Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
“C harlie, can you let everyone know we’re out of the special for tonight?”
Charlie gave Jeremy, the head chef, a nod. “Gonna be a lot of disappointed folks. That prime rib smelled delicious.”
“Don’t worry, killer. I saved one just for you.”
He winked, blowing her a kiss. She caught the imaginary affection, slapping it to her ass before winking back, enjoying the harmless flirting that was an age-old service industry tradition. The Jackson family did not tolerate harassment of any kind. Everyone on staff knew if they ever felt uncomfortable at work their voice would be heard and action would be taken. That being said, most of the staff at Jacks were so close they were basically a part of the family. They all loved and respected each other, but they also loved to tease and give each other a hard time.
“Hey, Charlie I just sat a single for you. Table four.”
She turned, smiling as Nikki, the hostess, walked through the kitchen door.
This afternoon she’d been excited to do nothing tonight but veg out and catch up on her favorite crime shows. Payroll had been taken care of last week and she was all caught up on the vendor’s accounts, so she’d decided to give herself a mental health evening.
She needed it, bad.
Then she’d gotten a panicked call from Nikki. Hannah—one of the servers—had dropped a tray of drinks, cutting her leg when a broken shard flew up and sliced her calf. Del had rushed her to Urgent Care for stitches leaving them down people. And right during the dinner rush. So, she’d turned her car around and rushed back to the restaurant to help.
She didn’t mind too much. She’d waitressed a bit in college. The chipper, sunny attitude people preferred from their servers she could do without, but she liked the fast pace of the work and technically she did own a fourth of this business. She better be willing to pitch in when needed or she’d be a real bitch.
According to Blain, you are.
Whatever. She didn’t care what her ex thought. He was an ass.
“Thanks, Nikki.”
“Oh, you’ll be thanking me even more once you see the fine hunk of man I gave you.” The woman fanned herself; perfectly pale pink manicured nails waving in the air. “I thought Gretchen was going to scratch my eyes out for not seating him in her section, but it was your turn.”
She refrained herself from an epic eye roll, barely. Gretchen was a sweetheart without a malicious bone in her body. The server might be sad to lose a table, but no way would she ever be so upset as to lash out at someone. That was Charlie’s MO.
“I’ll be right there.” She started past the woman. “Oh, and tell everyone we’re out of the special.”
“Already? People are going to be pissed.”
People got pissed if the ice in their water was too cold. That was why Charlie preferred to deal with numbers. Numbers didn’t complain like the world owed them a fluffy pillow for their big jerk asses.
“Give anyone who bitches a complimentary bowl of ice cream.” She hated catering to assholes, but they had to keep the customers happy if they wanted to stay in business.
“And the people who don’t complain?”
Reaching the door leading out to the dining area, she turned and smiled. “Give them cake in addition to ice cream.”
She may have to placate the jerks, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t reward the nice people. Heading out the swinging door, she quickly spun to avoid another server carrying a tray full of dirty dishes. The noise in the dining area hit her ears. Different from the kitchen where it was all shouting orders, clanking pots, and joke filled laughter being traded back and forth. Out here the din was muted. Hushed conversations broken only by the occasional loud laugh from a customer, a shriek of delight, or cry of discontent from a child.
She loved all of it.
As much of a front as she put on most days, she loved Kismet and all the people in it. Even the tourists that kept the town afloat held a special place in her heart. People may annoy the ever-living hell out of her, but it beat living like a hermit all alone in the wilderness.
She made her way to table four. The small two-top sat in the back corner of the restaurant. Quiet, private, intimate. A table where they usually sat couples, but now only held a single man, face obscured by the large menu held in front of him by two large hands. What had Nikki called him? Oh yes, a fine hunk of man . Maybe she sat him back here to prevent a riot. Or maybe she’d been trying to nudge Charlie back in the ol’ dating game.
No thank you.
She didn’t care how handsome this guy was. Men were off her personal menu for a long time. Maybe forever.
“Hello and welcome to Jacks. My name is Charlie and I’ll be your server for the evening.” The customer service smile pinching her cheeks froze as the man lowered his menu. Dark brown eyes hidden behind glasses lit up, brightening one of the handsomest, and annoying faces she’d seen far too often recently. “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”
Yes, the guy was a hunk. Handsome, sexy, a tall glass of gimme-some-of-that, but he was also the very last man on earth she wanted to see right now. She would not be thanking Nikki later. Unless the woman liked to be thanked with a hot chili powder martini.
You deserve the burning fire for this, Nikki.
Not fair. The hostess didn’t know the man sitting at her table had recently become the bane of Charlie’s existence. It wouldn’t be fair to make Nikki the punishment drink she and her brothers made each other when they pissed their siblings off.
Luc Woolf sat at the table, a smart-ass grin ticking up the corner of his mouth. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
The smooth, deep voice washed over her like silk. She would not laugh at his ridiculous attempt at humor. But damn it all, she felt the curve of her lips as a smile she couldn’t seem to stop, turned them up.
“Damn small towns.”
He chuckled. “I thought you owned a bar?”
“I do.”
“But you’re a server on the side?” He tilted his head. “There a large abolition following in Kismet I’m not aware of?”
“No. The distillery does great. So great in fact that we expanded into a restaurant. One of the servers had an emergency and needed her shift covered.”
Dark brows rose. “And the boss filled in?”
“We’re a family run establishment.” She shrugged. “It’s what you do when your family needs help. You help.”
