Chapter 11 #2
I nod, because I have a feeling if I ask again, she’ll give me a final no.
We complete the rest of our workday in mostly silence. Romilly is swamped with dogs, thanks to her mission to raise her rating. She barely takes a break from grooming to drink water, let alone eat. I haven’t seen her eat a thing, in fact, and after five hours it’s alarming.
She sways a bit on her feet as she grooms a large Bernadoodle.
It tugs against its restraints as she shaves its underside, pulling her right along with it.
I glance around the pet salon. The floors are swept, all the dogs that needed washing are clean, dried, and have gotten their claws trimmed by yours truly.
There’s nothing left for me to do, and plenty Romilly still needs to get done.
She has four dogs waiting for her in their comfy, assigned kennels.
That’s another eight hours of work for her, at least. I don’t know how she’ll accomplish it.
But then again…I’ve doubted her before. Still, I just wish she’d eat something.
And then an idea takes hold of me.
“I’m going to step out for a moment,” I say.
She smiles brightly as if she hasn’t been on her feet all morning and afternoon. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”
If only she followed her own advice.
I make for the reception area and find Romilly’s phone face down on the desk. “Please don’t have a password,” I mutter, unlocking the screen.
Sure enough, I have access to her entire phone the moment I turn it on. Romilly, luv, you are far too trusting in humanity.
I find the number in her contacts I’m looking for and send a quick message from my own phone.
Me
What’s Romilly’s favorite food?
Addison
Um…who is this?
Me
It’s Bash
Several moments pass before I receive a response.
Addison
Sorry, I’m good now. Everything’s fine.
Her favorite food is a very specific dish at my husband’s restaurant, Rosemary Banquet.
I frown.
Me
Where is Rosemary Banquet located?
Addison sends me the address, and I’m already shrugging on my coat, halfway out the door. Thankfully, the restaurant is in Meadow Hills, so I won’t be gone long enough to raise suspicion. Hopefully.
Either way, I need Romilly to eat something. And by ordering her favorite food, she’ll be less likely to resist.
I arrive at the car park and get out of my Camaro, brushing dog hair off my scrubs.
As soon as I open the door to the restaurant, I know I’ll be returning.
This establishment looks as if it’s the type of place I’d frequent in my parents’ circle.
It’s decorated with taste—elegant white linens draped across sturdy wooden tables.
Warm lighting emanates from exquisite chandeliers, and a touch of foliage dons the table settings.
I’m definitely underdressed. Worse, actually.
I’m covered in dog hair, and I’ve never been more humiliated.
The ironic thing is, the majority of my closet is filled with quality, designer pieces.
But the one day I decide to wear scrubs to work and get myself covered in fur, I end up inside the first five star restaurant I’ve visited in some time.
Do it for Romilly, Bash.
I check my phone again. There’s another message from Addison.
Addison
I called and ordered the dish. It’s on the house and ready for you to pick up! *smiley emoji*
Me
What ever for? I can pay.
Addison
Don’t worry about it. Just make sure Romilly knows this was your idea.
I frown at the message and force my feet forward. The hostess greets me, and I ask if there’s been an order placed for Bash or Romilly.
She beams. “Yes, of course. Mrs. Whitmore called and said you’d be here. I’ll be right back.” She walks away from her podium, leaving me contemplating why on earth Addison would go to such lengths for me to pick up Romilly’s lunch.
The hostess returns with a paper bag containing a takeout box. “I hope she enjoys the meal,” she says sweetly, looking up at me through her eyelashes.
I want to laugh. Did Addison tell her specific details? Why is the hostess acting like I’m about to propose or something?
“Thank you,” I say, and race back to my car as fast as I can without appearing rude.
By the time I get back to The Paw Spa, no more than thirty minutes have passed. It’s a reasonable amount of time for a lunch break, so I doubt Romilly has caught on that I left. I can understand why so many people like small towns. Ease of access and hardly any traffic are some of the many perks.
I carry the bag straight to her station, set it down on the table, and take hold of the Australian Shepherd’s restraints that she’s working on.
“Bash, what?—”
“You need to eat,” I tell her. “Now. I’ll take the Aussie to his kennel while you do so.”
She looks at the bag on her station and then back at me. “Where did this come from?”
“I went and got you lunch.”
She blinks. “You…went all the way to Rosemary Banquet?”
“All the way? You act as if it was far.” I laugh. “But yes. Now go.”
“But Bash…I don’t understand.”
I lift the bag and place it directly in her hands, my gaze zeroing in on her.
“You need to eat. It’s been almost six hours, and you haven’t eaten a thing, and you’ve barely had any water.
You’re working yourself too hard. And before you say you need to work faster to raise your rating, taking a simple lunch break isn’t going to prevent you from doing that. ”
She’s speechless. She just stares at me with wide green eyes, her lips slightly parted like she didn’t even realize she hasn’t eaten all day. “I guess I could take a ten minute break,” she says.
“You’d better take longer than that.” Placing my hands on her shoulders, I ignore the parade that flurries through my stomach from touching her so casually, and I spin her around and gently scoot her off toward the reception area where she normally eats.
Normally, when she’s not overworking herself like a crazy person.