Chapter Eight
Nick
Dancing to Citrus Poison is a combination of pulsing up and down to a throbbing beat or moving back and forth to a slow melody. Even though their heritage is heavy metal, the band has a surprising range.
Currently, we’re swaying to a romantic ballad. I have my hands resting on Bethany’s waist and she’s cuddled next to me, with her arms around my neck, and her head on my shoulder. The delicious sensation of having her against me, touching from our chests to our feet with her lush curves swaying against me, makes my pulse skyrocket.
Little bursts of fire erupt everywhere just by being near this gorgeous woman. I wouldn’t be surprised if I melt into a puddle at her feet. Melt is the best way I can describe this thawing, cracking-open sensation in my chest as I open my heart up to Bethany. My ex-girlfriend dissolves into a distant memory.
Bethany and I reluctantly pull apart when the song ends. The lead singer—whose name turns out to be Max Mayhem—announces that the band is going to take a break, so everyone disperses from the dance floor.
“Thank you for the dances,” Bethany says after I pull out her chair and help her into her seat.
“You’re welcome,” I rasp. I’m still cooling down from the dancing, so I grab my replenished water glass and gulp it like a parched man in a desert.
Bethany sips her water daintily, with a shy smile. She probably knows exactly what the slow dance did to me. Her skin is flushed from her face to her creamy shoulders. She smiles and tousles her long hair, and it takes my breath away.
We’re in our own two-person world. I’m sitting as close to her as the chairs allow. Our bodies are swiveled such that we’re facing each other. Although a silence has fallen between us, our bodies are communicating as we smile and touch. I tuck a stray lock behind her ear. She rests her hand on my chest, stroking the material of my tux. We stare into each other’s eyes. We sit here for...I can’t tell you how long. Our bubble bursts when a loud conversation pulls us abruptly back into the real world.
“Nicholas DeLuca,” a male voice that I recognize very well says.
Recoiling, I break eye contact with Bethany and stare at the man who fired me from my job at Brenman’s. “Antonio, I didn’t think I’d see you here.”
He grunts. “More like you were hoping you wouldn’t see me here.”
This confrontation could get awkward quickly and I certainly don’t want to cause a scene here. I stand, pulling Bethany up from her chair. “We were just leaving.”
Our table mates stare at us. Some look like they are preparing to return to the dance floor while others are collecting their belongings to depart. The party is breaking up, so I wasn’t lying to Antonio.
“I’m ready!” Bethany exclaims, reaching under her chair to collect her purse. She grabs my hand, waves at our table mates, and strides off with me towards the exit at the other side of the ballroom, all while ignoring Antonio.
When we’re away from my former boss, I blow out a breath and say, “Thanks for the save.” Bethany nods, concern still lighting her eyes. “We can dance some more if you'd like,” I add so she knows I’m willing to stay despite the horrible man’s presence.
Bethany pauses. “I’m beat. Do you mind if we leave?”
“No, I’ll text the limo driver. He’ll let me know when he is out front.”
Thankfully, Bethany doesn’t mention my exchange with my old boss. We stand, exchanging small talk with those around us. Nina comes over for one last breathy hug and, of course, air kisses. I tolerate her while Bethany gives her the stink eye, making me chuckle. When my phone jingles, Bethany and I leave the ballroom. We ride the elevator in silence, then catch the limo.
As we settle into the plush seats of the limo, I pull Bethany closer to me so she can share my body heat.
“I don’t want you to get cold.”
She giggles, snuggling even closer to my body as I wrap my arm around her shoulder. Her softness against my hardness. A small sigh escapes her lips.
“I had a lovely evening, Nick.”
Squeezing her arm, I smile my reply, “Likewise.”
When the limo clears the city, the landscape turns from the big city into familiar neighborhoods as we approach Bethany’s condo.
“Who is Antonio? And what did the press mean when they asked if you’re still working at Brenman’s? Aren’t you returning to New Orleans after our cooking class is done?”
I haven’t shared the full details of my departure from Brenman’s with many people, but I owe Bethany the complete truth.
“Technically, I was fired. Antonio is the man who fired me.”
Her eyes look big as saucers at my blunt words.
