“I think a glass of the Butterfly Riesling sounds wonderful,” she said, flipping the menu closed.Butterfly. She smiled up at the waitress, who nodded. “Thank you so much.”
“Of course,” Teresa said and smiled again. Addressing them both, she said, “As soon as the other gals arrive, I’ll come back and go over tonight’s specials.”
“Perfect,” Jade called softly, laughing. “Thank you!”
The waitress retreated, leaving Hope and Jade alone for only a moment before two women joined them at the table, sinking into chairs with warm hellos. Introductions were made, and before Teresa was back with their wines, two more ladies showed up, taking the last two seats. Hope learned that three of the women worked with Jade at the salon and the other one worked with her at the gym as a personal trainer.
When they all had ordered drinks and the bread with olive oil and balsamic glaze had been delivered to the table, they settled into easy conversation. They all seemed fun and friendly,and Hope found herself enjoying herself immensely. Dinner was served and they dug in ravenously. Jade had been right; this place was to die for.
Teresa brought a fresh glass of wine and Hope sipped it. She was having a good time for the first time in what felt like too long. Taking a large swallow of her wine, she welcomed the heat that bloomed across her cheeks, just buzzed enough to feel relaxed and happy. She almost forgot to think about Van and Grant. Almost.
“Oohh, there’s Price,” one of Jade’s friends whispered, gesturing across the room. Hope glanced around, just barely seeing a broad set of shoulders pass from the hostess stand toward the kitchen before disappearing through the swinging door. “It’s like they interviewed for hottest bosses or something for this place. I’d never get anything done if I worked here. I’d just stare at them both all the time.”
“I hope Chef makes an appearance tonight,” another friend said wistfully, glancing at the doors that led to the commercial kitchen in the back.
“He usually does, at least at some point,” Jade said and nodded. Speaking to Hope, she said, “He’s so hot, Hope. Like, ugh.So hot.”
The other ladies laughed and agreed. Hope’s throat seized and she smiled the best she could. She missedherhot chef.
Chapter Eight
Aheadache was starting at the base of his skull, and Grant pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. It had been one hell of a day. Firing Nolan, who threw a tantrum to rival a toddler, had just been the start. Reworking the floor plan for the evening after pulling Michelle off the rotation and putting her behind the bar was easy, his staff was competent and—for the most part—trustworthy.
Making his way out of his office and down a short hallway, he pushed open the door that led to the main room of the restaurant. It was a decently busy Friday evening, despite the fact that they were finally out of their busy season now that the majority of the tourists had taken their leave. From October to April, the little city of Petoskey got a reprieve from the influx of tourists and vacationers. It was always a much-needed rest before they all returned for the summertime.
Nodding to Michelle and Jackson behind the bar, he made his way toward the hostess stand to check on Jenny. She was young, barely eighteen, but handled the front with surprising efficiency. He rarely had to worry about her, but wanted to check in nonetheless.
Rolling his shoulders beneath the nearly black, dark aubergine purple button down he had on, he was glad he’d forgone the tie for the evening. Reaching up, he unbuttoned the second button at his throat. The sleeves were already rolled to his forearms, ready to assist wherever needed for the night. Dark gray slacks and black shoes completed the outfit, though he couldn’t wait to get home and finally get into something more comfortable. And pour a hefty tumbler of bourbon.
Had he mentioned it had been a day?
“Jenny,” he said gently as he came up behind the young girl, who turned and smiled hesitantly. He’d snapped at her earlier in the evening and felt like an absolute ass about it. “How is everything going tonight? No issues?”
“None at all, Mr. Price,” Jenny said, her smile faltering slightly. He cursed himself again. He wasn’t the asshole boss, but this day… shit, thisweek… had been a hellish one. “It’s been smooth sailing. We’ve got this.”
“Good,” he said and winked. He liked Jenny. She reminded him of his niece, who he didn’t get to see nearly often enough. He made a mental note to send her home with one of Van’s Crème Brule’s as an apology. “I’ll go check on the kitchen. Find me if you need anything.”
She nodded, dropping her eyes from his. Dammit, he felt like a heel. He turned and headed toward the kitchen. Their regular group of ladies laughed from the center of the room and he glanced over briefly before continuing to the kitchen to check on Van.
Pushing into the kitchen, he assessed the room. Organized chaos, is what Van called it. His business partner and best friend stood on this side of the metal expo rail, white chef jacket pristine as always, his blonde hair pushed back away from his face. He was calling orders out while garnishing a plate before turning and handing it to a waitress, who disappeared with itback out the kitchen doors. Van nodded at him as he made his way through the kitchen, then turned back to his staff.
“I need that lambchop, Derek,” Van called across the line to a redheaded cook, who nodded.
“Yes, Chef,” he called back, pulling the lambchop out of the pan and placing it on a white square plate, before passing it to Van.
“Looks great,” Van said.
Derek nodded again and said, “Thank you, Chef.”
Another waitress zipped past, carrying a charred romaine salad topped with feta, roasted apple, and toasted cinnamon pecans in one hand. The lambchop with Van’s famous duchess potatoes and roasted Brussel sprouts drizzled with balsamic in the other. They smelled delicious and looked beautiful on the plate, as always.
“Everything going alright back here?” Grant asked Van as he stepped up beside him.
“Easy Friday night,” Van said, glancing at him briefly. Van had given him wide berth for the day and he hated himself all over again. He was never the asshole, but damn had today made him grouchy. “How’s it going out there?”
“Just about to do a round of table touches,” Grant said, and Van nodded. “Call if you need anything.”
“We’re good back here,” Van said, and Grant sighed, nodding.
