Just inside the entrance a young woman moved from behind an oak podium. “How many in your party?” she asked with a smile.
Rose held up two fingers. She didn't trust herself to speak. She could hardly breathe.
“Would you like a booth or a table? We have plenty of both,” she said her smile widening to a grin.
Since the booths were farthest from the kitchen, Rose pointed at them.
As she seated them, the waitress gave them each a menu. “I’ll be back in a minute with some water and to take your order.”
The atmosphere was so muggy and thick Rose lost her appetite. She stared at the menu, trying to find something appealing. Everything was deep fried except the salad. They even had batter-fried veggies and deep-fried ice cream for dessert. She glanced at Adam and saw he was having the same reaction.
"Gosh, it's hard to decide. So much grease, so little time,” she said in mock seriousness.
“Maybe it tastes better than it smells.”
“One can only hope.” Rose took a breath and found she was getting used to the odor, at least enough to breathe. Curious. Maybe a person could get used to any smell if they were around it long enough.
After studying the menu for several minutes, Adam decided on the house special—steak, rare, and peach pie for dessert. By process of elimination, Rose decided on a chef salad and the fried ice cream. It was hard to screw up a salad, and she had never heard of fried ice cream.
“Might as well give it a try,” Rose said.
“And bring us each a beer, please,” Adam said. When the waitress moved away, he returned his gaze to Rose. “We might need it.”
He’d thought beer couldn’t be screwed up, except when it came, it was warm and flat. Adam forced down a few swallows of his, but Rose pushed hers to the side. Thank goodness the waitress had delivered their glasses of water.
As they waited for their meals, they surveyed the interior. “It’s dark and gloomy in here, which is probably good. The customers, what there are of them, can’t see the dirt,” Rose said.
Rose was in the process of wiping the tabletop with her napkin when the food finally arrived. Adam's steak was cooked to the consistency of an old saddle, hardly the rare meat he’d ordered. The side dishes consisted of a dab of overcooked green beans and a few cold French fries.
The lettuce used to make Rose’s chef salad was brown around the edges, with bits of crumbled egg, and a few dried up pieces of ham. The contents of the bowl screamed food poisoning.
When the waitress noticed they hadn’t eaten much of their food, she apologized. “Can I bring you something else?” Apparently, this was a common occurrence.
“Can you recommend something better?” Adam asked.
“Not really,” she said as she cleared away their dishes. “Don’t tell the chef I said this, but the only thing worth eating is the fried ice cream.”
She was right. The cuisine didn’t improve with dessert. The peach pie was out-of-a-box, undercooked and slimy. The one bright moment of the meal was the fried ice cream. It was a delight. Light, flaky crust, hot from the fryer, coated the outside. Inside, the ice cream was still frozen, and to top it off, dark chocolate syrup flowed over the pastry.
Rose dipped her spoon into the concoction, and lifted it to her mouth. “Mmfff,” she groaned. “You’ve got to try this.” She savored another bite as Adam reached across the table with his fork.
“God must have made this, because it’s too good to be made by a mere mortal,” Rose said as she finished her second spoonful.
Adam stretched his arm to snag another sample.
“Hey, I said a bite, not the whole thing.” She reached across and tapped his fork with her spoon.
“I save you from aliens, doctor you when you’re hurt and take you out to dinner, and you won’t even share your dessert with me?” His fork sank into the ice cream, and he had the bite in his mouth before Rose could react. “Too bad the rest of the meal didn't live up to this.”
Rose pushed the bowl to the center of the table, scooped up a bite and held it out to Adam. “Okay, you can have one more.”
While the morsel melted in his mouth, she dipped her spoon back into the ice cream. Then with her gaze locked on his, she used the tip of her tongue to lick it off a bit at a time.
His eyes darkened and his breathing quickened and his hands folded into fists, but his gaze stayed on the spoon.
