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“Hey new girl, come in here for a sec.” I flick my chin up, indicating the kitchen.
She looks around as if trying to figure out if I’m actually addressing her but finally she walks to the swivel doors and pushes through, slowly stepping into the kitchen.
“Uh hi … what’s up?” she says with a shy smile.
“What’s your name, princess?”
“James,” she mutters, her blue eyes wide and worried as if I'm a monster she found hiding in her closet—which makes fucking with her maybe a littletoosatisfying.
I let out a small chuckle, my face falling to the side, then back at her. “Cute. Well,Jimbo… Do I look like a fridge to you?”
She stays silent for a beat. “A what?” she mumbles, looking confused but also slightly miffed.
Must be the nickname.
“An appliance? A kitchen tool? Astationaryobject,” I volley back, leaning my palm on the station to my side. “‘Cause it’s either you think we’re inanimate objects or you’re just too good to greet the kitchen staff. I don’t know …” I say while scratching my head. “Could be both.”
I hear Alec chuckle somewhere in the back of the kitchen, and I swallow back my grin, much too amused with seeing the new girl flustered.
“Oh! Oh my god … I didn’t mean to—I just didn’t know … well I was just …” she says, her eyes growing even wider,and …shit. Are they getting watery? “I’m sorry,” she says sheepishly, her gaze falling to the floor, her fingers toying together nervously in front of her.
I suddenly regret this little game we’re playing.
“No worries,” I respond quickly, pushing off the counter. “Now you know.” I give her a quick once over while she looks like she’s trying to shake herself out of whatever overcame her. “So what do you do next time you clock in?” I ask, trying to sound teasing and less of a jerk.
Her face brightens, a shy smile returning. “I greet the kitchen,” she says with a small nod.
“Quick learner,” I mutter, taking the cigarette from behind my ear.
“Anyway …” she says tentatively. “I’ve got to go … See you tomorrow?”
I smile, the unlit cigarette between my lips. “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Jimbo.”
Her eyebrows pinch together but she doesn’t say anything further. I keep my gaze glued to her bouncy ass as she walks out of the kitchen.
She won’t last the week.
4
JAMES
Staring out the window, I watch as Zachary adjusts his collar before opening the car door for me and I climb out. Taking my hand, he leads me inside Harvest, a renowned Michelin-star restaurant famous for only using local ingredients.
“What’s the occasion?” I ask again since he evaded the question earlier when he picked me up.
“Why do I need a reason to spoil my girl?” he says with a grin, smoothing his salmon-colored button-down shirt. My flowery dress matches the white in his trousers, cinched at the waist and revealing just enough cleavage to make it sexy yet classy. I wanted to wear my favorite wedge sandals but chose a shorter heel since I know how much Zachary hates it when I’m taller than him.
“I guess you don’t,” I answer with a quiet giggle. To my ear, it feels a little forced.
That small inner voice again …
Hinting to me that he’s acting squirrelly. Somethingabout his demeanor makes me nervous and I can’t seem to shake it.
Walking up to the maître d’, he doesn’t greet the employee but simply says, “Reservation for two underGarret.” He enunciates his family name as if expecting some kind of recognition for his ancestors’ achievements in founding Marsford Bay. I roll my eyes behind his back. The maître d’ simply raises an eyebrow and shows us to our table.
The restaurant is industrial, with open ceilings that reveal uncovered beams and pipes, giving off an impersonal atmosphere. If I had to guess, it’s on purpose—one of those places where the food served is the only thing that needs any flair.
Sitting down, Zachary reaches over the table and wraps his hand around mine, his thumb gently making circles on the back of my hand. “You look stunning, honeybun.” I smile coyly, squeezing his hand as a thank you. Pausing, he seems to study me, then adds, “I do miss the blonde though.”
