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“Hold on a sec.”
Heading into the kitchen, I make my way toward the coffee pots.
“You’re a godsend,” I say to Brax. My kitchen manager, and the only other person here today, Brax is running inventory. And also has a fresh pot brewing.
“I won’t argue with you there.”
A former Navy guy, huge hunter and all-around great guy, Brax was the first person I went to when DeLuca’s was still in the planning stages. He’s the best cook in Bridgewater, hands down, even if he does more managing than cooking these days. But his touches are in many of the menu items, and we’re better off for it.
“How’d it go?”
I pour Frank’s coffee and stick a lid on it. “Really good. I’ll fill you in later. How much longer will you be?”
He looks up from his clipboard. “Another hour or so.”
“I’ll be out front, if you need anything.”
Swinging the kitchen doors back open, I stop short. The sight is not what I expected at all.
The shock of having Evie in my restaurant, as if I’d summoned her by thinking of nothing but those luscious curves and the way she moaned in my ear, wears off pretty quickly. What has Frank told her? Does it matter? He’s not from the area and likely has no idea she’s the chef owner of the oldest Italian restaurant in Bridgewater. One that will only be getting more popular, in my opinion, under her guidance.
And she’s wearing a sundress.
A blue, spaghetti-strapped sundress that hits above her knees. My eyes roam downward, to Evie’s shapely legs, my fingers immediately itching to hike it up.
I’m so fucked.
“Evie,” I say, approaching. Her typical cedar lemon scent has been replaced with something else. A touch of raspberry. Sweet. Enticing.
Her dark hair is down around her shoulders.
“Looks like you met Frank already?”
“Just introduced myself,” Frank says, reaching for the coffee I’m handing to him. “Lovely to meet you,” he says to Evie, then turns back to me. “I’ll be in touch with those documents. Thanks for the meal. And the coffee.”
“My pleasure.”
We shake hands again, and Frank leaves Evie and me alone.
I want to kiss her.
I want to pull her into me, make her moan in pleasure again. I want to touch her so badly, it hurts. Actually, physically, hurts.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she says, looking around the place.
Aside from Dad and Enzo, I’ve never been more on edge, waiting to see what she thinks. This place is my baby, the culmination of a dream.
“It’s perfect,” she says finally.
You’re perfect.
“Give me a tour?”
Putting aside the fact that, under normal circumstances, this would not be happening, I pretend Evie is just another woman, and not the owner of Leoni’s. As if Evie could ever be just another woman.
She hasn’t been that since walking into Enzo’s wedding reception.
“Sure.”
