“Thank you.” Even though he felt extremely bitch-slapped, Maris gathered what little dignity he could and turned to leave.
As he reached the door, someone touched his arm. He turned to find a tiny pregnant woman who barely reached the middle of his chest.
“Are you Maris, my lord?”
Still aware of the smug leering faces of those who’d seen his humiliation, he gave a curt nod.
She let out an exasperated breath. “I knew it when I saw you! You look just like Ture described you. I am so sorry Bertram’s a dumb ass. Please, come with me. Ture’s asked and asked all night if you were here yet.”
With those few words, she made him feel instantly better. “After you, madame.”
She smiled and turned to lead him back into the restaurant.
“Excuse me?” Bertram snapped as they started past his station. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She glared at him with an artificial smile. “Hopefully to save your job and your stupid ass. Instead of giving me attitude, you should be saying, thank you.”
Color suffused his cheeks.
She reached past Bertram to show the handwritten note that was taped to this stand. Jerking it loose, she slapped it against his chest and left it to hang there. “Lord Maris is a personal friend of Ture’s, you moron. He’d have chewed your rump for dessert had I not come out of the restroom in time to catch sight of the man he told all of us to keep our eyes open for. Remember the meeting?”
Paling considerably, he looked at the paper, then to Maris. “I am so incredibly sorry. I—I—I—”
“Keep sputtering,” she said, “then find us when you finally have an intelligent thought again.” She turned back to Maris with a friendly, heartfelt smile. “Please, my lord, come with me.”
Maris offered her his arm.
She took it and led him into the restaurant and then to his complete confusion, through the double doors and into the commercial kitchen area. Really uncomfortable, he slowed down.
Without a word, she pulled him toward a far corner in the rear where a table was set even nicer than the ones for their clientele. She pulled a padded chair out for him. “My name’s Anachelle. What can I get for you to drink, my lord?”
So this was the woman Ture had taken in. As Ture had predicted, Maris understood now why Ture had been so kind to her. Something about her was very kind and sweet, and it wasn’t just because she’d gallantly saved his ego. “The dry house wine.”
“Very good, my lord. I’ll be right back.”
Still uncomfortable, Maris assumed his full aristocratic bearing as he noted the number of curious glances he received from the staff as they worked while Ture was nowhere to be seen.
This was really awkward.
Maybe he should have stayed at home....
*
Ture came to a complete standstill as he left the freezer and finally saw the one face he’d been dying to see for days now. He’d been jittery and nervous since the moment Maris had accepted his invitation.
Now Maris was here...
And he was even more handsome than he remembered.
Ture swallowed hard as he admired the way Maris looked. Dressed in an expensive black suit that was a lot more conservative than the man wearing it, Maris was the same rigid military commander who’d rescued him. He bled total masculinity and ferocity. Confidence and elegance.
The word sexy was an understatement when applied to a man like him.
“Mari?”
He turned with full aristocratic bearing and rose slowly to his feet. “Ture.” He inclined his head to him.
Confused by his continued stern formality, Ture frowned as he closed the distance between them. “Is something wrong?”
Keeping a respectful and aggravating distance, Maris leaned down slightly to whisper in his ear. “I don’t know how open you are, and I don’t want to get you into trouble at work with your boss.”
That was the kindest thing anyone had ever said or done for him in his life. And it explained the conservative clothing that hugged his lean, well-muscled body. And now that Ture thought about it, it looked like Maris had borrowed those somber clothes from Darling.
In that one moment, Ture knew he was definitely in love with this man. Even though he barely knew him.
Smiling, he turned his head and captured Maris’s lips with his for a tender kiss before Maris pulled away. “They all know where my taste lies, sweetie. As for the other? I own the restaurant and while I stay pissed at myself for multitudinous reasons, you’re definitely not one of them.”
Maris returned his smile and noticeably relaxed. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you or presume anything. The way you talk about it, I thought you just worked here.”
It was true. He did. “Force of habit. I started as a cook and bought it from the former owner three years ago.”
“Ah.”
Anachelle returned with his wine and set it down.
Ture frowned at her. “What did I tell you, missy?”