He grunted his assent.
A few minutes later, Toby came to the register, and she gave him his change. “Don’t forget about the cheesecake,” she said, wondering in the back of her mind if Eddie was going to be able to finish making it. The cakes themselves were in the fridge, but he hadn’t made the caramel syrup topping yet, and he always did that from scratch.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Toby grinned at her before walking out, and she felt her heart melt a little bit more. She cautioned herself not to get her hopes up, and that was advice she could easily take—there wasn’t anyone here in Aspen Ridge for her. She’d figured that out a long time ago. But she was still here for a reason, right? And she should keep her options open . . .
***
Sloane was startled to see Chef Avery enter the diner that afternoon. “Hello,” she greeted him. “Would you like a booth or a table?”
“Neither, actually,” he said. He pulled off his leather gloves and held them in one hand. “I wondered if you’d be my guest at the restaurant tonight. I’m cooking, of course, but you’d have a good table, and I’d join you throughout the evening as I could. I’d enjoy your company.”
Well, that was entirely odd. “You’re inviting me out for dinner?”
“I am. I realize it’s a bit unconventional, what with me being in the kitchen and all, but this way, I can dazzle you with my skills.” He fluttered his fingers in the air as though performing a magic trick.
“And you’d like to dazzle me?”
He seemed to know what she was thinking. “I realize we got off to an awkward start yesterday, and I’d like to make it up to you. What do you say—tonight at seven? I’ve already arranged your table with the maître d’.”
She wanted to say no. She couldn’t think of anything that would bore her more than to sit alone at a table, being dazzled by food, and visited once in a while by her date . . . a man she really wasn’t sure she wanted to go out with. That superior attitude . . . but that could just be nervousness, being new in town at all. She might as well give him a chance—she’d hate to brush him off and then find out he was a really great guy after all. “Yes, I’d love to.”
“Excellent. I’ll see you then.” He left, and she blinked. What on earth had just happened? Why had she said yes? She’d been abducted by aliens—that was the only answer. She didn’t remember anything about it, but that’s how alien abductions were supposed to go.
Taci, the next waitress on shift, came in and punched her timecard, then tied an apron around her waist. “What are you up to tonight?”
“Well, that’s the thing.” Sloane glanced around to make sure no one could overhear them. “I sort of have a date tonight with a guy I kind of don’t want to have a date with, and then a really hot guy is coming by in an hour for some cheesecake that I’m buying him.”
Taci blinked. “I’m just a wee bit confused here.”
“Me too. Oh, and I’m just going to stick around until he gets here, if that won’t bother you too much.”
“Until who gets here? Free cheesecake guy or resented date guy?”
“Free cheesecake guy. Maybe you know him—his name’s Toby, and he works at Frannie’s.”
Taci shook her head. “Nope. And who’s the other guy?”
Sloane studied a tile on the floor, realizing again how ridiculous this whole thing was. “He might work at Frannie’s too.”
“Oh? And what about Frank—are you meeting up with him for a movie later?”
Sloane picked up a bar towel and snapped Taci with it. “Listen, seriously. There’s something else.” She glanced around again, then lowered her voice. “I don’t think Eddie’s feeling very well. He sat on the kitchen stool for a little while earlier.”
Taci’s eyes grew wide. “But he never sits down in the kitchen.”
“This is why I’m worried.”
“Okay. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Thanks.”
A look at the clock told Sloane that time had not magically fast-forwarded while she was talking to Taci, so she grabbed the bar towel again and started to do some cleaning.
Because Aspen Ridge boasted some of the best ski slopes in Colorado, it wasn’t uncommon for celebrities to come into the diner who had come to town to check out the snow. Eddie had taken pictures of some of their more frequent special guests and hung them on the walls. They made a fun decoration, but they were a beast to dust. Sloane took the time to do them up right, straightening a few that had become crooked on the wall. Then she wiped off the top of the jukebox, the shelf behind the cash register . . . and the stupid clock wouldn’t go any faster no matter what she did.