“I know that sounds bad, but they released me without cause, so I’m settling with the restaurant out of court.”
Bethany sits up straight with concern written on her face. “What happened?”
I tell her the whole story. “The head waiter, Francois, and I never really got along. He was a bully and treated the rest of the wait staff badly. One of our waitresses, Gabrielle, is a single mom who confided in several of us that she was having trouble finding and keeping a reliable babysitter when she had to work late-night shifts.”
I swivel to fully face my date, looking into her eyes as I continue with the story. “She arrived about 15 minutes late one night. Francois yelled at her in front of the entire staff, making her cry. He fired her on the spot. She was mortified at what had just happened to her. I stepped in and pointed out that this was the first time Gabrielle had been late, and I insisted that she be given a second chance.”
Bethany puts her hand on my forearm. The cramped space inside the limo shrinks down to her gentle touch and the understanding in her eyes. She gestures with a nod of her chin for me to continue.
“My intervention was like throwing gasoline on a flame. Francois proceeded to let me know that I was not in charge of his wait staff and to keep my nose out of it. Things escalated and we both said harsh words. I didn’t handle the situation well. I should have insisted that Francois and I have a private conversation away from the staff. Antonio Brenman, the owner, heard about the incident and let Francois and me go, terminating both of our contracts.”
I expel a frustrated puff of air, remembering how Antonio called me into his office and canned me. “My legal counsel reviewed my contract and pointed out to Mr. Brenman that the contract did, in fact, allow me to intervene if there were staff issues. Antonio reluctantly decided to settle the issue out of court. He didn’t want a messy legal fight that he would lose, to be played out in public.”
Bethany smiles and it touches my heart. The fierce emotion of the next words coming out of her mouth already showing on her face. “I’m proud of you, Nick. It took a lot of fortitude to stand up for Gabrielle, to do the right thing rather than turn a blind eye. Sounds like Francois has no sympathy for working moms.”
“Or anyone else, for that matter. He has a reputation of being one of the most difficult head waiters to work for. I should have corrected that situation the minute I became head chef. I should have talked to Antonio and convinced him to replace Francois. Instead, I looked the other way and ignored how he treated everyone.” I shake my head sadly. “But it was the last straw when he fired Gabrielle. She was conscientious, hardworking, and one of our best waitresses. Francois didn’t take any of that into account.”
Bethany nods. “At least you can put the incident in the past, learn from it, and move on.”
I wince. “Not quite yet. Francois may sue me for getting him fired. Our attorneys are bantering back and forth. I don’t want to settle with the man based on principle. But my legal team wants me to, so I can put this behind me.”
“I’m so sorry, Nick,” she squeezes my arm making my heart skip a beat or two.
Emotion clogs my throat at her support. I can only shrug as my reply. Paying Francois goes against everything I stand for, but at the same time it would put the incident behind me.
“So, what’s next for Chef DeLuca? Do you want to work for another restaurant?” Bethany’s abrupt change of subject and enthusiasm makes me smile.
“I’m done working for others. Famed chef Henri Armor and I are starting a new restaurant in Cold Spring. We’ve already leased the space and are starting renovations.”
Bethany claps her hands with excitement on her face. “Cold Spring is only a couple hours away! So, this date might not be one and done?”
Her hopeful expression makes me want to reach over, pull her back into my arms and kiss her. Instead, I stroke her soft cheek. “Not if I can help it. We’ll be in the same state, a short train ride away. Surely we can figure out this long-distance dating thing.”
The car stops as the limo driver announces that we have arrived at Bethany’s condo. I hop out and escort her to the front door where I give her a long passionate kiss. Not tentative, not gentle. I’m intent on showing her without words how I feel about her. Time and space shrink down to just Bethany and me. We’re in our two-person bubble again.
Hearing the limo idling on the street and remembering there’s a nosy limo driver looking on brings me back into the moment. I reluctantly break apart from her alluring lips, and say, “Thanks for accompanying me to the ball, Cinderella.” Her sweet face is tinged pink, and I grin knowing I put the color there.
Her hand gently touches my face. She turns, unlocks her door, blows me a kiss and walks inside, leaving me missing her already.