CHAPTER 8
Don’t kiss her.
Don’t. Fucking. Kiss her.
Fuck.
Beau forced himself to lean back into his chair and away from her. Away from that too tempting mouth. Forced himself to pick up his fork and take a stab at the duchess potatoes on his plate. Forced his hand to rise and take the bite of potatoes off his fork between his teeth.
She shifted in her seat beside him. Her breathing was shallow, ragged, her chest rising and falling with each panting breath. Those red painted lips closed around another bite of her food, and he forced the groan that rumbled up his chest to remain silent. His cock was hard as steel in his pants.
Guilt made his chest ache, and he fought the urge to press his hand over his sternum. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about Val like this. He wasn’t supposed to have a raging hard-on for her. It was Val, the girl he’d known for three decades. The girl he’d chased around the yard with grasshoppers as she screamed in pretend terror. The girl he’d given rides home from school to. The girl he’d promised her father he would look out for.
But fuck if he couldn’t stop from thinking about her, making his dick even harder. He was sure he had to be leaking precum at this point. He was so hard it hurt. Shifting in his own seat, he attempted to reposition his aching cock in his pants, but the shift just made it worse.
Unsorted inventory. Spilled coffee grounds in my sock. Curdled milk in the walk in. Fuck, he’d think ofanything, to make this hard-on go away!
He glanced up when someone stopped beside their table, and he made his best attempt at a smile, though he was sure it came out more as a grimace. There was also no way he was going to be able to stand up and shake the man’s hand; if he did, the raging erection he was sporting was going to be on full display, right in front of and level with Val’s face.
So, he remained seated, though he did set his knife and fork down to reach out for the hand being extended to him as his friend spoke. “Good evening. I do hope everything has been to your liking. Beau, thank you for bringing such a beautiful woman into our restaurant.”
Beau nodded, but his teeth clenched together so tightly his jaw ached when he watched Val’s cheeks tinge pink again with a blush as she stared up at the stupidly handsome chef. He extended his hand to Val, who placed hers in his, and they shook briefly. A pristine white chef jacket was buttoned closed, and once the handshake was done, the man placed his hands behind his back.
“Van, this is Val, a good friend of mine. Val, this is Van, the executive chef, and Grant’s business partner.” He forced his tone to remain neutral through the introductions. Though he knew Van would never overstep, he also didn’t like the way he was staring at her. She was his.
“Grant came back and told me you’d arrived, and with a beauty on your arm. I had to come see for myself; and must I say, he was not exaggerating.”
Val made a sound that came out like a choked sort of giggle, and Beau narrowed his eyes on his buddy. “Alright, Casanova. Don’t you have a kitchen to terrorize?”
Van laughed, tipping back his blonde head, but then he winked down at Val. “I’ll leave you two to your meals. Val, it was wonderful to meet you. You make this old man look good.” Beau rolled his eyes and smirked over at Val, who blushed again. “Beau, you grumpy old cuss, make sure you bring her back to see us again soon.”
Beau nodded and raised the glass of bourbon to his lips to take a sip before clearing his throat. “You’re a menace, Van.”
Van chuckled as he walked away, back toward the heavy doors that led into the commercial kitchen. Val laughed and shook her head as she took a drink of her wine, and she glanced over at him over the rim of her wine glass. He swallowed hard when their eyes met and held.
“Sorry about that,” he said gruffly, notching his chin toward the door that Van had disappeared into. The waiter took their empty plates, and Beau placed his napkin on the table in front of him.
“Self-proclaimed bachelor Beau Collins is on a Valentine’s date,” she said softly, leaning toward him, her eyes shining with mischief. “That’s got to be something newsworthy around this town. You might have to start fighting off Mama’s that are looking to marry off their daughters.”
He couldn’t control the shiver of aversion that shook him, and the laugh that erupted out of Val made him grin. He liked seeing her happy. She didn’t smile enough anymore. He’d missed it.
Shit, he’d missedher.
The waiter returned to their table with a puffy chocolate raspberry souffle dusted with confectioners’ sugar into the shape of a heart, a sprig of mint and a fresh raspberry perched on top. The waiter set it down between them and Beau raised his eyes in question. “Compliments of Chef Laurance.”
Val oooh’d over the dessert. Beau chuckled lightly and handed her one of the spoons perched on the side of the plate. “I think we’re supposed to share this. You don’t have cooties, do you?”
“Of course not, but all boys have cooties,” Val laughed again, throwing him a teasing glance. She took the spoon from him and waved it idly and winked at him. “I’m pretty sure I’m up to date on my cootie shots, so I think I’m safe from you.”
Beau laughed out loud, a full grin pulling across his face. He reached out and tugged lightly on one of the tendrils of hair that framed her face. “You’re always safe with me.”
CHAPTER 9
They battled with their spoons over the last bite of souffle, but Beau graciously let her win. After a second glass of wine, Val was just tipsy enough and deliciously full of the divine food to be nearly boneless.
“I know we should get up and let them turn over this table, but I don’t want to move,” she murmured wistfully. “I don’t know that Icanmove. That was all… incredible. I can’t believe I’ve never been here.”
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She knew why she’d never been into this restaurant before now. It was intimate, romantic. And nothing about her life in the last year had been either intimateorromantic.