When Toby finally came in, she greeted him with a warm smile. “Hey there! I’m glad you came back. I was worried that you might forget.” She paused. Wow. That came across as pretty desperate. She could do damage control—it wasn’t too late. “Cheesecake goes fast around here. You don’t want to miss out.” Phew. That wasn’t obvious at all.
He took a seat at the counter and grinned. “I know a good thing when I hear about it.”
“Let me grab it for you. Be right back.”
Sloane let out a deep breath as she entered the kitchen. “I’m a dork, Eddie. A real dork.”
He glanced up from the grill. “What now?”
“Oh, a guy.” She nodded toward the pass-through window. “At the counter, wearing the white shirt.”
“Hmm.” Eddie nodded once, then flipped the burgers he was cooking.
“What do you think?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think. Matters what you think.”
“Yeah, I know, but I care about your opinion.” She grabbed the slice of cheesecake she’d set aside in the fridge and put it on the counter. “Sauce, please.”
Eddie drizzled some of his special caramel sauce all over the top, then put the saucepan back on the stove. He kept it at just slightly warmer than room temperature—warm enough to serve, but not warm enough to make it go hard.
“Thanks, Eddie.” Sloane took another deep breath, smoothed down the front of her apron, and stepped back out into the dining room. This was silly—no one expected a waitress in a diner to look good, but she wanted to look good . . . very much so. She couldn’t explain why. She just liked the way flirting with Toby made her feel.
Wait—flirting? Was that what she was doing? She looked down at the cheesecake in her hand. Just how many customers had gotten a free dessert out of her? Okay, none. She wasn’t a free-dessert-giving kind of person. But did this have to mean anything? Maybe she was just a really nice human being who wanted to share a bit of pre-Thanksgiving cheer with someone who looked a little down.
And maybe she was flirting.
“Here you go,” she said, giving him her best smile. Dang. Now that she was aware of it, it was like seeing herself from an outside perspective, and she was smiling just a little too brightly. Next thing she knew, she’d be giggling and tossing her hair. This was sad. This was very, very sad.
Toby cut into his cheesecake with the side of his fork and took a bite. “Oh, wow,” he said as soon as he swallowed. “Oh, wow. This . . . honestly, I’m not just saying this because you gave it to me, but this is the best cheesecake I’ve ever had. And this sauce? Amazing.”
“Eddie’s really talented,” Sloane said loud enough that Eddie should be able to hear her through the pass-through window.
“I don’t think we serve anything this good at the restaurant, and we’re supposed to have these super-fancy chefs and whatever. Where did Eddie train?”
“Right there in that kitchen,” Sloane replied, motioning over her shoulder with her thumb. “His father started the place and raised Eddie and his brother, Sal, to take over someday. Sal lost interest and moved to Denver, and Eddie’s been in charge ever since. Going on thirty years with him at the helm.”
“No way.” Toby took another bite. “I can’t tell you how impressed I am. I’ve done some cooking myself, and I know it’s not easy.”
“They do use eggs in Asian cooking,” Toby pointed out.
“They do, but I’m not a fan. Can I get you anything to drink?”
“Water, please. I don’t want to interrupt this fantastic flavor.”
Sloane grinned as she got him a glass. She loved watching people enjoy Eddie’s food—it was his purpose in life, his reason for living, and she hoped he’d always feel appreciated for it.
“Do you think . . . no, I shouldn’t ask,” Toby said, waving it off. “Forget I said anything.”
“What?”
“I . . . well, do you think Eddie would let me ask him a few questions? I realize that’s totally inappropriate—a magician should never reveal his secrets—but I’m really curious about his sauce.”
Sloane hesitated. Eddie never talked to anyone about his food. Anyone. His recipes were guarded more closely than . . . she was thinking Fort Knox, but no, it was even worse than that. “I’ll ask,” she said slowly. “If I get thrown out of the kitchen with my hair on fire, I’ll trust you to remember that there’s an extinguisher on the wall over there.”
