His floofy tail swished behind him in a slow wag. She smiled and pressed a kiss to his white face.
Chapter Sixteen
Her heart in her throat, she sent the text message to Van, letting him know she was sitting at the bar at The Wine Garden. The restaurant was nearly empty, the dinner evening winding down. Only a few people remained at the other end of the polished bar, all of which looked like employees counting workbooks of cash or polishing a bin of silverware. She sat in one of the swiveling barstools as a gentleman with dark, flawless skin and short cropped black hair stepped over to her. He wore black button-down shirt and black slacks, and his white teeth shone brightly in his dark face.
“Hello, miss. What can I get for you?” he asked above the soft instrumental music that played throughout the restaurant.
“Oh, umm,” she said, glancing behind him at the row of liquor and wine bottles. Returning her gaze to his, she smiled and said, “May I please get a glass of Cabernet? Doesn’t matter what kind. I’m just waiting for—”
“Chef?” he asked with a smile, motioning toward the kitchen with his head, and she laughed, nodding. “He said to expect you. Hope, I assume? I’m Jackson.”
“Yes,” she said and smiled again. He nodded and turned to pour her wine, bringing it back to her a moment later. She pulled her purse into her lap, but he waved her off when she attempted to slide him her card.
“Chef made it clear that whatever you want is on the house,” he said and grinned.
Her phone buzzed inside her purse where it was still sitting in her lap. She slipped it out and smiled when she saw Van’s name on her screen, along with the photo of the two of them he’d insisted they take earlier in the day. She had repeatedly opened her phone to the photo library throughout the evening, swiping through the collection of selfies they’d taken together. She never wanted to stop looking at his stupidly handsome face. Swiping open the phone, she read:
Van: I should be set in just a few more minutes. I’ll see you soon, little one.
She smiled and sent back:
Hope: You didn’t have to comp my drink. I can pay for it myself.
She had barely set her phone down on the polished bar when it buzzed. Picking it back up, she rolled her eyes when she read his text.
Van: Say ‘Thank you, Chef’.
She typed back, blushing furiously:
Hope: Thank you, Chef.
Immediately, the three dots popped up on the bottom of the screen, and then:
Van: Good girl. I won’t be long. No flirting with my bartender.
Hope choked on the swallow of wine she just took. The bartender in question stepped over to her, his dark brows drawing together in concern. “Are you alright?”
She nodded, wheezing, as she set her glass down. “Yes, I’m sorry. Wrong tube.”
Swiping through the photos again and sipping the wine, she was surprised when ten minutes had passed and her wine glass was empty in her hand. She felt bad, sitting at the bar while the employees were cleaning around her, and she set the glass on the bar so Jackson could clear it. Instead, he held up the bottle of cabernet and asked if she would like another. Glancing at the time, she then nodded. Why not.
Van swooped in over her shoulder a few minutes later, leaning over her and planting a full, thorough kiss on her lips. When he pulled away, she felt a blush spread across her cheeks, unsure if it was from his kiss or the wine she’d consumed. She bit her lip and glanced sideways at the employees that remained sitting at the far end of the bar, who had stopped talking amongst themselves and were shamelessly staring at them.
“If you’re done for the evening, make sure Michelle checks you all out before you leave,” Van called down the bar, and the three employees averted their gazes, fumbling with their cashbooks and the heavy bin of silverware. She blushed a darker shade of red when she heard a chorus of “Yes, Chef” come from the three of them.
“I have to bandage a slice on one of my new kids’ hands and it might take a bit, do you want me to take you to Grant’s office? Are you ready to talk?” he asked, leaning against the bar to herright, his right arm crossed over her body and holding onto the curve of her left hip.
“Sure,” she said and nodded, her heart climbing into her throat. Van stepped back and assisted her from her seat, making a low whistle.
“I will never get tired of looking at you,” he whispered huskily, ducking his head to run his lips along the curve of her jaw. “So beautiful.”
She blushed and rolled her eyes. “It’s just a skirt, Van.”
He held her away from him at arm’s length and looked at her fully as he walked backward toward a door labeled for employees only.
She wore a pretty, dark gold/burnt umber wrap skirt in a silky, satiny material that floated around her knees with a soft ruffle along the edge and up one leg to where it tied at her waist. A simple black, cropped sweater covered her arms and chest, the hem tucked into the waist of her skirt at the front. A pair of comfortable black ballerina flats adorned her feet.
“My statement stands,” he murmured low as they passed down the hallway, squeezing her hand lightly. He stopped them beside a door and nodded to it. “I just have to bandage this kid’s hand. If you’re not out in the restaurant when I’m done, I’ll wait for you, okay? Do you need me to come in with you?”
