Good luck, Wyatt. Ezra barely seemed capable of having a soul most days, let alone the ability to show human emotions like respect and trust. Wyatt had his work cut out for him.
On the other hand, I didn’t need Ezra’s admiration or for him to take me seriously. I didn’t have to work for him, and other than the engagement party, I never wanted to work with him either. Mostly I just wanted him to forget I existed altogether.
Ezra looked at Wyatt as though he was surprised to find him where he was supposed to be. In fact, he seemed a little more discombobulated than usual. Clearing his throat, he said, “I came in here to talk to you about… it can wait.” He turned his attention back to me and I felt like dropping to the ground and army crawling to freedom. “Molly, why are you here?”
Somehow, I managed to stay on my feet and brave him, even though every instinct screamed to run. “Taste testing,” I heard myself say.
His broad shoulders shifted and rolled. He struggled to collect his patience before he said, “Excuse me?”
I waved a hand at the cluttered counter. “For the engagement party. Wyatt wanted me to taste test.”
Ezra’s eyes narrowed. “I’m positive Wyatt is capable of choosing the menu on his own. You’re not allowed in my kitchen during business hours, Molly. You don’t work here. I need you to leave.”
Shame and embarrassment attacked in unison, spiraling through me until I wanted to call off the entire party. Or at the very least, host it someplace else.
Anywhere else.
Like a bowling alley.
Or the moon.
That would teach him a lesson.
I cleared my throat and managed a weak, “Sure thing.”
Picking up my purse from the floor I tried to calmly leave through the side door again, back the way I came.
“Not that way,” Ezra clipped out through the very, very quiet kitchen.
The entire staff had stilled, watching in horrified amusement as their scary boss attacked poor, helpless, little old me. And okay, maybe I broke the rules and Ezra had every right to toss me out on my ass, but didn’t one of them want to stick up for a damsel in distress?
Where was my knight in shining armor?
My rebel without a cause?
I looked at Wyatt for help, but the best he could do was shoot me an apologetic frown. Traitor.
My eyes slammed shut and I decided I would be okay with an alien abduction right about now. Or a marauding band of pirates? How about Godzilla? Could I at least get a good, old-fashioned Godzilla attack? Anything to save me from Ezra’s judgment.
Spinning around on my heel, I held my chin high, even though all I wanted to do was hang my head like a shamed child. I walked across the kitchen with all the poise I could muster in feet that were over high heels three hours ago. Needless to say, it wasn’t my most graceful moment.
Ezra Baptiste was one of the most intolerable men I had ever met. Arrogant, condescending, offensively good looking, he had all the qualities of a human I tried to avoid. Not only that, he’d once attacked my professional taste and that was something I would never forgive him for.
We were forced to interact with each other thanks to our mutual friends, but in the last few months I’d gotten really good at avoiding him. Not that it was hard. He owned three successful restaurants in Durham and co-owned a fourth. He was wealthy and busy, and it was weird that we knew the same people.
He was all cool, important businessman. Most days, I felt like I was playing dress-up as an adult. I paid bills, went to work, and lived alone. Yet nothing about my life fit well, like when I was a little girl and would try on my mom’s dresses.
Ezra was a man that knew who he was and what he wanted in life. I was just a girl trying to figure out how to check my own oil.
He led me through the kitchen and around the corner to his office. I thought about bolting out the front doors. Would he chase after me? No. He was too composed for that. Sue me for being a public nuisance? Maybe. Was it worth it though?
I sucked in my bottom lip and decided that yes, yes it was. But then I remembered I needed to talk to him about the party. The party he was hosting at his restaurant. So I reluctantly faced my fears and followed him inside the small, but organized office space.
He turned around and propped his hands on his hips. He looked so elegant in his suit, even with the jacket discarded over the back of his chair and his tie loosened around his neck. I had the strangest urge to run my thumb over his cheekbone.
I shivered, shaking off that oddly sympathetic instinct.
Needing to remind myself of who this man was, I spoke before he could. “I’m sorry, Ezra. It won’t happen again.”
He stared at me. “I hope you understand that I can’t have non-employees hanging out in my kitchen during business hours. The health inspector would love to catch you in there just to shut me down.”
Guilt mingled with shame and my heart pinched with regret. I held my hands up. “I get it. Really.”
Looking out the door, then back at me, he let out a slow breath. “So are you ready for Friday? Do you need anything else from me?”
It had been Wyatt’s idea to host the party at Lilou and he’d been the one to approach Ezra about it. I had kicked myself every day for letting him talk me into it. Sure, it would be extra special to Vera and Killian, but what about me? All I got out of it was an awkward conversation with this guy, and a whole helping of guilt for how much more Wyatt and Ezra were contributing.
I mean, it was my party, and so far, I’d sent out invitations and found a cute new dress on clearance.
“I think we’re ready. I’ll be here Friday afternoon to set up decorations as long as that works for you?” He nodded. “Are you sure it’s not a problem to close Lilou for an entire night? I feel awful.”
He expression relaxed, softened. “I’m happy to help.”
I wanted to argue with him, but I held my tongue. He had been the one to offer the date. He’d picked Friday night, not me.
Steeling my courage, I asked one more favor of him. “There is just one more thing,” I started. His dark eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “I’m not exactly sure how to get them here. I’m wondering if you would make up an excuse and invite them over? Or call them with some big, fake emergency that you can’t handle without them?”
Ezra Baptiste was the very definition of tall, dark and handsome. His hair was always trimmed neatly and combed in a way that screamed important. His jaw was always cleanly shaven, and his clothes always perfectly tailored and expertly pressed. He was basically the exact opposite of his best friend Killian.
But right now he looked utterly bewildered, erasing all of that sophisticated aloofness he worked so hard to pull off. “You want me to call them?”
“Or text,” I offered. “Whatever way works best for you. Just make up a foolproof reason for them to hurry over here.”
“You should probably do it,” he argued. “That seems like something you’d be good at.”
What did he mean by that? That I was good at lying? “What excuse could I possibly have for them to meet me at Lilou?”