by Anna Paige
FRIDAY NIGHTS AT Canary were usually hectic, but that Friday night was worse than usual. My chef, Neil, was running around like his hair was on fire because half of his help called in sick at the last minute. The kitchen was so slammed with orders that I donned an apron and played sous chef to keep poor Neil from having a coronary. He was mid-forties, easily agitated, and talented as hell. He and I created the entire menu ourselves, a mixture of my family’s recipes and his.
It was a perfect combination.
And the number of waiting customers was a testament to that.
Gina burst into the kitchen, arms laden with empty plates as she swore loudly and cornered one of the bus boys. He stood there in silent horror as she read him the riot act, reminding him that he was to make a sweep of the dining room every few minutes and reset tables. Poor kid.
When he was properly chastised, she dismissed him and turned to me, still glowering. “That is the third time he’s dropped the ball tonight. Once more and I’m cramming him in the steamer, I swear to God.” She grabbed a towel and used it to brush crumbs from her shirt. “By the way, there’s a guy at the bar asking for you.”
Spencer. I glanced at the clock and cringed. He was early and I looked like hell. “Do me a favor and make him a drink. Tell him I’ll be out in a few, okay?”
She smirked and blew wayward strands of her strawberry blonde hair out of her face. “Take your time. He’s just the decoration I need to perk things up at the bar.” She winked and breezed out.
Neil turned to me with a steaming plate in hand, idly sprinkling chopped basil onto it as he said, “Go. Things are starting to slow down back here and the girl you called in to help should be here in fifteen.”
I finished up garnishing the orders in front of me and whipped off my apron, making my way to the staff restroom. “Thanks, Neil. Let me know if you need me to come back. I don’t mind.”
“Mind? Pfft, you thrive on this shit,” he teased. “Lucky for you, you’re the epitome of grace under pressure or I’d have booted you out of my kitchen ages ago.”
“Whose kitchen?” I narrowed my gaze, not bothering to conceal my grin. He was always full of piss and vinegar. It was almost endearing.
“Sorry, boss. Your kitchen. I’m lucky to even be allowed to look upon such resplendence, much less work in it.” He was pouring it on thick.
“Smartass,” I called just before stepping from the hallway into the restroom to fix my hair.
So glad I was respected by the staff.
ONCE I NO longer looked like I’d been standing over a steam table—which I had—I made my way to the bar, smoothing my blouse and checking my skirt to be sure the damn thing wasn’t tucked into my underwear or anything.
Why was I so nervous?
The dining room was packed with people happily chatting and enjoying their meals. The noise was a low hum that I couldn’t get enough of. I loved my restaurant. Absolutely loved it.
I neared the bar and Gina walked by, snagging me by the arm and turning us in the other direction. “I had to move him to a table. A group of ten just sat down at the bar and he was caught between two guys arguing over football. Figured he needed saving. I made him a drink—the good shit—and put him at the back booth as soon as it opened up.”
I saw the booth in the distance but the back was too high for me to catch a glimpse of him just yet. I sagged a bit, disappointed because Gina obviously wanted to chat and I just wanted to see Spencer.
“Thanks, Gina.”
I tried to move away but she tightened her grip. “I know you’re not into dating, but he’s really cute. If you don’t want him, toss him to me, okay? He looks like he’d be a lot of fun.”
I turned and gave her a bored look. “Don’t you need to check your tables or something?”
She rolled her eyes, undaunted. “Fine. Be tight-lipped. Party pooper.” She skipped off, back to her perky, exuberant self.
I squared my shoulders, glanced briefly in the nearest reflective surface to make sure I looked okay, and marched to the back corner, rounding the high-backed booth with a huge smile on my face.
Way to play it cool, Talia.
The grin froze in place when I saw who was sitting at the booth.
Shit, shit, shit.
Derek.
I STOOD THERE in stunned silence for a minute, just gaping at him. His deep auburn hair was styled to perfection, gray eyes full of mischief, as if he’d known he’d catch me off guard. Why had I thought he’d back off? He’d always been a very assertive person, determined and single-minded. He rarely gave up on anything.
