by Nancy Adams
He had then confessed that he had been stalking my Facebook page earlier and had noticed that I complained once about eating nothing but hamburgers and rice because that’s all I could cook that didn’t burn seconds later under my watch. So between my confession and my wish, he honestly thought he was doing me a favor. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
“I don’t even like cabbage,” I complained.
“Seriously? I used to eat this stuff in China all the time. Love it. Anyway, the cabbage is for table eight.”
I stopped chopping. “Are you kidding me? I’m not even cooking this for myself?”
He laughed. “I was just joking. I honestly wanted to see your knife skills or lack thereof. That’s why I gave you the cabbage.”
“That’s a relief. I thought you were using me to fill in for a missing crewmember. I figured next I would be washing dishes.”
He swatted me with a dishtowel and said, “Well, the night’s still young.”
I threateningly picked up a pile of shredded cabbage. He waved his hands as if trying to defend himself and said, “Alright, alright. I know better than to argue with such a hot head.”
It was then that a server appeared and spoke to Ash in a language I didn’t understand. He thanked the man and said, “Our table’s ready.”
He extended his hand to mine and I took it. “So we’re actually going to eat something? I’m not chopping veggies all night?” I asked him as we headed into an impressively decorated hall that was separate from the rest of the restaurant.
“Nope. Maybe on our second date.”
“What makes you think you’ll get to a second date?”
“Because I’m that charming and frankly, pretty sexy.”
I didn’t even get a chance to respond before he said, “You look beautiful tonight, but then again, I think you look beautiful when you’re all sweaty and red faced running up and down the soccer field shouting at the refs.” He pulled me closer to him.
In the silence of the hall, I became more aware of the feel of Ash’s body brushing up against mine as he wound his arm around my waist. His touch was protective and comforting, with not a hint of possessiveness. Being with him made me feel safe, protected and special. I couldn’t remember a time when I associated any of those things with any other man I’d dated. But then again, no man had appealed to me as much as Ash did. And if I were honest with myself, Hugo was becoming a distant memory. He was sweet, but he wasn’t Ash. It was as simple as that.
I cleared my throat in an attempt to cut through the tension that suddenly seemed to loom between us. Ash’s presence was chipping away at my defenses, and I found myself wanting to explore something with him, something real for once. I couldn’t deny it, there were sparks in between us and I wasn’t sure how to handle them. It was more than just physical. Everything I knew about Ash appealed to me at a level I couldn’t explain.
I tried to think of an innocuous question I could ask to shift the mood. “Are you the chef and the owner?” I asked curiously.
He shook his head. “I’m just the owner. My brother is co-owner actually. But I’m a trained chef. I went to culinary school, so I help out every now and then if an emergency pops up.”
I nodded in understanding. “And you said you own several restaurants?”
He shrugged. “It’s a pretty good business.”
“How did you start?”
“Washing dishes. It was actually part of my community service for getting into trouble. My father had a friend who was a chef. We thought of him as our uncle, Uncle Donny, we called him. Dad got tired of me getting into trouble, and Uncle Donny volunteered to set me straight.”
I studied him. “I’m not quite so sure he was successful.”
“What? I’m a pretty stand up guy.”
I rolled my eyes and he laughed. I turned away from him, and it was then I felt him stop walking and he pulled me to face him and brought me closer so that our bodies were only inches from touching. He was solid and warm, and although I wanted to snuggle up to him, I didn’t think his place of employment was the right place and time.
Luckily, before things could get heated and even more complicated, he took my hand and led me through a doorway. It was a private event room. It was so beautiful that I felt as if I were underdressed despite my fancy attire, which was what I considered my strapless, red, asymmetrical chiffon dress. I knew I looked good and I knew Ash thought I was gorgeous as well, but this room, so ornate, so perfect, was clearly made to entertain millionaires. If others had been there, I would have felt out of my element. Ash, on the other hand, looked completely comfortable. He didn’t seem off kilter at all as the two waiters pulled out our plush, cream-colored chairs. I assumed that was because he was their employer.
“Thank you, Albert, Claude. I think we’re fine for the rest of the night.”
They walked away and closed the sliding doors behind them.
Ash looked at me, raised a brow and said, “Are you impressed yet?”
I shrugged indifferently and said in a bored voice, “I’m not easily impressed.”
“Really?” he said with a mischievous grin. “Then check this out.” He raised his hands and clapped twice. To my surprise, the lights dimmed.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “That was so corny. Is that one of those clap on, clap off light devices that used to be sold on those infomercials?”
He nodded. “I wanted one since I was a kid, but Mom never let me have one. So when the interior designer was working on my restaurant it was my only requirement.”
“Did she laugh at you and tell you no way?”
“Actually, the designer was a he. And yes, he did. But obviously, I got my way.”
“You seem used to getting your way.”
“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”
“I don’t know. Maybe it is. Makes you spoiled. Being challenged every now and again builds character.”
“What are you trying to say? That my character is lacking?” I could tell he was trying to hide a smile.
