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“You need to leave.”

I rolled my eyes. If nothing else, he was bloody predictable. “Give me a minute. My arms are sore. I can barely move them at the minute, never mind get dressed.”

There was no response. I eased my legs over the side of the bed, gently rubbing at the sore skin on my wrists. Those were the moments I needed to remember more, if I was ever going to break free of the strange compulsion to keep coming here. The moments where he couldn’t wait to get rid of me. It was another minute before I felt able to move across the room and collect my clothes. There wasn’t another word spoken by either of us.

Chapter Eight

For a Thursday night, the restaurant was unusually busy: something to do with a one-off event nearby, meaning we’d had a sudden influx of out-of-towners. I hadn’t really been listening properly when someone had mentioned it earlier. Luckily, it wasn’t so packed that it wasn’t possible to take a breather. That’s what I was doing right then, leaning against the bar while I watched Kate wend her way expertly between the tables, carrying more dishes at one time than anyone should be capable of. No wonder she always made the best tips. It didn’t hurt that she had the best smile out of all the waitresses either.

A snippet of conversation between the bartender and one of the newer waitresses, Susie, caught my attention: something about one of the customers being both Beauty and the Beast rolled into one. Understandably confused, I turned to give them both a questioning look. Susie’s response was to point over to the other side of the restaurant, to where the majority of Kate’s tables were.

There were two men seated at the table. I let my eyes drift over the first. Nice-looking guy. Nothing remarkable. Nothing that would explain the gossip I’d just overheard. I moved on to his dinner companion, my breath immediately catching in my throat. Even in profile, it was hard to ignore the fact he was quite simply gorgeous. I let my gaze run over his face, noting that his dark hair had the slightest bit of curl to it, and he had cheekbones to die for.

He was too far away for me to have a chance at discerning his eye color. But I suddenly wanted to know it, more than anything else in the world. Unable to tear my eyes away, I spoke to Susie without looking at her. “Beauty…yes, but I don’t see where…” The man suddenly turned his head, and I understood—all too well. Where the right side of his face was classically beautiful, the left side was a mass of scar tissue. It stretched all the way from his forehead, down over the side of his face, to disappear into the collar of his shirt. The contrast between the two sides was…well, there was no other word for it…shocking. Not in a bad way, just in a way where you couldn’t help but stare. And stare I did. For way too long. I was still staring when I realized the man was staring right back at me. Embarrassed, I quickly looked away, almost running into the kitchen in my haste to be anywhere but in the dining room.

I was still in hiding when a panicked-looking Kate found me. “Dean, I don’t know what to do.”

I hustled her away into a quiet corner, away from the head chef’s scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

“The sitter just called. My daughter’s throwing up…not just like once…a few times. She doesn’t know whether to take her to the hospital…or call a doctor. I should be there, not here. What if she’s really ill? What if she’s been poisoned or something…or…I asked if she’s got a temperature, but she’s not sure. The sitter’s only nineteen. I don’t know what to do, Dean.”

I grabbed her hands to stop her from literally wringing them. “Shhh, listen. This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to go straight home so you can look after your daughter. I’ll explain to Graham that it was an emergency. And if he doesn’t buy that, I’ll make some stuff up, you know embellish it a bit more. Just make sure you call me before you next see him, so we can get our stories straight.”

The look of relief on her face was immediate. “I will. Don’t worry.”

A shout of table thirty-four echoed from the busy kitchen’s pass. Kate stopped dead. “Shit! That’s one of mine. I need to—”

I gave her a gentle push in the opposite direction. “Go! I’ve got it. Don’t worry. I was getting bored with all this standing around anyway. Plus, I get extra tips. It’s win-win for me.” I grabbed the plate, backing through the doors of the kitchen before she could even think to protest.

It wasn’t until I was halfway across the restaurant floor that it suddenly dawned on me exactly which table, table thirty-four was. I slowed down, trying to buy myself a bit more time before having to face the man I’d recently stared so rudely at. Deciding the only option was to front it out, I approached the table with a friendly smile. He looked up and I noted that the mystery eye color was green. The seat opposite him was empty. I assumed his dinner companion had paid a visit to the bathroom.

I held the smile a touch longer than I needed to, before launching into my spiel. “Hi. My name’s Dean. I’m afraid your waitress has been unavoidably called away. Don’t worry though, I’ll be taking over, so just let me know if anything’s not up to standard, or if there’s anything else you need.”

The man froze. He didn’t speak. Just stared. I shifted uncomfortably while his gaze ran all over me, like he was searching for something. I knew I’d been rude earlier, but this seemed like a slight overreaction. If his intention was to make me feel as awkward as I’d made him, he was succeeding admirably.

I decided to soldier on regardless. Stepping forward, I deposited the plate of food in front of him. “There’s only one plate here. I’ll go and find out what’s happened to your…” I gestured over to the empty seat, unsure of the correct label to use. It had looked like a date: that slight awkwardness where two people who didn’t know each other that well sat together. But, if that was my reasoning, it could just have easily been a business meeting. “…friend’s dinner.”

I attempted another smile. It died on my face. The man was still staring. Maybe he was trying to make a point, let me know how it felt to be stared at. Finally, he seemed to give himself a mental shake. “What did you say your name was?”

“Dean.”

He repeated the name, as if testing the sound of it on his tongue.

I glanced around the restaurant. “So, I’ll go and find out where your friend’s meal is.”

“I canceled it. He’s gone.”

“Sorry?”

“My…date…he left.”

My first instinct had been right then. It was a date. Good to know my gaydar was still in relatively good working order. “Oh! That’s unfortunate. Was it an emergency?” There were obviously a lot of them around recently.

He laughed. It pulled his face into a crooked smile, the scar tissue not reacting in the same way as the unblemished side of his face. “Not exactly.”

I waited.

He sighed. “Dating’s difficult. You know, when—” He waved a hand at the scarred side of his face as if that explained everything. “If I use a current picture, I don’t get a date in the first place. If I use an old picture…a picture from before…then I get the date, but they usually come up with some sort of excuse to leave. So, yes, apparently, it was an emergency.” He shrugged, the gesture one of defeat. “Maybe it was genuine…but I wouldn’t bet my house on it. He didn’t leave his number, so I guess I won’t be seeing him again.” He looked down at his plate. “But, I’m hungry. I figured I’m here now, I may as well stay and eat. It seems stupid to go home and cook.” He picked up his knife and fork. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m boring you with all the gory details. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do.”