“Oh wow.”
“Mr. Allen?” Farzan swiveled on his stool; Kyra, the host, was standing next to him. It took him a moment to remind himself thathewas Mr. Allen.
“Yeah?”
“We’ve got a table ready for you, if you’ll follow me.”
“Oh. That was fast.” He turned back to the bartender. “Cheers, uh…”
“Tonya.”
“Tonya. Thanks. This is perfect.”
Tonya gave him a luminous smile. “Enjoy!”
Farzan planned to.
He was ready to savor the wine, and the fries, and—if he was lucky—the view. The guy worked here, so surely Farzan would see him again. He had no idea if the man was into other men, or if he was single, or what.
But it never hurt to look. Right?
four
David
David was heading to table 12 with a Chablis when Tonya stopped him to check if the Gramercy was okay to sell by the glass, since they were down to their last case. As he assured her it was, he skimmed the bar, glad to see Aspire had a full crowd even on a Tuesday night. But something stopped him.
Well, not something. Someone.
He wasn’t a regular, that was for sure. David had never seen him before. He had brown, sunset skin, silky black hair with a gentle curl to it, a bit of dark scruff that gave his chin some character, and—fuck.
The most beautiful pair of brown eyes David had ever seen in his life. Heavy-lidded, beneath a strong brow, and so, so warm. David was ready to drown in them before he realized he was staring, and shit, the guy saw him.
David looked away quickly, because he was absolutely not in the habit of creeping on their customers. He’d learned that lesson several times over back in Chicago: Michelin-star restaurants attracted Michelin-star assholes. So there was no fucking way he’d be anything other than professional, assuming he even talked to the customer.
But damn, those eyes. Lively and a little bit sad and so, so beautiful.
David shook himself and got his ass in gear; table 12 had ordered a bottle. He uncorked it and checked the scent (clean and crisp) before handing it over and pouring a taste. When the couple at the table—an older pair of femmes—approved, David poured them both full glasses, set the bottle in a marble chilling bucket, and took the back way through the kitchen to avoid the bar.
No sense tempting fate. His stomach gave an awkward little wiggle at the thought of seeing Mr. Brown Eyes again. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath—
And ran right into Kyra.
“Shit! Sorry.” He steadied her with a hand on her arm.
“This is why you call corner, David.”
“There’s not even a corner.” The back hall leading off the kitchen was a straight shot.
“Details.” Kyra waved him off. “You need something?”
David shook his head. “I’m good, you?”
“Bio break.” Kyra narrowed her eyes. “Why are you back here then?”
“Avoiding the crowd.” David gestured down the corridor. “May I?”
Kyra gave a long-suffering sigh. “I suppose.”
