“Perfect.”
Emily stayed on plating, eyes sharp, hands moving with precision.
Julia expedited. Calling out selections by table. Controlling the flow. For a while, it was all work, which helped.
The only hitch came at the dessert course. Emily frowned, glancing at the prep space, and turned full circle. “Where are the torches?”
“For the brûléed tarts?” Julia asked, scanning too.
“Yes. I don’t see them.”
“Do you remember bringing them in?”
Emily shook her head. “Actually, I don’t.”
Julia patted her pockets for keys. When she located her set, she turned and nearly walked into Mateo. He hadn’t made a sound. He was just there.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To the van. We’re missing the torches.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“It’s right outside.”
“That’s fine, but where you go, I go.”
Julia held his gaze for a second then nodded, already heading for the rear exit. She paused long enough to remove her apron. It had food splatters but was still considered clean until it left the kitchen.
She smoothed the front of her shirt, buttoned to her chin to hide the raw skin and discoloration from the other night’s very bad decision, and followed Mateo out the door.
The evening air was warm, but still a welcome break from the heat of the oven and cooktops. Julia unlocked the van and climbed in, reaching into the supply crate.
It took little digging before she pulled out three torches. “Found them.”
Mateo scanned the drive as she locked up. One sweep toward the house. Another toward the outer edge of the lot. Then, to the service door again.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing around too.
“Maybe nothing,” was his vague reply. “But let’s get you inside.”
“Oh, thank heaven,” Emily said when she saw her with the torches. “Unbrûléed tarts are just—”
“Tarts?”
Emily laughed. “Right.” She took them from her and hurried to the line.
Julia slipped on her apron again, tucking the keys into the deep front pocket. Her fingers brushed something else.
She went still, whispering, “No…” as she pulled out a black satin scrunchie.
Mateo was beside her instantly. “What is it?”
Julia held it up, her hand shaking. “I lost this at the party the other night,” she told him. “I know it wasn’t in my apron when I got the keys.”
Mateo’s hand went to his comm. “Control, I’ve got a breach.”
He tensed as he listened.
