For the second time tonight I wondered if coming here was a big mistake. “Oh, no. I’m definitely not that chef. I just run a food truck.”
Ezra’s smile widened. “I’ve heard.”
I forced myself to hold his gaze when all I wanted to do was stare at my shoes. “This is my friend Molly,” I told him, finally diverting his gaze elsewhere. “She’s an artist.”
Ezra’s eyes lit up when he took her in. “Really? An artist of what variety?”
If I would have been standing next to her, she would have pinched me. “Graphic designer by trade,” she explained taking his hand when he offered it to her.
He seemed disappointed in her answer. I was too. But I couldn’t force her to acknowledge her talent.
Leaning toward her, Ezra asked her opinion on something design oriented. She answered, and he immediately pulled out his phone. Just like that, they were talking shop.
Ezra walked around Killian so he could show Molly his screen and she started pointing at it, explaining nervously.
Knowing Killian would have to get back to the kitchen soon, I stood up and turned to face him again. He still towered over me, even though I’d worn my slutty heels tonight. The red stilettos gave me four inches of height but I still only reached the middle of his beard. “Thank you for dinner. You didn’t have to—”
He shrugged, cutting me off. “I figured you should have the most information at your disposal.”
“I didn’t come here to spy on you.”
His gaze narrowed. “Then why did you come?”
“I needed to see what the fuss was about.”
“And?”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys that needs his ego coddled?”
He leaned in, brushing his shoulder against mine. “Every guy is that guy. Don’t single me out.”
I tried not to smile. Really. I gave it my best effort. “Honestly?”
He pulled back, holding my gaze and nodding. “Why do you think women always hold the power?”
If I didn’t know better, I would have thought he looked nervous. His eyes moved over me tentatively, and his hands were tucked into his pockets.
“Honestly, I think everything needs a little more salt.”
Shock hit his entire body at once, rocking him back on his heels. He’d expected me to fawn over him, to fall to my knees and praise him for being a god in the kitchen.
But I was done kissing ass to great chefs who didn’t need to be told they were great.
Before Killian could respond, Molly’s sharp voice captured my attention. “I suppose it’s up to you,” she snapped at Ezra. “It’s your website. Your logo. You should do what you want to do.”
“Even if it looks like shit?” Ezra snarled.
“I didn’t say that.”
The two of them glowered at each other, and it was so shocking that I couldn’t even figure out a way to rescue the conversation. Molly didn’t snap at people. Molly didn’t glower at them. Molly was sweet and shy and always professional.
Always.
Ezra stepped back, disentangling himself from conflict. “I’ll let you get back to your meal. Thank you for your advice.” To Killian, he said, “I’ll be at my usual table.”
Killian nodded. “I’ll find you later. We can talk about Bianca.”
Bianca was one of Ezra’s other restaurants, closer to the suburbs. And it sounded like they were having chef problems. I immediately wondered who they would hire.
Killian hovered a second longer before nodding toward his kitchen. “I should get back. I just wanted to make sure everything tasted fine.”
“Thanks for checking on us,” Molly gushed before I could answer. “I didn’t know food could taste this good.”
I kicked her shin under the table.
Killian tugged on his beard, somehow acknowledging me without looking at me. “I don’t believe you.” Finally, he turned back to me and said, “I’ll have Shane clean this up and bring you dessert. You can stay as long as you’d like, the meal is on me tonight.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Just tell me what you’re making this weekend,” he countered as if that would be fair play.
I stood for almost thirty seconds not knowing what to say or how to react. He couldn’t possibly be that interested in my cooking. Or my menus. When logic failed, sarcasm swooped in to save the day. “I’d rather pay my bill,” I told him.
His hand swiped over his mouth, hiding his brief smile. “I guess I’ll have to stop by and find out for myself then.”
“No, that’s not what I—”
He’d already turned away from me. “Molly, it was a pleasure to meet you. Forgive my friend, he’s a bigger asshole than I am.” Molly tried to apologize for her behavior too, but Killian cut us both off and said, “Goodnight, ladies.”
Then he was gone. Like a dragon back to his lair.
I turned to Molly. “What just happened?”
Her eyes cut across the restaurant to where Ezra had disappeared. “I’m not totally sure I know.”
“Men are weird.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “I think you might be on to something with your vow of celibacy.”
“So, are you saying you’re taking the vow with me?”
Her head tipped back with the force of her laughter. “No, God, no. I was just admitting that you’re smarter than me.”
I leaned back when Shane showed up to swap our third course plates for a buffet of desserts. “Would you ladies like to see the coffee menu?”
I winked at Molly. “Absolutely.”
Chapter Twelve
Three days later, I got a call from Vann while I was in the middle of prepping tonight’s crispy pork belly pot pie, which was not at all inspired by Killian or Lilou or the dinner Molly and I shared Tuesday night that I hadn’t stopped thinking about once. I wiped my hands on my apron and tucked my phone between my shoulder and chin.
“Is everything okay?” I asked instead of a regular hello.
“I just wanted to go over everything again before I pick him up.”
My brother sounded scared and unsure. I could count on one hand how many times Vann had been afraid of something growing up. But my dad’s illness was one of them.
Steadying my voice and doing my best to sound casual, I explained the chemo treatment area. “You’ll be in a private room, so you won’t have to deal with anyone else except the nurse. There’s a TV. He’ll probably sleep through most of it.”
“And when will he get sick?
“Not until Sunday.” Dad was getting sicker with each treatment. He’d started out handling them like a champ, but recently the two days following his treatment were bad.
Thankfully, I had Sunday off so I could sit with him and wait on him when he needed me. Dad’s treatments were usually on Tuesday, so I always took him. But this week, they asked him to come in on Friday. He had ten weeks of treatment left. Vann offered to take him today, so I could work.
Vann was quiet for so long that I had to look at my phone to make sure the line was still connected. “Is he going to be okay, Vera?”