He gave up on me, though, didn’t he? All those years ago he looked into my eyes, crying and pleading for his understanding and he just walked away. I’d stood there gaping then, too.
He rose from his seat and reached for my hand. I didn’t offer it. The disappointment was clear on his face. “Hey, there. I was starting to worry about you. I stopped by the other day and they said you’d taken some time off. Were you sick?” He looked so concerned, so interested in my well-being.
Where had that concern been ten years ago?
I gestured for him to take a seat and moved into the booth across from him. His long legs stretched out under the table and I quickly tucked my feet against the booth, not wanting him to ‘accidentally’ touch me. “I had things to attend to. Are you here to work on the article? Because the Friday rush really isn’t the best time.”
Good job. Disinterested tone, keeping the conversation geared toward business, I’m fine. I can do this.
He quirked a brow, a familiar expression that revealed the small scar in his left eyebrow, leftover from his football days. I used to think it was so sexy, now it made me look away. I didn’t want to remember that scar or all the times I had traced it with my fingertips. That girl was gone, broken forever by the boy he’d been back then.
“Relax, Natty. I’m not working tonight. I just thought I’d stop by to check on you. I thought maybe you were sick or something. I asked, but no one would tell me anything. The hostess, the bartender, no one. The manager wasn’t here when I stopped by, maybe she would have told me something. She seems nice.” He smiled charmingly.
The entire staff was getting a bonus. He was hard to refuse, I could attest to that, so they had done a great job.
I frowned at him. “Stop calling me Natty, you know I hate that. I really don’t have time to socialize tonight, Derek. We’re understaffed and overwhelmed.”
I placed my palms on the cool table top and started to stand, but he reached out and gripped my wrist.
“You’re really going to leave before I have a chance to say what I came here to say?” He sounded irritated; a chink in his charismatic armor.
My stomach clenched at the contact, and not in the pleasant way it did when Spencer had done it.
As if my thoughts conjured him, Spencer was suddenly there. He stepped to the edge of the table and took my free hand, looking pointedly at Derek’s grip on my other wrist. “Sorry I’m late, sweetheart. It took forever to find a parking spot.”
Derek snatched his hand back and glared between Spencer and I. For his part, Spencer seemed unconcerned with Derek, now that he’d let go of me.
Spencer helped me from the booth and pulled me into his arms hard enough that I practically slammed into his chest. Before I could react, his mouth was on mine, hungrily kissing me until my head swam.
Derek cleared his throat and Spencer put a hand on my ass, giving it a quick squeeze before letting it go and breaking our kiss. He kept his eyes on me, full of lust and tenderness... and jealousy. “Am I forgiven?” He searched my face, waiting for me to either approve or veto his actions.
“Of course, baby,” I cooed, tugging lightly on his beard.
Derek cleared his throat again, loudly.
Spencer turned to him like he’d been completely unaware of his existence. “Hey man, I’m Spencer... Talia’s boyfriend.” He extended a hand while I fought to keep my jaw off the floor. �
�And you are?”
Boyfriend?
Derek gawked at me, I gawked at Spencer, and Spencer was eating this shit up. He’d gotten us both with one very loaded word.
Boyfriend?
Luckily, I recovered first. I leaned into Spencer’s side, an arm around his slim waist and smiled at Derek innocently.
He grudgingly shook Spencer’s hand, looking annoyed. “Um... I’m Derek Wheeler. I grew up with Talia. She didn’t mention a boyfriend.” He eyed Spencer warily.
“I would have, but I thought it was inappropriate to discuss personal matters. Despite our familiarity, our affiliation now is just business and professionalism is important to me. I’m sure you’re of the same mind, right?”
Not bad. No stutters, no hiccups, and I managed not to swallow my tongue. That was no small feat given that Spencer had just announced to the world that he was my boyfriend and kissed the hell out of me in plain view of half my staff.