A shiver plunged down her spine when she saw how her actions affected him. Her mouth curled into a smile as she heard his sharp intake of breath.
Rose took her time with the second spoonful. When the melting ice cream dripped on to the table, she scooped some up with her fingertip. She popped it into her mouth then drew it out slowly.
He groaned as he raised his gaze from her mouth to her eyes.
“Like that?” she asked as she immersed the spoon in the bowl, a smug smile on her face.
Before she could take another bite, Adam stood, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Time to go.”
“But I’m not done.” She stepped closer, raising up onto her tiptoes and whispering in his ear. “Wouldn’t want to waste good food.”
“I’ll buy you all the ice cream you want—tomorrow.” After one quick look around, Adam threw some bills on the table then tucked Rose’s hand under his arm and hurried her out the door.
“Slow down,” Rose said as Adam pulled her down the sidewalk. “I have short legs, you know.”
“It’s your fault I’m in a hurry,” he said, stopping momentarily to look down at her.
It was only a few blocks back to the car, but the night had turned chilly, and Rose shivered beside him.
“Come here.” Adam put his arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. “I’ll help you warm up.”
As his heat surrounded her, chasing away the chill, she put her arm around his waist and snuggled even closer, sighing with pleasure.
“Better?”
“Much.”
“Come on then,” he said, keeping her close as he hurried them to the car. Before opening the door, Adam turned her to face him. “Business first. Think we can do anything with the restaurant?”
“Like gutting it?” Leaning against the car, she held his gaze then licked her upper lip with the tip of her tongue, just to see if it would work again. She was thrilled to discover it did.
He braced his arms on either side of her and leaned in. “Okay, enough business talk.” His lips touched hers, and the soft kiss flamed into a bon fire.
Rose grabbed his collar and pulled him closer. Without conscious effort, she wrapped one leg around his. His kiss scorched her blood and scrambled her brain. If she didn’t slow things down, she’d screw him right here on the street, and that would be a little too naughty for her to pull off. Looking behind her, she eyed Miss Cool. Before she could stop it, a laugh bubbled out of her.
“Well, that makes me feel good. I kiss you, and you laugh.” Adam sounded hurt, but his smile gave him away
“Sorry. I was imagining sex in Miss Cool.” Rose touched his cheek then ran her finger down his throat.
“Imagining sex is a good thing, but in Miss Cool, it would take a contortionist,” Adam said, his hands tightening around her waist, his fingers caressing her spine. “It pains me to say this, but maybe we’d better put this off until we get home.”
She wrapped her arms around his ribcage and laid her head against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat thumped through her body. “Can I ask you a favor?”
He leaned back until he could look at her face. “Is it something I’ll like?”
“I need something to eat before I go to work. I loved the ice cream, but the sugar high is going to wear off long before two a.m."
“Come on, honey. I do like to feed my girl.”
Adam held her door open, helped her in then hurried around to the driver’s side. Miss Cool started with a soft roar as she always did for him, and it only took a few moments to find a burger place.
"That's an understatement of the greatest magnitude,” she said as she dipped a fry in the sauce and popped it into her mouth. “We’re going to change everything, and make it into a steakhouse. I’m not sure what it is now.”
-#-
Adam called the restaurant and made an appointment to meet with the chef and wait staff at one o’clock the next afternoon. They arrived a few minutes early to give Adam time to look over the outside of the building.
“Hey, the nasty grease smell is gone. You don’t suppose they cleaned the kitchen because we’re here to inspect it, do you?” he asked.
“They didn’t clean anything. The wind is blowing from the other direction.” Rose grabbed his sleeve and headed around the side of the building. “When we get to the other side, I’ll bet the Steakhouse aroma is alive and kicking.” She was right.
As they rounded the corner of the building, the smell of tainted french fries and overcooked steak was as strong as the night before.
“Fries have always been one of my favorite foods,” Rose said. “But if I decide to lose weight, coming here will be great aversion therapy.