“So noted, but if I’m putting you in an awkward spot, please forget I said anything.”
“It should be fine. I think.” She turned and walked toward the kitchen, then leaned on the doorjamb. “Hey, Eddie. Um, Toby wanted to ask you a question about your sauce.”
Eddie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.
“I told him that your recipes are secret, and he understands if the answer is no. In fact, he’s being very respectful of your time and space.”
Eddie cleared his throat. “Let him come back. But he can’t touch anything.”
Sloane blinked. “He can come back? Here? In the kitchen?”
Eddie waved his spatula. “You want me to change my mind?”
“No! I mean, of course not. I’ll go get him.”
Sloane turned and motioned toward Toby. “Come here,” she mouthed.
He grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and wiped his hands, then came into the kitchen. “Afternoon, sir. My name’s Toby Sands, and I’m a waiter over at Frannie’s. I’m also somewhat of a hobby cook, and I just wondered how you got your caramel sauce so creamy. If it’s all right that I’m asking.”
Sloane stood there in utter shock as Eddie grabbed a new saucepan and showed Toby, right then and there, how it was done.
Taci entered the kitchen a minute later and stopped in her tracks. “What’s going on?” she whispered.
“I think Eddie’s giving Toby a cooking lesson,” Sloane whispered back.
“But things like that don’t happen here,” Taci replied. “This is very weird. This is very, very weird.”
Sloane decided that there were definitely aliens at work here.
***
“Eddie’s amazing,” Toby said fifteen minutes later as he gathered up his coat and prepared to leave. “I can’t believe all the stuff he showed me. Of course, he said he’d skin me alive if I shared any of those tricks with the cooks at Frannie’s, but I’m free to use them at home.”
“I have to tell you, I’m pretty shocked that he took you into his confidence like that.” Sloane grabbed her coat from the coat tree as well. “I think he likes you.”
“Are you leaving too? Can I walk you to your car?”
“I didn’t bring my car today, but it’s not far.”
Toby glanced at his watch. “I have to get back to the restaurant, but at least let me take you partway.”
Sloane’s heart warmed at that. What a sweet guy. “Thanks. I’d like that.”
The air was rich with the smell of fall leaves, and she took a deep breath. If anyone ever managed to make a candle of that scent, or a perfume, or could figure out how to package up an entire autumn day, she’d be one of the first customers. There was nothing she loved more. And she supposed it was a good backdrop for an uncomfortable discussion—it would keep her from feeling too out of her element.
“I may have done something . . . foolish earlier,” she said as they fell into step together on the sidewalk.
“Oh? What’s that?”
“Well, I met this new guy—he came into the diner and asked directions, and today he came back and asked me out, and I said yes.”
“Why is that foolish? Is he a creeper?”
“I don’t know.” She paused. “He’s the new chef at Frannie’s.”
“Really? No way.” Toby kicked at a pile of leaves on the sidewalk as he walked through it. “He asked you out?”
“Yeah. I thought it was kind of odd, personally. I mean, we just met.”
“I didn’t realize the guy had enough of a heart to date anyone,” Toby replied, but then grimaced. “I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t my place.”
“I don’t know why I said yes. I’ve been regretting it ever since.”
“Hey, if you feel uncomfortable, you could always cancel,” Toby said, reaching out and touching her elbow. “You shouldn’t go out with someone if you don’t trust them.”
Dang, he was cute. And nice. “The thing is, I don’t know if I trust him. I really don’t know him at all. What if I’m judging him without giving him a fair shot?”
Toby turned and looked at her. “Did you watch Barbie movies as a little girl or something? You sound awfully optimistic right now.”
“Maybe I did. A few. But not all of them,” Sloane hedged. “Why? Is there something wrong with wanting to give someone a second chance? And is there something wrong with Barbie movies?”
