I shivered and it had nothing to do with the cold weather.
A manager walked over a few seconds later and asked if I was making a delivery. I explained that the hostess had gone to find Ezra. He stood next to me and waited to find out if I was telling the truth or not. Because in my wide-leg trousers and cold-shoulder sweater, I apparently looked like a dangerous criminal.
Ezra arrived thirty seconds later, mouth already turned down, eyes already laser focused.
“Molly,” he greeted in his usual way. “Let me get those.” He shot a glare at his floor manager and scooped up the centerpieces before I could object.
“Uh, thanks.”
He tilted his head toward his office. “Walk with me.”
Not waiting for my reply, he turned around and headed back the way he came. I glanced nervously at the snooty floor manager and clueless hostess.
Neither offered any comfort or help.
Ezra paused just before he reached the dining area and noticed I wasn’t directly behind him. “Molly,” he clipped out.
His terse order got my feet moving and I reluctantly followed him around the outer edges of the restaurant toward his office.
Nerves jumped and buzzed in my stomach, my fingers tingled and I tried to build my case quickly against this man I didn’t know what to think about anymore.
It was the way he said my name, I decided. That was how he kept getting me to do his bidding.
I’d always disliked my name. Even as a child I had realized it sounded like a child’s name. Now as a grown-up it was the farthest thing from mature. It was on the opposite side of the spectrum from sexy and sophisticated.
Molly.
It sounded like a toddler’s name. Or your best friend’s name. Or the eccentric cat lady that never left her apartment.
No wonder I’d been friend-zoned so often. No guy could imagine themselves married to a plain, boring Molly.
Except when Ezra said it, Molly didn’t sound boring or plain or friendly. He said my name like a command. He glided over the consonants and caressed the vowels. When Ezra said my name, I was anything but the crazy cat lady. I was bold, beautiful, and everything defiantly female.
I responded to Ezra because he said my name how I had wanted to hear it my entire life.
“Shut the door,” he ordered as he set the spice racks down on the center of his desk.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked archly.
His back was to me, but I heard him clearly when he said, “Only if you’ve brought tropical birds with you.”
“They’re in my car. I’m telling you, it’s a world-class menagerie.” When Ezra didn’t laugh at my reference, I tried to help him out. “Aladdin? You know the Disney movie?”
He turned around and planted his hands on his hips. “I’ve never seen it.”
“Are you serious? It’s like a staple of my childhood. Vera and I would constantly fight over who got to be Jasmine.”
He shrugged. “I didn’t have a Disney movie kind of childhood.”
Instantly, I regretted every word I’d spoken in the last two minutes. I wanted to snatch them out of the air and shove them back in my mouth. Instead, they buzzed around the small office like biting flies. I knew he’d had a tragic past. I knew his mom had died when he was a kid and he lived out the rest of his childhood in foster care. I knew he hadn’t known his dad until he was almost dead. But I only knew any of that because Vera had told me. So it wasn’t exactly like I could bring it all up now.
I settled on a weak and pathetic, “Huh...”
His gaze moved over me, noting my fitted sweater and the cutouts over my shoulders and biceps. A smile tugged at his lips but he refused to loose it. “Thank you for bringing these by. I’m sorry Meg didn’t reach out to you directly. She can be spacey.”
“It’s not a problem,” I told him. “Don’t you think they’ll be cute?”
He lifted the top one up by the corner. “They are symbolic.”
I couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or an insult so I chose to move on. Oh, did I say move on? I meant, poke the bear. “Picture them bursting with peonies.”
He looked up at me and where I was expecting to find a battle in his eyes, I found only amusement. “I’m not sure I even know what a peony looks like.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Cute,” I repeated. “It looks cute.”
The corners of his mouth lifted in a devastating smile that reached all the way to his rich, chocolate eyes. My breath whooshed out of me in a surprised exhale. I had expected him to argue with me, to challenge my taste. I did not expect him to soften and warm, and look like that.
I bit down on my bottom lip, schooling my expression and filling up with irritation. I wanted him to pick a fight with me. I wanted him to dismiss me for an important call or forget I even existed. I did not need him smiling at me and giving me all of his focus and talking about Aladdin—which everybody knew was the hottest of the Disney princes.
I blamed the Hammer pants and cartoon abs.
“So, what’s the final head count?” he asked.
Happy to have something to focus on, I answered quickly. “Fifty-ish I think? I’m not totally sure because a lot of Killian’s friends were maybes. Or they were planning on coming late, after they closed their kitchens.”
Ezra chuckled a low, throaty sound. “That’s why I picked a Friday night,” he confessed. “I was hoping they would all have to work.”
“Are you serious?” I asked because I couldn’t tell. “Won’t that make Killian mad?”
“I did it for Killian. Honestly, he could care less if anyone from the industry showed. He has Vera. That’s what matters to him.”
I wondered if Ezra understood the point of an engagement party at all. The plan was to invite all of the happy couples’ friends so they could bring gifts or money, or simply show up and shower them with love. It was all about support and camaraderie. It had nothing to do with making Killian and Vera feel comfortable. Obviously.
“So does fifty-ish include your date?” Ezra asked casually.
I waved off any idea of him flirting with me because that was basically insane. “I think Steph mentioned setting me up with someone? But I can’t remember his name.”
Ezra’s smile disappeared in favor of his usual frown. “Steph that works for me?”
“Yeah.”
“How do you know Steph?”
“Wyatt,” I explained. Then I canted my head to the side, wondering how aloof this man really was. “Wyatt and I are friends.”
“Is that who Steph is setting you up with?”
“God, no,” I laughed. “No, this guy is from a different restaurant I think. And not a head chef. Steph was very adamant that I don’t want to date a chef.”
“You don’t,” Ezra agreed. He must have seen confusion all over my face because he quickly added. “I currently employ several of them and they’re not dating material. They’re the worst.”
“Even Killian?” I teased.
“Especially Killian. Although he doesn’t work for me anymore.”