7. Booth
CHAPTER SEVEN
booth
“If my taste buds could orgasm, they would.”
I grimace along with my brothers as my sister finishes her bite of tuna tartare, smacking her lips together with gusto.
“Never say that again while I’m alive.” Patrick pretends to gag.
“Ditto,” Graham mumbles.
Laid out along one of the two large wooden tables in the restaurant are half a dozen plates—empty and virtually licked clean.
The menus are updated, ready to go out for tomorrow’s lunch service.
Today’s team tasting allows for any final feedback on flavors and presentation, and is also a good excuse for us all to hang out.
We closed a couple of hours early for the occasion, and everyone—including my mom and Johanna’s dad, George —was here.
Most of the staff have headed over to the town’s one and only bar, where we’ll join them soon.
After that scene with Alessandra in the office, it’s clear I need to get out of my head.
I’m not some tourist you can pick up, play around with, and forget .
Her proximity shouldn’t have affected me the way it did.
Neither should her rich scent; a little sweet and arousingly feminine.
Fitting . She played me like a fiddle, and I walked right into her trap, handing her the bow.
But dammit, it was fun.
A tiny glimpse of her perky tits had all blood rushing south.
When she leaned in, and those curls I’m desperate to get my fingers tangled in crowded us and her plump lips grazed my cheek, I about died.
By the time my brain rebooted, she was halfway across the room, leaving me with a warning and a raging hard-on.
I’m sadistic, because I thickened even more at her sassy threat.
Even thinking about her sultry voice turns me on.
“Booth!” a chorus of people holler.
My eyes dart up to find everyone staring at me.
“What?” My cheeks heat.
I really need to get laid.
“Your mom asked you a question,” Johanna responds.
I turn to the petite woman at the opposite end of the table and gift her the smile that’s been getting me out of trouble for years.
“ Yeah , Ma ?”
The same color eyes as mine narrow at me, and the blonde-gray bob bounces as she shakes her head.
“ I said, what was the owner’s response to the menu change?”
Ah, shit.
“Oooh, you’re in trouble,” Dex whispers next to me, earning him an elbow to the gut.
With a worried look at Johanna , I flare my eyes slightly, as if to say, What do we do?
My gaze moves to Patrick , who’s wearing a shit-eating grin.
Florence is no help, too distracted by her phone, and Graham is too busy staring down at a cheerful Quinn tucked into his side.
The possessive prick hasn’t taken his hands off her all night .
With a tug on the waistband of my metaphorical big boy pants, I tell her the truth.
Or half.
“They haven’t shared their thoughts yet.”
“Interesting,” she murmurs.
“ When did you ask them?”
I swallow, noting how talk around the table has ceased.
“ Ask ? Umm , it was more of a courtesy email.” That is yet to be drafted.
“Booth.” My mom’s tone is serious.
Not even her favorite smile is going to save me.
Admitting defeat, I throw down the dishrag that’s been hanging from my shoulder.
“ The new dishes have a much better margin—ask Graham .”
My brother glares at me from behind his glasses.
“ Do not drag me into your messes.”
“Booth,” she warns again.
“They don’t know,” I grit out, sulking like a schoolboy being punished.
My response doesn’t surprise her.
Claire Sadler is all-knowing, and very scary when you get on the wrong side of her.
What’s worse, however, is that she doesn’t look mad or disappointed—which is arguably worse—she looks sympathetic.
I know turning down my ideas was hard for her, and right now I feel a fucking fool for going about it like this.
She glances down at the table, smiling softly.
“ These were some of the best dishes you’ve ever created. Delicious .” Everyone echoes her praises.
“ I’m sure if you’d have told the owner, they would have considered.”
“Doubtful.” I fold my arms across my chest, feeling very exposed and self-conscious suddenly.
“ I’ll pull the new menu and we can stick to what we know. Thanks anyway, I’m glad you liked them. ”
“It’s a bit late for that now.” I stare at my mom in confusion.
It’s not too late whatsoever.
“ You’ve made your bed now, Booth . Best you make yourself comfortable and lie in it. ”
We all freeze, sharing a what-the-fuck-is-she-on-about look.
“Umm, okay?” I tread carefully, worried it’s another trap.
Women have been ensnaring me all week.
She turns from the table, grabbing her coat from the rack by the front door.
“ Okay . It’s getting late. I’m excited to see what the customers think. See you all tomorrow.”
“I know you’ll do the right thing.” George claps me on the back, making his exit too.
After a beat, I shake myself out of my confused daze.
“ What the fuck was that?”
Florence is the first to speak.
“ I don’t know, but it was scary. I for sure thought she was going to hang you by the balls, Boothy .”
“It sounded like she gave you permission to be disobedient,” Graham replies.
“ Which you shouldn’t. You piss off the owner too much, they could disown us at the drop of a hat.”
