5. Hot Spot
Chapter 5
Hot Spot
CALLIE
T he pretty wife is back.
And she isn’t alone.
With my luck, that’s Marco’s wife, and I’m guilty of ogling alllll the husbands.
Rushing over despite the pit of dread, I ignored where Marco stood in the same spot as the previous time. I smiled at Juliet and the dark-haired woman who looked around our age. I opened my mouth to do my greeting but didn’t have the chance when Juliet spoke first.
“Hi, Callie. How are you?”
“I’m good. Can I get you something to drink?”
“I’m thinking a margarita.” She held up her hand at Marco as he turned toward her. “I said I’m thinking it. But I’ll have an iced water, please.”
“Sparkling or still?”
She scoffed. “Tap is fine.”
“And for you?” I asked the brunette.
“Same.”
“Are you ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?”
Juliet leaned forward. “What kind of cake does Freddy have today?”
I didn’t make it through the list before the brunette interrupted, “Ohh, that one, please.”
I tapped the option for salted caramel on my handheld, but the screen glitched, going through multiple windows before landing back on the dessert field. That time when I tried, it worked.
Phew.
I didn’t have to resume the list when Juliet shared, “If I’m alive and there’s a slice of Freddy’s funfetti cake, it will always be my order.”
“Got it.” I hit the option for that and started to step away before turning back to look at Marco for the first time since they’d arrived. He wore basically the same as before—a dark suit, a dark shirt, and an angry expression. “Would you like anything?”
He met my eyes and held the contact for long enough that I began to panic. Then he shook his head and looked away before belatedly adding, “But thanks.”
Okay.
I cleared plates from another table as they wrapped up their meal. After dumping the dishes into the wash area, I went to pick up the desserts that were being set out.
Chef Frédéric looked over his shoulder from his separate section to see the plates I held. “Is Juliet here? The redhead?—”
I cut him off since the description of his wife was unneeded. “Yes, with a friend.”
“A friend?” An anticipatory—and edged—smirk curved his mouth. He pulled a towel free from his apron and wiped his hands before approaching. His fingers skimmed mine as he took the plates, and I nearly snatched my hands away, which would’ve dropped the load. His eyes narrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”
I barely gave him a nod before turning to get the hell away.
In the few days since finding out he was married, I’d done my best to ignore his existence. He hadn’t made it easy.
Especially right then.
Rather than just being a dominating force in the kitchen, he went out into the dining room to position himself at my table with his wife and the other woman—whose name was Mila, I overheard. Every time I had to approach to refill waters, he was talking about someone named Ash, but I didn’t stick close enough to find out who that was.
Not until a man with a shaved head and blond beard approached. He wasn’t as muscular as Marco, but he was still big.
I fought my nerves and softly offered him a drink or menu.
“I’m good,” he said before giving Mila his full attention. “We’re leaving.”
She stabbed a fork toward her plate. “But I’ve finally got fancy cake.”
“Take it to go, sunshine.”
The nickname wasn’t aimed at me, but I melted at it despite the bossy way he spoke.
Clearly, Mila didn’t mind his tone, either, because she instantly agreed. “I’ll take it to go.”
I grabbed the plate before she finished speaking and rushed into the back to box it up. I brought it out to find Chef Frédéric had finally returned to the kitchen and out of my space. The couple left shortly after, only for another man to join Juliet and Marco.
Parisian Crescent is the hot spot to be today.
And I do mean hot .
The man—with lighter brown hair and eyes—stood near Marco as they spoke, making me guess he was another guard or security or whatever Marco’s job was. He wore a suit like him, but he didn’t have the same resting angry face. His expression was soft but still somehow blank.
It was just as intimidating.
I was contemplating whether I should interrupt to offer him a menu or drink when my far table was sat.
No, not just sat.
It was packed. Eight people were squeezed into a booth that comfortably fit four.
The hostess veered from her path to mutter, “Sorry, Callie. They insisted.”
I offered her a smile that I hoped was reassuring and not as panicked as I felt. “I got it.”
Totally.
Maybe?
I inhaled and went through my mental checklist before approaching. The group was ready to order instantly, each of them getting a cocktail and food—some with a list of modification requests.