I briefly wondered if his no drinking rule applied if he was with me at the time.
Derek’s steely gray eyes bored into Spencer and all Spencer did was pull me closer to his side and grip my hip possessively, smirking in challenge.
“Sorry if I interrupted your business meeting,” Spencer said happily, emphasizing the word business.
I shook my head. “Not at all. I was just telling Derek that Friday’s aren’t a good time to talk about the article.” I turned to my ex and nearly laughed at his sour expression. “Maybe we can try for early afternoon on Monday?” I asked.
Derek drained his drink and stepped from the booth, forcing us to step back out of the way. Spencer held me against him and we moved together as a unit.
“That’s fine. I’ll leave you to take care of the overcrowded dining room.” He shot a hostile look at Spencer before returning his gaze to me. “It will take more than one afternoon, though. We’ll need to work closely for several days if we want to iron everything out.”
I knew damn well he wasn’t referring to the magazine article.
Spencer knew it too because he said, “Why not work on it all next week and get it knocked out? That way there won’t be any need to intrude on the weekends, when she’s always kept very busy.” His tone left no question as to what I’d be busy doing.
“Good idea.” Derek reached over and swept a few loose hairs away from my face and tucked them behind my ear, causing me to flinch and lean away from his touch. What the hell was he doing? Not sparing a glance at my boyfriend, he said, “Sounds like I’ll be seeing a lot of you then, Natty. I look forward to it.”
Spencer’s fingers dug into the flesh at my hip and I prayed he didn’t clock Derek right there.
He managed to keep his hands off him but did step forward, getting right in his face as he spoke in a low growl. “You should know right now that I’m a man who doesn’t share. Understand? I sure hope so, because any part of you that touches what’s mine will be ripped from your body and crammed up your arrogant ass. Make no mistake, I know exactly who you are. And I don’t give a fuck... touch her again and I’ll end you.”
The two of them glared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Jaws clenched, hands fisted, posture like two tigers preparing to pounce.
Not good. At. All.
Thankfully, at that precise moment Gina decided to make one of her grand entrances. She came skipping around the corner, a basket of garlic bread in her hand as she tried to step around us. She gave up and smiled at the two men on the cusp of a fist fight as if unaware of the tension crackling through the room. “Sorry, fellas. Not that I’m normally one to complain about having to squeeze between two gorgeous men—it’s always been a fantasy of mine, actually—but table seventeen is bitching about needing more bread and I don’t want to screw up my tip. The old broad with the carbohydrate addiction is wearing a Cartier watch. You know what that means.” She nudged Derek and winked, making a cha-ching sound.
They both turned to give her an incredulous look before Spencer cracked up and Derek stormed off.
She gets a double bonus.
Once Derek was gone and Gina had tended her table, she returned to where we stood, smirking as she extended her hand.
“I’m Gina. This place would crumble without me.”
Spencer took her hand, smiling fondly. She did make a great first impression. “I’m Spencer. Nice to meet you, Gina.”
She smiled. “Of course it is. I just saved you an assault charge.” She looked at me smugly. “By the way, if that kiss was half as good as it looked, I officially fucking hate you.”
Spencer chuckled and claimed Derek’s vacated seat, gesturing for me to follow.
Unlike when I’d first sat down, this time I slid in beside my companion getting nice and close. Gina dropped unceremoniously into the seat across from us, all smiles.
“So, Spencer, what are your intentions with regard to my boss here? Something sexually depraved, I hope. I need to live vicariously through someone. My boyfriend is great but a girl needs a good spanking every now and then, know what I mean?” She winked.
Kill. Me. Now.
I leaned across the table, Spencer’s soft laughter in my ears as I hissed at her. “If you don’t get your ass to work, I’m making you clean the men’s room. Without gloves.”
“Whoops, gotta go.” She jumped up and started to scurry away before backtracking and leaning across the table toward Spencer. “You let me know if there’s something on your kink list she won’t do. I’m like a contortionist.”
