Chapter 11
Dell passed into the kitchen, where prep was in even fuller swing. Pots were boiling, meats being seasoned and basted, vegetables
chopped. She couldn’t wait to take a bite of something. To feel the warmth of food on her tongue, the pinch of citrus, the
crunch of something crispy and fried. It might not fix her death problem, but it would at least make her feel better.
Cole was on her heels by the time she reached the dining room. It bubbled with chatter, clinking dishware, the occasional
sound of a cork being popped at the bar. Jason stood at the host’s station, and Dell had an urge to run to him and give him
an update, but she couldn’t very well do that without a body.
“See any candidates?” she asked Cole as she scanned the room.
“I can’t believe I am authorizing this . . .” Cole muttered, and helped her look.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick, as requested. I just want to sneak into the kitchen and shove some dinner in my mouth and maybe
some cake. A bottle of wine doesn’t sound too bad either.”
Dell moved her eyes over all her guests: couples, friends, a few families, one large group in the corner with gift bags piling their table.
Someone dining alone would be the safest bet, so there’d be no need to explain their absence.
Remembering the intoxication rule, she also needed someone a few drinks deep to smooth the transition.
“Oh! Look at her,” Dell said, and pointed to a woman sitting at the bar. She was about Dell’s age with shoulder-length brunette
hair and rosy cheeks. She wore a tailored black dress that hugged her chest and showed off the sparkling jewel hanging from
the elegant chain around her neck. Based on the forced yet bored expression on her face and the way she was glancing at her
phone while the man sitting next to her yammered on, their date was not going well.
“She’s on a bad date; she needs saving anyway,” Dell said, and began to approach.
“How can you tell?” Cole asked.
“Look how bored she is. She has checked her phone twice in the past thirty seconds, and she looks like she wants to poke his
eyes out with the olive stick in her drink. I’ll be doing her a favor by borrowing her body for a few minutes,” Dell said.
“And Riley, our bartender, makes strong drinks, so she’s a prime candidate.”
As if on cue, the woman pinched the speared olives out of her martini, ate one, and then downed the rest of her drink in one
gulp.
“All right, but please be careful,” Cole said with a note of worry.
“Promise.” She smiled at him and hurried over to the woman’s barstool. Up close, Dell could hear the man yammering. The boredom
pulsing off the woman was almost as pungent as her dark floral perfume.
“We’re eventually heading for an IPO, but the market isn’t ready yet. Our tech is so disruptive, no one has seen anything like it before,” the man said, and Dell instantly categorized him as a pretentious tech bro.
The woman agreed based on the disinterested mm-hmm she murmured before lifting her hand to signal Riley behind the bar. “Another, please?”
“Belay that order, Riley,” Dell muttered, and moved in closer. The woman sat halfway turned toward the bar, making it simple
enough for Dell to more or less sit on her lap. When she passed into her, Dell immediately felt the strain of surprise.
“God, this date is so bad, it’s making me physically ill,” a smoky voice said inside Dell’s head. “I am never letting Kendra set me up again. I wish I could just disappear without him noticing.”
“As you wish,” Dell muttered internally, and tried to take a little more control. The woman’s resistance easily melted away. At the same
time, Dell felt her head begin to swim with alcohol. Not drunkenly, but more like pleasantly floating in a pool. Going for
broke, Dell attempted to speak out loud.
“Will you please excuse me?” she said, cutting into whatever ego-stroking nonsense the tech bro was blathering.
By the time he realized she’d interrupted him, Dell was already halfway off her barstool.
“Did it work?” Cole cautiously asked from beside her.
Dell took a step and quickly realized she hadn’t accounted for the height of the woman’s spiked heels or her curve-hugging
dress being as tight as a straitjacket. She found her footing as best she could and felt no resistance.
“Yes,” she quietly confirmed to Cole, and began walking away. “She was desperate to get away, and her date is so self-absorbed, he probably won’t even notice if she doesn’t come back.”
Cole glanced at the man, who’d already pulled out his phone to occupy himself. “You are probably right on that front.”
“There’s nothing less attractive than a man talking about himself too much on a date,” Dell said. “Well, maybe when he orders
dinner for me. That’s unforgivable.”
“I would never order for you,” Cole was quick to say.
Dell turned to look at him and saw his embarrassed smile backlit by the elegant dining room.
“I—I mean, hypothetically. If we were on a date,” he stammered. “I know food is your area of expertise, so I wouldn’t want
to overstep. Plus, it’s just rude.”
