before I respond, my hostess, Marie, appears. “Chef, sorry to disturb you. May I have a word?”
I nod and glance to the women. “Excuse me.” I look to Olivia before stepping away, one last look that promises this isn’t over.
With short nods, they leave, and Marie informs me Monsieur Daniel Thibault is here. He’s an acquaintance, a fan, and potentially more. When he discovered I might open another restaurant, he reached out and expressed interested in investing. I have to talk to him.
I nod and follow Marie to our best table, although I keep an eye on Olivia, now talking to her server.
“Welcome to Beaulieu’s. Glad you finally made it.” I shake his hand, turning on the warmth.
Daniel Thibault stands from the table, laughing, and claps me on the back. “Sam, good to be here. It’s my daughter’s birthday. Yasmine.” He gestures to the petite lady sitting beside him. “She’s as interested as I am in the culinary world, and I’m treating her to dinner in one of the best restaurants in town. Yasmine, this is Sam Beaulieu, the magnificent chef I was telling you all about.”
The wisp of a woman smiles, her ruby lips a sharp contrast to her fair features and light blonde hair. “Mr. Beaulieu, it’s a pleasure.”
“The pleasure’s mine.” It’s my go-to response while my mind is already half in the kitchen—and half still on Olivia.
“Sit. Join us.” Thibault sits once again and pulls out the empty chair next to him.
“I’d love to join you, but the kitchen needs me. Let me prepare something special for you both.” I pivot to Yasmine. “In celebration of your birthday.”
My goal is to blow them away.
They both eagerly nod.
“Excellent.” I clasp my hands together in front of me. “Any allergies, sensitivities, or anything you don’t like?”
“Surprise us, my boy. We’ll eat anything.” Daniel chuckles.