“Well I could name a number of ways in which you fall short.”
“Ouch. But I could say the same about you.”
My mouth fell open and he laughed as he filled my glass with champagne and then his own.
“Are you trying to say that I’m not perfect?” I asked, gently picking up my glass and narrowing my eyes at him over the rim of the glass, daring him to say something wrong.
“If you were perfect, I wouldn’t have invited you to dinner. Perfect is boring. I prefer a woman who has as many faults as I do. Or more. Preferably more.”
I loved his sense of humor. “I get it. The more faults your date has the better you can feel about yourself.”
“Exactly.”
“I follow the same principle.” I raised my glass and tilted it towards him. “Cheers to us both being narcissists.”
He laughed as he clinked his glass against mine.
“I like that you can laugh at yourself.”
I shrugged. “I don’t take myself too seriously. Life’s too short for that.”
“I wish I had met you years earlier. I might have learned a lesson or two. Avoided a few mistakes.”
“By mistakes, are we referring to your ex-wife or your dates after her?”
He scratched his chin and pondered my question for a moment before saying, “Both.”
“Why did you get divorced?” I finally asked, more curious than anything. I didn’t intend to use the information to judge him, but I was curious to know what could have happened that had ruined his marriage. From the way he treated Kitty, it was clear that family was important to him. I couldn’t imagine him taking his role as a husband for granted.
He seemed reluctant to speak, and I watched him rub his leg a little as if it were sore. I figured he must have had a sports injury that still bothered him. “I traveled a lot. We grew apart. She wanted more, so she started an emotional affair with one of her coworkers. She said it wasn’t anyt
hing physical, but once her heart wasn’t in the marriage anymore, there wasn’t a point in continuing the relationship.”
“That sounds pretty cut and dry. How’d you find out about the emotional affair?”
“Text messages. She had too much to drink one night and started texting me instead of him. Or should I say sexting me instead of him.”
I winced. “And you believed her when she said it wasn’t physical?”
He shrugged. “More like I wanted to believe her. It hurt less than the alternative.” His voice sounded sad then. Gone was the teasing look in his eyes. His whole body language seemed to change when he discussed his marriage. Maybe prying into his past relationship hadn’t been the best idea.
I cleared my throat, feeling uncomfortable. I couldn’t relate. I avoided relationships. I’d never cheated nor had I been cheated on, as far as I was aware. I just dated casually, ditching one guy for another when things even hinted at becoming serious. Relationships just had never been a priority for me. Until now.
I attempted to change the subject. “You mentioned you traveled to China. What was that like?”
“Amazing. The history, the people, the culture. I enjoyed it all.”
“How long were you there?”
“About three months.”
“Wow. Did you travel around other places while you were there?”
“Yeah. Singapore and Taiwan.”
“That had to have been amazing. Why were you there? On business?”
He nodded. “Something like that. I had an import/export business, so I’ve traveled pretty extensively around the world.”
“So you haven’t always been a chef? Or a restaurant owner? You’ve had a ton of careers, haven’t you? You know rumor has it that you played professional soccer once upon a time. Why’d you give it up? Got tired of all the adoring groupies?”
“Not quite. I’m not sure if you can hear it, but my stomach’s growling. Let’s eat.”
“But we haven’t even ordered—”
The sliding doors opened again, and several waiters appeared. They began to cover the table with too many goodies to name. I just sat there in awe as we were presented with the best seafood selection I’d ever seen. It was a seafood feast; I spotted everything from lobster to caviar.
When the waiters finally left, I looked at Ash and said, “I don’t think I can eat this much.”
He smiled at me. “Don’t worry, I can.”
* * *
Forty minutes later, I sat back and patted my stomach. “I feel like such a pig.”
Ash looked down at his own plate and said, “I ate enough for three of you. What does that make me? A hippo?”
I laughed. He was right. While I had mostly concentrated on the lobster, he had easily devoured most of the other offerings.
I shook my head. “Were you a competitive eater once upon a time?”
“In college, I could scarf down at least five hot dogs in one sitting, but I just assumed that was because I was always hungry.”
“Where’d you go to college?”
“Stanford. My brother went there too. Sort of a family tradition.”
I instantly felt out of my league. “I struggled through my junior college classes,” I confessed.
“Don’t feel bad. I only got into Stanford because my great-grandfather has his name on one of the buildings.”
“His name on the building? Was he someone famous?”
“No.”
“Inventor? Or a scientist maybe?”
“God no, I heard he couldn’t even find his way out of a paper bag.”
“Politician?”
“No to all three.” He then stood up abruptly and said, “The night’s still young and my pastry chef is on vacation. Her replacement is amazing, but I have something else in mind. Care to join me for dessert, Libby?”
I reached out my hand, intrigued by whatever mystery he had planned for me. “Lead the way, Ash.”
He grabbed my hand and I let him continue holding it as he led me out of the restaurant and down the street.
“Do you mind if we take my car?”
I shook my head as he led me to a large pickup truck. I climbed in and settled comfortably next to him in the wide front seat.
