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Rhyland pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “Goner.”
“This time it was done faster than a light laundry cycle,” Dylan told Rhy. I had no idea what they were talking about. I just knew that with each sentence, they brought Row closer to obtaining a criminal record.
“Cal, leave,” Row barked.
“No, Cal, stay.” Dylan knotted her arms over the top of her belly, staring at him pointedly.
Wow. Way to make me feel like a Labrador getting trained to be a service dog.
I looked between the siblings, itching to remove myself from the situation. “Who should I listen to?”
“The person who can toss you out the window without breaking a sweat,” Row recommended dryly. “And has every inclination to do so.”
“The person whom you’d like to make amends with.” Dylan dipped a finger into my bra and sucked some icing into her mouth. “And is also on bed rest and shan’t become upset.”
I firmly planted my ass back on her bed, sending Row an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, buddy. Not gonna make the same mistake twice.”
“Speaking of mistakes, how’s that baby cookin’, Dylan?” Rhyland asked conversationally, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.
Row shot him a pissed-off look, which, in my humble opinion, was the only look he was capable of. “Hey, shithead, don’t you have new staff to find me?”
“You need new staff?” Dylan cocked her head. “How come?”
Actually, I was intrigued too. He owned a bougie restaurant. The tips must be divine. And I was used to working for top-notch eateries in Manhattan. Plus, it would show Dylan that I could keep my hands to myself this time. I was going to be platonic and professional with that mountain man.
Also, did I mention that I needed to pay my New York rent? And utilities? And general existence?
“Two of our waiters ran off to elope and do a coast-to-coast.” Rhyland perched against a wall, popping a thick eyebrow up skeptically. His main job seemed to be leaning against sturdy objects and looking sensual. Kind of like Jason Momoa. With better hair product.
“Ugh. So romantic.” I fanned my eyeballs, feeling teary-eyed. Then I saw the look Row gave me and quickly added, “And irresponsible. Totally irresponsible. Especially with the time it takes to learn every ingredient on the menu and correct timings. I would never.” I paused, then clarified, “Leave without at least a month’s notice, not…get married. Although, judging by my love life, ain’t nobody needs to save up for a wedding gift.” My inability to exist without saying or doing something stupid never ceased to amaze me. They said the spotlight can either make you shine or melt. I knew where I was standing. My eyes ticked like crazy.
Rhyland gave me a once-over. “Did you say timings?”
I nodded enthusiastically. Mom was right. Getting out of the house was a great way to find job leads. “Yeah. I looked at Descartes online. You do a prix fixe menu, right?”
Rhy took a step deeper into the room, in my direction, looking enchanted. “Table d’hôte.”
“Don’t even think about it, Rhy.” Row raised a finger to his best friend, and I swear that thing was thicker than an oak trunk. “Don’t even think about thinking about it.”
Too late. My mind was reeling. The money I would make could set me up not only with rent and utilities but also with maybe renting out a little studio to record my podcast. Or perhaps just the equipment to set up in my own apartment.
“Ever worked as a high-end server, Cal?” Rhyland asked. I’d read on the Descartes website that he had a management position there. Growing up, Rhy was to Row what I was to Dylan. But I couldn’t imagine him doing something so straitlaced. He was more the type to bull-ride and axe-throw. Run away from a burning castle with a princess tossed over his shoulder. He had always been too charming for his own good.
“Yes!” I exclaimed, ignoring Row’s death glare that was currently burning a hole through my temple. “I worked for Avant Garden for two years while I was in college and just finished a two-year contract at Tsukimishi.”
“Don’t care if she won the Georges Baptiste Cup for best server for seven consecutive years.” Row jabbed his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans. “She isn’t hired.”
“I was also a chef de partie at Teddy’s one summer.” I perked up sunnily, flashing Row what I hoped was an adorable smile. “I have three references and a bevy of experience working under pressure. And under assholes too!”
Rhyland barked out a laugh, clapping at my little performance. “She’s the one, Row.”
“Glad you’re familiar with assholes.” Row checked his phone, tucking it back into his pocket. “Because the only job you’ll be getting in this town is scrubbing toilets, and not mine.”
“Honestly?” Dylan ignored her brother. “You sound perfect for the job. Doesn’t she, Rhy?”
“Chef’s kiss.” Rhyland touched his fingers to his lips. “And other party favors, if this guy has his way.” He wiggled his brows and looked at me just a moment longer than he should.
I stiffened. I didn’t like men’s eyes on me. Even if I knew Rhyland.