As they headed back to the entrance, Adam took Rose’s hand. “If you lost any weight, you’d disappear.”
“Are you saying I’m skinny?” She turned this way and that trying to see her butt.
“I’m saying you’re hot for a tiny, little thing.”
“Nice save,” she said as he pulled the door open, and they stepped inside. The same employee who’d seated them the night before greeted them today.
"Good afternoon,” she said without looking up as she bent over an open book on the podium. When they were in front of her, she glanced up and smiled. "Oh, it’s you. I remember from last night.” She hesitated then said, “I’m surprised you came back.”
“I kind of had to,” Adam said. “I own this place.”
“Oh, my. Well, welcome Mr., uh?”
“Cameron, Adam Cameron and this is Rose Wajnowski.”
The girl extended her hand to Adam. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Cameron. I'm Mara, please come in."
Her greeting to Rose was warm and welcoming. She had the role of perfect hostess down to an art. Her petite stature belied a voice worthy of a champion hog-caller when she turned toward the kitchen and yelled at the top of her lungs. "Roy, the new owner is here."
Rose looked at Adam, a slight frown on her face. “We’ll have to work on that.”
Mara led them to a large table in the center of the room. "I thought we'd have the meeting here, if that's okay with you. I'll go get coffee, and round up the crew.” As she turned, her voice gained volume. “Roy, we’re waiting."
Adam pulled out a chair for Rose then surveyed the gloomy room. One by one the waiters and waitresses found seats at the table. Adam counted five, three women and two young men. If he included Mara and Roy, seven people ran this large restaurant. He didn’t know much about the food service industry, but this seemed like a small staff. Then again, serve terrible food and you won’t have many customers.
Mara placed a large carafe and a tray of cups in the center of the table then served Adam and Rose. “Everyone else help yourselves.”
The first thing Adam noticed besides the cook’s size, was his greasy apron. The man lumbered across the room and flopped down in a chair, wiping his hands on a food-stained rag.
Adam looked at the group of people gathered around the table and wondered for the hundredth time how he’d gotten into this mess. There was no way out now, so he might as well forge ahead. "Thank you all for coming in today. I guess I might as well get right to the point. This restaurant isn't making any money. We need to change so we can make a profit, and we need to do it now. Who runs this place?"
The portly man heaved to his feet then leaned forward, his hands on the table. "And who wants to know?”
Adam stared at the man for a moment then asked, “What’s your name?”
“I'm Roy Stieger. Mr. Howell hired me to manage the restaurant.” He puffed up and pushed his belly out even farther than its normal position. “I've cooked in every truck stop in Colorado and New Mexico."
"Nice to meet you, Roy. I’m the new owner of this restaurant, and I use the term restaurant loosely.” Adam placed his hands on the table, mimicked the cook’s stance and stared at the man until he sat down. “Now here’s the deal. The menu is the first thing that’s going to change. We need less fried food, more grilled and fresh. In fact, the only thing that’s going to stay is the ice cream."
Roy stood again and shook his head. "Nope, not gonna happen. I've cooked this way for twenty years and never had any complaints. Truckers love my food."
“This isn't a truck stop,” Adam said, trying to keep a lid on his temper. “This place is going to become a top of the line steak and seafood restaurant. We’re changing, and you can change with us or leave.”
Roy gave a snort, followed by a hacking cough. He pulled off his greasy apron and threw it along with the rag on the floor. “You're making a big mistake. People love my food,” he said then moved with all the grace of a rhinoceros out the door, slamming it with a force that shook the chandelier.
"That went well,” Rose said. “Now we’re short a cook.” A slow grin spread across her face followed by a giggle. “Well, we were short one before. Anybody here handy in the kitchen?" She looked at the assembled crew, still trying to control her laughter.
Mara slowly raised her hand and gave a little finger wave. Her curly red hair and freckles made her look like Little Orphan Annie, the teenage years. She had to be at least twenty-one to work where liquor was sold, but Rose was sure she was carded everywhere she went.