“Wherever you’re taking me better be good.”
“You won’t be disappointed.”
A few short minutes later, we pulled up to another restaurant that seemed to be more of a dive than an actual restaurant. It definitely wasn’t a swanky establishment, so I was surprised that Ash had taken us there. It wasn’t until I read the sign that I realized it was actually a pub.
“Is dessert hard liquor? Because I should let you know ahead of time, I’m a lightweight.”
“No way, I’m too classy for that. I reserve hard liquor for my second dates.”
I laughed as I climbed out of the truck. He again took my hand and I found myself liking the feel of his hand holding mine. It felt right, as if it was the most natural thing to do.
He opened the door to the pub, and chatter and lively conversations greeted us as we walked in. There were only a few tables, and they were packed. Men and women alike seemed to be trying to talk over each other. Expertly, Ash led me through the crowd to the bar towards the back of the restaurant.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Ash,” said the bartender as the men shook hands across the bar, smiling widely at each other.
“Does O’Day know you’re here? Is he expecting ya?”
“Nope. I doubt it. Can you get us a couple of sodas, Richie? I’m driving and the lady here is a lightweight.”
“Sure. And what else can I get cha? And what’s a pretty girl like you doing going out with a loser like Ash?” He had a bright smile, and I noticed that his eyes were two different colors. I found them fascinating.
“Trust me. I’ve been asking myself that same question all night,” I responded readily.
Ash and the bartender laughed. “I like her. Not nearly as uptight as your missus. This one here actually even smiles. Did your ex know how to smile? Or did it just pain her to smile?”
“Funny, Cyril. Real funny. And my ex did smile when she was with me. Twice, in fact.”
“Let me guess, the first time was when you tore up the prenuptial agreement your father insisted she sign.”
Ash laughed. “Yep. And the second time was when she heard how much she was getting in the divorce settlement.”
“You sure know how to pick them.” He then hurriedly added, “Aside from present company, of course.”
I smiled graciously, even more curious about Ash’s ex-wife.
“So how you are feeling lately? Any progress?” Cyril asked Ash.
I didn’t know what Cyril was talking about, and I looked at Ash curiously, waiting for him to answer.
Strangely, he ignored Cyril’s cryptic question and addressed me instead.
“So, ready to get down to business?” Ash asked. I looked at him questioningly and he gestured to the chalkboard that graced the wall. I hadn’t noticed it before. It was a list of foods, an extremely long list. And most of the foods on the list were sweets I hadn’t eaten since I was a child.
“Pick anything you want from there and they’ll deep fry it. That’s what this pub is known for.”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Nope. That’s their specialty. That’s why everyone’s so loud and happy here. It’s like carb central. It’s a fat kid’s dream pub. My inner fat kid loves this place.”
I studied the board and tried to make up my mind. There was a deep-fried cinnamon roll that sounded delicious. And deep-fried cupcakes that seemed way too decadent. I finally settled on an old childhood favorite that I hadn’t had in years.
“I’ll take the pumpkin-flavored whoopee pie.”
Cyril smiled. “That’s Ash’s favorite kind.”
Ash nodded. “A woman of taste.”
Cyril excused himself, poked his head through the kitchen door and screaming out our o
rder.
“That’s an interesting way to do business,” I said diplomatically.
Ash laughed. “They’ve been doing things like this since they opened.”
A burly man with a thick beard suddenly came barreling out of the back, looking around. He spotted Ash and marched over to him ominously.
“Ummm, Ash…” I said in warning.
Ash turned and looked at the man who said, “What are you doing showing your ugly face here Jefferson?”
The man narrowed his eyes and Ash slowly stood up. They stared at each and I scooted back expecting them to fight.
And then the man’s face broke out in a wide smile. Ash extended his hand and the other man took it, wrapping Ash in a tight hug in the process.
“And who’s this beautiful lady here with you?” the man said once he let Ash go.
“My date tonight. Libby, this is O’Day, my best friend since fifth grade.” I had been expecting someone Irish with a name like O’Day; instead, the man standing in front of me had long dreadlocks and skin the color of cappuccino. He spoke with a New York accent that I didn’t readily recognize. His shoulders were just as wide and massive as Ash’s.
“Not that you would know that given that he never comes around anymore,” the burly man said before enveloping me in big hug. It was over before I even knew it started and I had to laugh. It was like being hugged by a panda bear or something.
“Now that you’re in town, bring your girl and your niece to Jasmine’s birthday party. She and your niece are roughly the same age.”
“How old is Jasmine now? Five? Six?”
“She’s nine, turning ten.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, growing like a weed and giving me so much attitude. You have to come. There needs to be more testosterone in the room, and I’m not taking no for an answer. Bring her too. Luna would love to meet your new lady friend. It’s next Sunday at noon. Be there or I’ll be pissed.”
And with that, he turned and left.
“I guess we have a date on Sunday.”
“Don’t I even get a say?”
“Nope. Not really.”
“Then the deep-fried whoopee pie better be delicious.”