Dell let a smile slowly spread across her face. “Well, hypothetically, I appreciate it.”
They stared at each other, Dell gazing at him through her host’s eyes, and wondering what a real date with him would be like.
“Hypothetically, if we were on a date, where you would take me?” Dell asked.
Cole considered with a purse of his lips, concentrating like he really wanted to get the answer right. “A baseball game.”
Dell arched a playful eyebrow at him. “You think I like sports?”
“I think you like experiences, and a lively, outdoor space full of people—and plenty of food options—would make for an enjoyable
time. Plus, those seats are really close together, so it would be a chance to talk and get to know each other.”
With heart-fluttering surprise, Dell stopped walking and gaped at him. “I love baseball. For those reasons. My brothers are
actually season ticket holders. Did you look that up in my file or something?”
Cole sweetly, and a bit proudly, smiled at her. “No. I am just observant.”
She couldn’t help smiling back at him. She tilted her head toward the kitchen in signal they needed to keep walking. “Okay,
well, based on what I’ve learned about you, I’d take you someplace quiet and uncrowded, like maybe to a museum or on a picnic. Or maybe one of those art and wine classes
where we get buzzed and try our hand at being Bob Ross.”
The laugh that warmly bubbled from Cole sent Dell’s heart leaping.
“Did I get it right?” she asked.
“I would enjoy any of those things, yes. And I appreciate you catering to my introvert tendencies. Hypothetically.”
“Well, I appreciate you willingly exposing yourself to a loud, public space for my benefit. Hypothetically.” She paused at
the kitchen door with one hand on it. “Speaking of, it’s going to be chaos in here. I’m going to grab a coat so I don’t stand
out, swipe some food, and then head for the freezer.”
“The freezer?”
“Yes, it’s where I stress eat when I need to chill out.”
“Please tell me you heard what you just said.”
“Pun intended, yes. Let’s go.” Dell pushed open the swinging door, and they crossed from the dim buzz of the dining room into
the kitchen’s clamor. Luckily, things were in full enough swing no one noticed the tipsy ghost-guest tiptoeing into their
turf. She grabbed a spare chef’s coat hanging from the wall to at least disguise her dress, and then headed for the pass—the
last stop where plated dishes waited for inspection before being sent to the dining room.
“What’s on the menu?” Cole asked as he followed behind her.
Her mouth had already begun to water. “The short rib is a personal favorite,” she said, and discreetly glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone had picked up on her presence.
She was in the clear.
“Sorry, table thirteen,” she muttered, and swiped the gorgeously plated meal: braised short ribs on a pillow of gouda mashed
potatoes with carrots and a sprig of thyme. She stole a fork from the tasting drawer and skipped around to a refrigerator
door, where bottles of white wine were chilling. “I’d kill for a merlot, but I don’t think I can make it in and out of the
wine cellar undetected, so this will have to do.” She shoved the opened bottle of sauvignon blanc under her elbow and balanced
the plate on her other hand.
With another glance over her shoulder, she nodded at the walk-in freezer’s door beside the fridge. “In here,” she whispered
to Cole.
No one had noticed them—which made Dell wonder if she needed to step up her security. But at the moment, it was a good thing.
All her chefs and servers were heads down getting the job done, none the wiser a thief was in their midst, filching dinner
and booze.
Once she and Cole entered the freezer, she set her dinner on a shelf and yanked the heavy door shut to seal them inside.
“What if someone comes in here for an ingredient?” Cole asked, and took a quick scan of the shelves stacked with all manner
of containers. Prepped purees, sauces, stocks. Ice cream, cake filling. Sasha’s pistachio gelato.
“Then I turn around and pretend I’m looking for one too,” Dell said through a mouthful of short ribs. “God, this is so good. It’s only been a day, and I already miss food so much.” She hummed a happy sound, lost in the pleasure
of eating.
Cole cleared his throat, and Dell opened her eyes to see him hungrily watching her. From the heat in his eyes, she could tell he was staring at her and not longing for the food.
Her next swallow thickly slid down her throat. She uncorked the wine and took a swig to help wash it down. It was the best
wine she had ever tasted. Sure, it was a proprietary blend hand-selected from her favorite winery in Napa, but the tart pinch
and smooth finish of peach had never hit her tongue so beautifully.
“Good year?” Cole asked, nodding at the wine bottle and still watching her.
She felt his eyes outlining the curve of her neck as she swallowed. If the freezer hadn’t been so cold, she might have started
to sweat.