“I’ll pass on the Barbie question. As far as giving someone a second chance . . . I’m all for it. I just . . . listen. He’s kind of hard to work for, but maybe he’s a nice guy when he’s not in a kitchen. Be careful, all right?” He stopped walking and touched her elbow again. “When is your date?”
“Tonight, actually. He asked me to come down to the restaurant so he can cook for me.”
Toby nodded. “That’s good. You can get to know him a little bit in a public place and then decide from there if you want to keep seeing him.”
Sloane tilted her head to the side, considering him. “You’re kind of freaked out about this, aren’t you? Do you think he’s some kind of predator?”
Toby shook his head. “I don’t think so, and I’m not freaked out, necessarily . . . I’m just concerned. You’re a fair person—you’ll try to see him for all his possibilities, and I know you’ll make the right choice.” He glanced at his watch again. “I’m sorry, but I need to take off or I’ll be late back to work. What time are you coming in?”
“Seven.”
“Great. I’ll keep my eyes out for you.” He took off down the sidewalk at a brisk pace, and Sloane watched him go. It was nice of him to warn her about Chef Avery, but she didn’t know what to think. She’d give this date a chance, but beyond that . . . well, she couldn’t see into the future.
Toby, on the other hand . . . she found Toby very attractive. She grinned as she headed inside. She was a little chilled from the walk home. She’d take a hot shower and get ready for her date, and then see what happened from there. She was ready for some new adventures in her life.
Chapter Three
Toby flinched when he heard the commotion coming from the kitchen. Chef Avery was apparently upset with one of the servers—again—and everyone in the dining room could tell. Toby flashed a bright smile at his customers. “As I was saying just now, our flounder has been delicately prepared—”
“And don’t ever come back in my kitchen!”
The swinging door flung open, and Jen, their newest waitress, came running through, tears streaming down her cheeks. Toby schooled his face not to show his emotions. He had no idea why it wasn’t Chef Avery running for the hills right now—he’d offended every member of the staff and even told Fra
nnie she had no idea how to run a restaurant, and it was only his second day.
“I actually think we’ll head up to the resort for dinner,” said the man at Toby’s table, and the woman nodded her agreement. The man slipped Toby a folded twenty-dollar bill, murmured an apology, and they left.
Toby closed his eyes and shook his head. Chef Avery was an awesome cook—everyone who had tried his food so far raved about it, but the guy thought he was living a real episode of Hell’s Kitchen or something, and he was the star.
Frank stood by the front door, impeccable as always in his sharp suit. Toby stepped over that direction to explain why the couple had just left, keeping his voice soft so he wouldn’t be overheard by the other customers. Frank just nodded, and Toby grabbed a pitcher to refill water glasses.
This wasn’t how Frannie’s was supposed to feel, this atmosphere of tension. Frannie’s was upscale, but even at that, it was still comfortable, homey. Frank and Frannie had built the place up from a mom-and-pop establishment into what it was now—or rather, what it had been the day before yesterday. Chef Avery just didn’t get it.
Toby cleared the table, even though nothing had really been touched, and reset it for the next diners. He hoped things would calm down before Sloane got there . . . or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wanted her to see how Chef Avery could be so she wouldn’t get involved with him, but it was really none of his business. He barely knew her. Maybe she liked the pompous, overbearing type . . . he really hoped not.
***
Sloane walked into Frannie’s and gave her coat to Frank, who greeted her cordially and escorted her to a table in an alcove by the window. She had the warmth of the fireplace at her back, but it wasn’t too warm, and a candle flickered in the center of the table. Couples were seated all around the room, many of them gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes, and that didn’t make her feel out of place at all—a girl sitting by herself waiting for her date to come out of the kitchen so she could decide if she could stand being around him.
Toby approached the table, a little smile on his face. “Good evening. My name is Toby, and I’ll be your waiter this evening. Our chef has prepared a special meal for you, and I’ve been asked to offer you your choice of beverage to start out the night.”
Sugar And Spice (Main Street Merchants Book 7) Page 2