Despite the rapid-fire orders with all the additional information, I was doing fine keeping my calm. Right up until my handheld glitched out again. Unlike at Juliet’s table, it didn’t return to the order screen. It stayed frozen.
“Exc—” I tried to cut in to tell them I needed to get another handheld—or even a pen and paper—but the woman narrowed her eyes at my attempt.
“I’m speaking,” she snapped.
“I understand, but?—”
Talking over me, she kept going with her order.
Who does that?
This is going to be a disaster, they’re going to complain, and I’m totally getting fired.
Panic surged, making it even harder for me to stay focused, but I had no choice. I couldn’t just walk away while she was in the middle of speaking.
As soon as they were done, I beelined for the back. Tears of frustration and mortification burned in my eyes. I’d been ignored plenty of times in my life. Even in my few weeks at that job. But being treated like I was less than human was far worse than that.
I was vaguely aware of Marco saying my name in his quiet but firm voice, but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t even mutter that I would be right with him. My thoughts stayed locked in as I silently repeated the random phrase.
Reaching the server area, I scrambled for a pen and paper. I was vaguely aware of the door opening to the kitchen before Chef Frédéric asked, “What’s wrong?”
“ Shh ,” I whispered without thought.
Mentally repeating the mnemonic device I’d scrambled to form, I quickly jotted down the order in a messy scrawl. Once I had it, I went over it again to make sure I hadn’t missed anything in my freak-out.
I didn’t dare go check with the table.
For the first time in my life, I was almost grateful for the way I’d struggled in school. At least it taught me a few useful skills, like the mnemonic devices and my color-coded notes.
I lifted my head to apologize for my rudeness and ask Chef Frédéric for a new handheld. Only it wasn’t just him who stood close. Marco and the mystery hottie were there, too.
“What happened?” Chef asked, his accent thicker with his demanding tone. “Why’re you upset?”
He reached out to swipe away the few tears that’d slipped free to slide down my cheeks, but I dodged his touch. My gaze darted to the side to see Juliet was thankfully gone.
Small mercies. That would’ve been the cherry on this shit sundae.
“I’m fine,” I assured him before holding up the handheld. “It froze, and I didn’t want to forget the order.”
“Why didn’t you pause to get a new one?” He didn’t sound judgmental about it, just suspicious as he eyed the entitled guests.
Since they weren’t the first and wouldn’t be the last difficult table I had to deal with—the customer always being right and all that—I didn’t want to needlessly add whining to my incompetence. “I panicked.”
It wasn’t a lie.
“I’ll grab you a new one from the office,” Chef Frédéric said to me before looking between the other two men. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
Marco’s focus moved from my table to scowl at Chef Frédéric before he lifted his chin. His expression smoothed as he glanced down at me for a moment before walking away.
“And you?” Chef asked the mystery man.
The man gestured to the device I still gripped. “IT work.”
“I’ll call a different nerd.”
If this is how nerds look now…
Tess was right.
I really do need to start dating. Otherwise, I’m worried I’ll start throwing myself at random men.
“Why?” Mystery man took the device. “I’m right here.”
Chef didn’t look happy about that—something that clearly confused the man—before he stormed toward the back office.
The man watched him through lowered brows before giving me a small smile. It was friendly enough, but there was something probing in his gaze. Like I was a puzzle, and he was trying to work out where I fit.
If that was the case, he wasn’t the only one who wondered that.
It was entirely possible—and probable—that years of being watched closely had left me paranoid.
I was going with that.
“You’re new,” the man said, his voice as soft as him.
Not his body. Even in his suit, it was clear he was muscular and fit. But his expression. It was gentle.
It wasn’t a question, but I answered it anyway. “Yes, a few weeks.”
“Cole,” he introduced, holding out his hand.
I took it. “Callie.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“What would be nice is if you’d unhand my staff so she could get back to work.”
I jolted at Chef Frédéric’s sharp voice and yanked my hand free from where it was still in Cole’s tight grip.
Chef kept his glower aimed at Cole as he gave me a different handheld. “Let me know if this one gives you trouble.”
Does he mean the device…
Or the man?