A server walked by with a tray that had some kind of seafood on it. Was it still moving?Shudder. No thanks. If anything on my plate moved or mooed, I would send it back so fast and would have to make do with some trail mix or something to survive on. Luckily, when my food arrived, it wasnotmoving. Everything blessedly stayed in place. I was impressed by the sight of the dish. Not only did it smell amazing, but it looked like a work of art.
A smear of creamy parsnips coated the plate, with a bright green pea purée drizzled over it. Fanned out on top were slices of a beautifully roasted portobello mushroom.Damn. My mouth was watering at the sight. I wasn’t used to anything this fancy. Most often, when I went out to restaurants, I had to settle for veggie burgers or fried tofu—not that there was anything wrong with those, but there weren’t usually a lot of vegetarian options. Okay, maybe this place wasn’t so weird. I only hoped I could afford the bill when it came, because there were no prices on the menu. I added it to the problem-for-another-day list.
The first bite exploded with flavor in my mouth, making a moan slip out. I looked around, catching a few other guests looking at me and quickly looking away. Fuck, that was good. The second bite was even better. I would happily pay whatever this meal costs me, because it might just be the best damn bite of food I’d ever had.
As I sat there, my shoulders bouncing in a little happy food dance, I felt a presence loom over me. Wiping my mouth, I lifted my eyes to find a tall man with shocking white hair standing beside my table. An elastic headband kept the long hair out of his face, and he wore an apron with the inn’s logo on it.
“Is your meal to your satisfaction?” the man asked.
I sat up a little straighter. “Yes, shit, it’s incredible. I’ve never had anything like it.”
A slight smirk stretched the man’s mouth, and he gave a nod. “Good. I'm glad you’re enjoying it.”
My head bobbed, not really sure what this man was expecting as he stood at my table. Small talk? Was he wanting small talk? Or more praise? I didn’t know. I just wanted to be left alone so I could return to my food. “Um, it'sreallygood?”
“Is that a question?” he asked with a look of amusement and curiosity.
“No?” my voice crept up again. I coughed to clear my throat and try to force my words to sound normal. “Kudos to the chef.”
“That would be me. I’m Zephyr.”
“Thanks… um, Zephyr.”
He offered me a smile and crossed his arms over his broad chest. And…didn’tleave. What the fuck! Shifting in my seat, I asked, “Is there a problem?”
“I don’t know. Is there?” He looked down his sharp nose at me.
Fucking hell. Was this guy looking for a fight or something? If so, I was the absolute last person for that. Fighting was not in my nature; I preferred avoidance. Avoiding humans and seeking the company of animals. I could really use a critter to talk to right about now. “Listen, I just want to enjoy my meal, if that’s all right. Unless… you didn’t like spit in it or something?”
His appalled expression looked like I had landed a blow more devastating than any punch I could throw. “I wouldnevermess with someone’s food.”
I glanced at my plate with relief because, damn, I really wanted to finish it. “Okay, good.”
The chef placed his hands on the edge of my table and leaned down to whisper, “What brought you here?”
I’d never had a stronger desire to have a conversation end than this one right now. I had no idea what I’d done to gain his attention or why he seemed bothered by my existence. In an effort to try to calm whatever the fuck this situation was, I forced a laugh and said, “Would you believe me if I said a cat told me to comehere?”
“A cat?” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in a look I couldn’t read. I expected him to scoff or roll his eyes or something, but he seemed so caught off guard by my statement that he didn’t know what to do with it. Yup, there’s my secret weapon. I didn’t have to be bigger or stronger; I just had to out-weird the other person.Superpowers for the win. I tried to keep the sarcasm to myself, hoping he would just leave.
Zephyr opened his mouth to respond, but someone called out from the kitchen. “Chef? We need you.”
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and straightened. He looked toward the kitchen and back at me. “Remember, there are eyes everywhere.”
At that, he hurried to the kitchen as I sat stunned. “What the actual fuck?”
In less than twenty-four hours, I had one man literally run from me, and somehow made an enemy out of another. For what? I didn’t even do anything. I didn’t even want to be here in the first place. So much for a relaxing evening.
My gaze lowered to my half-eaten dinner, only now I looked at it with suspicion instead of admiration. My lips pursed as I tried to decide if it was worth eating more, but then the look on the chef’s face when he said he would never mess with someone’s food was serious enough to make me believe it. And I was going to have a hard time walking away from the best dish of my life. “Fuck it.”
Eagerto get out of there in case Zephyr decided to return, I ate a little more quickly while trying to savor the flavor sensation. Every bite was better than the last. I refrained from picking up the plate and licking the remains off it, but just barely. When I called for the server and asked for the check, he simply shook his head.
“No. There’s no check. Your stay is inclusive, which means the meals are included. Tips are welcome, though.” He offered me a smile.
Damn. Free clothes, free food, delicious food at that. With this kind of treatment, perhaps I could tolerate the bizarre interactions that came with it. I fished out my wallet and looked inside. I didn’t often carry cash with me, and I certainly didn’t expect to need any. “Um, sorry, can I put my tip on my room’s account?”
“Of course. Thank you. I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay.” He dipped his head and cleared my dishes.
Needing to get away from people, I went through the main lobby and out the front doors. A directional sign was posted with arrows to different amenities or activities, but I really just wanted to avoid any further interaction. One arrow marked a walking path, which seemed like my best bet. It wound around the large main building and past the private casitas. The path cut through some of the woods, with torches lining the walkway, much like the one that I’d followed from the dock.