She blew him a kiss and disappeared in a whirl of red hair and giggles.
Spencer laughed so hard his eyes watered.
Fuck the bonuses, she was so fired.
ONCE SPENCER STOPPED cracking up and I quelled my urge to throttle a certain incorrigible employee, we ordered drinks from one of the servers and sat quietly studying one another. My excitement at the prospect of another night spent with him was tempered by a feeling of dread at the thought of calling anyone my boyfriend. That was something I’d sworn I wouldn’t get roped into again. Part of me wanted to run and the rest of me was petrified in place, frozen in absolute terror.
I wasn’t sure I would ever be ready to take that kind of risk again.
He turned sideways in the booth and watched me over the rim of his glass, condensation dripping onto his fingers as he sipped. Sitting it casually back on its cork coaster he asked, “What’s got that deer-in-the-headlights look in your eyes? Is it Derek?” His tone was dry and even. “Or is it me?”
“A little of both, I guess.” I hated to admit it, but the way he was looking at me told me he’d know the truth whether I spoke it aloud or not. And I didn’t want him catching me in a lie. His idea of payback was bordering on torture. I clenched my thighs to relieve the dull ache and sipped my drink, not looking at him.
“Well, let’s start with Derek.” Again, he sounded like the name left a bad taste in his mouth. “If you’re uncomfortable having to spend time with him, I’ll gladly attend each of your meetings with him next week. I’ll keep a respectful distance, so not to interfere with the actual work you’ll be doing but staying close enough to snap his neck if he crosses the line.”
I shook my head, not believing he’d go so far to protect me. “I can’t ask you to do that. You live two hours away. That’s too much to ask of anyone, especially since Derek is more of a pest than a danger. I’ll be fine.”
He reached over and placed a finger under my chin, making me meet his eye. “Precious, a determined man is a danger, especially one who has already shown a clear disregard for the boundaries you set. Don’t fool yourself about his intentions. He wants you in his bed and will try to exploit any opportunity to make that happen. I’m glad to serve as cock-block for the week and then you can send him on his way, hopefully for good, and without jeopardizing the article.” He smiled softly, glancing at my lips. “As far as travel, I have several meetings in the area this week, a lucky coincidence.” He winked in a way that suggested it was anything but.
“And I thought maybe I could stay at your place, if you were agreeable to it. I feel no entitlement to share your bed and am perfectly comfortable on the couch. Though the idea of you meeting him every day with my scent marking you is marvelously appealing...”
I gave a soft groan at the thought and his eyes practically glowed with delight.
Tease.
Shit, he was so distracting.
I reached up and gripped his hand, pulling it away from my face and entwining our fingers. “Wouldn’t a boyfriend expect to share my bed?”
His head tilted back and he pursed his mouth in understanding. “Ah, now I see where the look is coming from. That word.” He glanced around quickly as if about to share a state secret or something then grinned at me. “Sweetheart, that was for his benefit. I wanted him to back off, and it was clear that you did too, so I staked my claim in the only way I knew how,” he chuckled. “I was a split second from calling you my fiancé but realized you’d need a ring to pull that one off.”
It was a strange thing to be overrun with relief and disappointment at the same time.
“So, that was all for show?”
He studied me for a moment, his smile slipping. “Did you want it to be real?” The tone of his voice was odd, as if he was scrambling to decide whether to even ask the question. I’d never heard him uncertain before and I wasn’t sure what that meant.
I watched him watching me and considered a moment. “We’ve never really discussed what this thing between us is and I’m fine with that. It is what it is, no labels needed. As far as Derek’s appearance and you appointing yourself as my ‘boyfriend,’ I’ll admit I was taken by surprise by the whole thing. From the moment I walked around the corner expecting to see you in the booth and found him sitting there instead.”
He nodded thoughtfully, sipping his drink. “I suppose I’d feel the same way in your shoes. Luckily, he’s easy to scare off. He took the first available opening and hauled ass.”
