AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I pulled the pillow Morgan had used next to me, inhaling the sweet lavender vanilla scent. I was going to make a scone with lavender vanilla and call it the Morgan scone. Yep, I’d dived head first into sappyville. My brothers would have a field day if they knew.
But it wasn’t just Morgan I had to think about. She was going to have a baby. She was a strong capable woman, but Ash was right, she’d need help. Running a restaurant required long hours, usually at night. I could hire her a nanny, but I couldn’t imagine Morgan deferring her baby’s care to a third person. Nope, she was the type to strap her baby on her back while expediting the orders. Or maybe she’d work the front for once, letting her customers see her precious child. That might be a little casual and folksy for the type of diner the place attracted. I remembered how she’d originally wanted a place more oriented to families. Maybe I should have helped her with that.
Fuck, I wanted to help her with it all — her dream. Her happiness. Her baby. The question was, would she want me?
The next night, I couldn’t stay away another moment. It was Friday night, so the place should be packed, but I went anyway. She was expediting again, and John was right, she was commanding, but that didn’t mean she and the kitchen crew weren’t feeling the effects of a crowded restaurant.
“A bunch of them walked in together,” John told me as I watched Morgan from the corner of the kitchen. “We do have a couple of complaints about the wait. She does great when the flow is steady, but not when we’re swamped. When we’re slammed, she struggles. Another chef might help. I know one that I’ve worked with in the past.”
I considered his words, trying to focus on the professional part of the conversation and not on the one where I ask him if he fucked Morgan and knocked her up. In considering his words, I had to wonder if Morgan was doing more than she was ready to do. Plus, she was pregnant. I remembered Sara at the beginning of her pregnancy. She was exhausted. Fuck. I should have Morgan lay down and rest, not multitask like a maniac to call out orders, pretty up the plates, and send them out.
“Mr. Raven?”
I turned, and saw a local food critic. I hoped he wasn’t one of the complainers John mentioned.
“I’ll handle this,” John said.
I was about to let him, but then shook my head. “No. Let me.”
“Lyle, how are you?” I said, walking toward him. “Do you have a table?”
“Yes, over in the corner.”
“Can I bring you a drink?” I said. Nothing like comped booze to help improve a review.
“I’m good. I did want a chance to talk to you though.”
“I’m happy to.” I walked with him back to the table and sat.
“Is this a Raven establishment?” Lyle asked pulling out his notebook. He’d already eaten, and I frowned that his dishes were still on the table.
I raised a hand to get John’s attention and pointed to the dishes. To his credit, he came over instead of sending a waiter.
“Let me get those for you,” he said taking the dishes.
“To answer your question, not exactly. Raven Industries has just started a new program to fund small businesses run by women. This is our first project. What do you think?”
“The food is quite unique. It seems to want to be a fusion, but doesn’t quite hit the mark.”
Fuck. That wasn’t good. “Actually, it was my suggestion that she keep things more traditional.”
“Hmmm,” he made another notation in his notebook. “The service was a little slow.”
I nodded and considered making an excuse, but I decided if I had to make excuses that would make Morgan look unprepared. “I’ll let the owner know. Any other feedback I can help her on?”
His eyes narrowed like he was surprised by my response. I was usually more aggressive in defending my restaurants, but this wasn’t mine, no matter how much I wanted to make it a success with Morgan.
We continued to chat for another fifteen minutes. When he left, I went back to the kitchen to check on Morgan.
The chef and his team were still working, but Morgan was standing with her head down wiping her brow. John was standing in front of her. He put his hand on her cheek.
“It’s okay. We all get a little flustered. We were slammed.”
At least that’s what I thought he said. I couldn’t be sure, because white hot rage was clanging in my ears at seeing him touch her.
“Morgan.” My voice was sharper than I’d have wanted, but seriously, it was probably lucky I wasn’t pummeling him to a pulp.
He jumped back from her. “She just needed some support.”