"The fried ice cream is mine,” she said. “Gramma’s made it for us since we were kids. Roy only allowed it on the menu because he needed another dessert, and it was fried."
"Can you make anything else?” Rose asked.
"A few things, but you really need to talk to Gramma. She can cook anything."
Adam cleared his throat to get everyone's attention. "We're going to close for one week. We’ll need to clean this place from top to bottom and come up with a new menu. If any of you aren't on board with this, tell me now."
A waitress stood and faced Adam. “I’m sorry but I can’t wait around to see if you go broke,” she said. “I’ve got bills to pay.” When Adam nodded to her, she picked up her purse and jacket and followed in the cook’s footsteps, but without the stomping and without the slamming.
"Anybody else want out?" Adam said as he scanned the faces surrounding the table. Another of the waitresses stood and followed the first out.
The remaining employees looked at one another and shook their heads.
"Let's get started. Mara, you take half the crew into the kitchen and see how much of that grease and grime you can scrape off. The rest of you sweep and clean in here. Oh, and Mara, could you arrange for me to meet with your Gramma? The sooner, the better. I think we’re going to need her if she's willing to help."
Rose and Adam worked alongside the crew until early evening then sent the employees home with instructions to continue the work tomorrow.
After the short drive across town, they walked up the steps and entered Rose’s house. “Just let me change my clothes, and I’ll be ready to leave for work.” She hurried down the hallway.
Adam was worried. He wandered through to living room, stopping to stare at the page taped above the electric fireplace. A brindle cowhide covered the floor in front of a river rock fireplace. Overstuffed leather furniture blended comfortably with an elk horn lamp and light fixture. Rose had good taste. When they got the inheritance, she could decorate to her heart’s content, make her dreams come true. At least she had dreams. His had died years ago. No dreams and lots of problems. His life, the Readers Digest version.
He was at a dead end and wasn�
��t sure which way to turn. He’d already spent his meager savings, and he’d run through every possible situation he could imagine and still hadn’t come up with a solution. Hopefully Rose could think of something.
“I think we’ve got a problem with the restaurant,” Adam told Rose as they drove to the radio station. “We can't go any farther without money. If we get the kitchen clean, the updates can wait. But new carpet and paint in the dining area are a must before we can reopen.”
“I have a couple of hundred dollars in savings,” Rose said.
“I’m not taking your money,” he said. “I didn’t want to do this, but I’m going to have to see what’s in the safe-deposit box the old man left me.”
He lapsed into silence. It was too much to expect money, but maybe there was something in there they could hock or sell.
“Didn’t you say he left you all his clothes? They must be worth something.”
“He wouldn’t be seen in anything but custom made suits. Maybe you’re right,” Adam said. “I’ll call Lillian when we get to the station.”
When Rose had started her show, he sat at the desk and dialed Lillian. The phone rang twice before she picked up. Adam didn’t waste any time with small talk. “Would you please box up Grandfather’s suits and coats and have them delivered to the house?”
“His suits? Of course. If you don’t mind my asking, what are you going to do with them?”
“Actually, send all of his clothes that have any value. I’m putting them on E-bay and in some local consignment shops.”
“I’ll bring them over myself within the hour, but are you sure you want to sell anything yet? They are your grandfathers.”
“Just send them in the morning. If I can make a few bucks off the rags, I’ll be happy.”
“They’re custom made suits from Savile Row,” she said. “They are worth nearly five thousand dollars new. Each.”
“That much for a suit?” Adam was astounded.
“Yes. Why don’t you come over tomorrow? I’ll find out what they’re worth now. We can have a nice lunch on the veranda and figure out the best way to dispose of the clothes.” Her voice grated on his nerves, too sweet, too devious. “What would you like to eat?”
Radio Rose (Change of Heart Cowboys Book 1) Page 13