My brother’s words remind me of Flo’s concerns the other day, who is currently gnawing at her lip.
I know what she’d do.
Quinn’s eyes widen when we direct our attention her way.
“ You want my opinion?” she squeaks.
“Duh, you’re family,” Flo responds and tugs a now teary-eyed Quinn into a hug.
“Oh. Um .” She glances at Graham , who, to his credit, doesn’t attempt to sway her.
“ I …don’t like the pressure. Can I be Switzerland ?”
Laughing, I look at Johanna , who doesn’t need me to ask what she’s thinking.
“ I saw how well the specials you came up with did earlier in the year. Everyone deservers to see what a talented chef you are.”
Patrick is next, and he doesn’t pull his punches.
“ There’s a smarter way to go about this, and as much as I don’t want to risk what we just saved…it feels like we need to take back a bit of ownership. We should have changed the menus in the spring. Do it.” He nods once .
“We have a tie,” I point out.
When a decision needed to be made on whether we should accept the current owner’s offer, all the Sadler and Thomas kids had input, along with our parents.
Which included Harriet , Johanna’s younger sister.
“Jo, any chance you can get Harry on the phone?”
She shakes her head.
“ She’s performing tonight.”
We all turn to Dex , who blows out a breath.
He fiddles with his hearing aid and winces when the feedback whistles in his ear.
Since losing the hearing in one ear when he was a teenager, it’s been a big transition for him.
We all face him fully and speak clearly when we’re together, which he always appreciates.
“No pressure then,” he jokes as he scrubs a hand over his buzz cut.
“ I’m tired of not knowing who runs this place. The same place that’s been like a second home to me, as it has for all of you.”
A weight pushes down on my chest, stalling my breath.
What started out as a bit of childish fun has turned into something more.
“I say we change the menu. I can’t imagine they’d pull the plug over something so small.” His words appear to ease the worry written on Florence and Graham’s faces.
He pauses, the dramatic bastard, then his lips curve deviously as we wait with bated breath.
“ Let’s smoke him out.”
An hour later, we’re all packed around two high-top tables in Shirley’s —the anonymous owner still the topic of conversation .
Shirley’s has been around since before I was born and is the spot to go for a drink with friends after work or to celebrate a special milestone over a lukewarm beer.
It’s rough around the edges, the paint is peeling, the staff is unwelcoming, but it’s an institution.
It also wouldn’t be what it is without Lenny , the owner, chasing us out of the building after the last call.
“You really think a couple of new menu items are going to have them revealing their identity?” Patrick challenges.
Jo peers up at him. “ He’s had it out for Booth the last couple of months. I’m confident they’ll take the bait.”
A palm slaps on the table, drawing all our attention to Florence .
“ Excuse me. All evening you’ve presumed it’s a dude. What if it’s a woman? This is the twenty-first century, fellas.”
I hold up my hands in apology.
“ Very true. Regardless , I’m not sure this will lure them out.”
“We could serve customers naked on rollerblades. That would get their attention.” My sister chuckles to herself, oblivious to the straight faces staring back at her.
“One step at a time.” Dex knocks his big shoulder into Florence .
“ Keep it in your pants for now, little Sadler .”
She rolls her eyes.
“ Quit it with the nickname, you oaf. I’m bored with this now. Let’s talk Christmas .” Her face turns animated, and she rubs her hands together like a big kid.
“Christmas will be canceled if that storm rolls in like they’re predicting,” Graham throws in.
Like a bunch of retirees, we chat about the weather for longer than necessary.
Dex goes to order in one more round, and Graham and Quinn take the opportunity to sneak out.
Since reuniting, they’ve been inseparable.
I peek a glance at Pat and Jo , who have been joined at the hip since they could walk.
While Graham’s relationship is new, Jo and Pat have been dancing around each other for years.
They were inevitable.
After Jo left town unexpectedly, Patrick closed a part of himself off, until she returned earlier this year and they reunited .
Witnessing the way both my brothers found a new form of happiness, all because of the women in their lives, has me questioning things.
Am I really happy? When I’ve lost the passion for my job and have no one to share my life with?
On the outside, I’m the funny guy, always cracking jokes to lighten the mood.
Easygoing and happy to go with the flow.
Never one to cause a fuss.
Or to be taken too seriously.
Only, since my family and friends have verbally backed my decision, I’m filled with nerves and regret.
Nerves because what if they’re blowing smoke up my ass, and customers hate the new dishes?
Regret because what if this isn’t what I want?
The cracking of pool balls colliding together pulls me from my thoughts, and I mentally shake myself.
I’m here, because it’s what Dad would have wanted.
He’s not around to do it anymore and I need to protect this place.
So, with a smile on my face, hoping no one sees the cracks I’ve been covering for way too long, I return to the conversation, poke fun at Patrick , and all feels right in the universe.
Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but foresight is better. Sadly, I lack both.