Something passed through his eyes. Respect. She had no idea why, but it made a warm fuzzy feeling rise in her stomach. Luc seemed to understand and even applaud her actions of the evening. Stupid. She didn’t give a rat’s ass what he thought.
Then why was her heart suddenly racing?
“So,” he grabbed his menu again, breaking the moment. “What’s good here?”
“Everything. And I don’t just say that because I co-own the joint. Our chef is amazing. What do you like?”
“I’m not picky.”
He said that, but they were half an hour away from Denver. Hipster central. Trends took off like wildfire in the city and spread like the plague to the small tourists’ towns like Kismet. Currently they’d had to accommodate for everything from Paleo to gluten free patrons. She had no problem catering to a customer who had a food allergy, but she really hated the bandwagon eaters who fussed and complained because they were strictly gluten free and then ordered a piece of cheesecake with graham cracker crust.
“No allergies? No weird fad diets?”
“Do I look like I do fad diets?” He arched one eyebrow.
No, he did not. In fact, the man looked like he ate steel for breakfast and iron for dinner. A dark V-neck sweater clung tight to his chest revealing just a hint of chest hair. The sleeves were pushed up past his elbows, revealing tightly muscled forearms. Damn, had she ever found forearms sexy before? She did tonight.
“A meat and potatoes kind of guy?” Her mouth felt too dry. She swallowed, trying for the life of her to find some saliva. “Our steak is amazing, but if you prefer fish, we have a great salmon with dill sauce.”
He held the menu in his fingers, but his gaze focused on her. “It all sounds amazing.”
Her breath caught in her throat, brain blanking. How did this guy render her speechless with just a look? It wasn’t fair. No one should be that sexy.
“Um, yeah. It is.” Clever Charlie. “What can I bring you?”
He placed the menu at the edge of the table, eyes never leaving hers. “You pick.”
“What?”
“You own the place. You know what’s best. You pick something for me.”
Shaking herself out of whatever weird fog she’d been in, she laughed. “You want me to pick your meal.” He nodded. Licking her lips, she placed her hand on the table and leaned down. “How do you know I won’t poison you?”
He wasn’t exactly her favorite person, and she’d made no bones about it. He leaned toward her until they were inches apart. She could smell the sharp mint of his breath, feel its warmth on her lips and cheeks. Her blood began to heat, heart racing in her chest. This was ridiculous! She should not react this way to a man who’d done nothing but annoy the crap out of her since the moment she ran into him.
“You do need me to sign off on your anger management course. If I suddenly die after eating at an establishment you own it might look pretty sketchy to the judge,” he said the words in a teasing tone, the dimple in his cheek catching her eye at his wide grin.
Laughter bubbled out of her. “True. Plus, it’d be a shame to poison all that sexy.”
The moment the words left her mouth she wanted to shove them back in.
Surprise lifted his brow. “You think I’m sexy?”
Embarrassment flooded her, so she did what she always did when she felt insecure. She pushed away from the table, crossing her arms over her chest, and brought out her trademark sarcasm. “Don’t fish for compliments. You own a damn mirror.”
He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “You’re not so bad yourself, Charlie.”
She rolled her eyes. The compliment did not flatter her. It. Did. Not. It wasn’t even a compliment. Not really. She would in no way go home tonight and dissect it until she’d deemed it code for “you’re a smoking hot ten I’d like to take to bed and make scream all night long.”
Nope. Not at all.
“Whatever. I’ll go place your order. You want anything to drink?”
He motioned to the half-filled glass in front of him. “I’m good with water. I have a shift at the hospital in a few hours.”
“Got roped into a night shift?” Thankfully as the money manager for Jacks she picked her own hours and didn’t have to stay late like her brothers often did. She wasn’t a morning person, but past eleven she had a hard time staying awake.
Luc nodded. “New guy—”
“Gets the worst shifts,” she finished for him with a chuckle. “Here too. I’ll go put your food in.”
Turning, she headed back to the kitchen, stopping at the computer just outside to punch in Luc’s meal. She paused, looking over the options on the screen. Indecision held her immobile as she contemplated being cheeky and giving him the worst thing on the menu. Hard to do because everything they served was delicious, but she knew there was one item that put everything else to shame.
“Am I really doing this?” she muttered to herself as her fingers took on a life of their own and punched in the order. “I’m a sucker.”
She grumbled to herself as she poked her head into the kitchen to call out.
“Hey, Jeremy. Order up.”
The cook glanced at the computerized screen above his head, noting the meal she’d just entered into the system and frowned. “But we don’t have any—”
“Use mine.”
His eyes widened. “You sure?”
“Yes.”
The chef let out a low whistle. “Must be some hunk.”
“Shut up and make it, funny man.”
Jeremy chuckled, following her orders.
After one last mental kick to herself for being a sap, she checked on her other tables. The dinner rush was dying down. By the time Luc’s order was up, he was the only table she had left. She grabbed the warm plate, carrying it through the mostly empty restaurant to his table in the back.
“Here you go. The special of the night. Prime rib with roasted red potatoes and grilled asparagus.”
Her mouth watered at the dinner intended for her. She still had no idea why she gave it up for Luc. Was she trying to impress him? Bribe him? Maybe she was just…ugh…being nice.
He leaned over the steaming plate, inhaling deeply. “Damn. This smells amazing.”
It did. Her stomach cramped, calling her ten different kinds of stupid for giving up the pure heaven that was Jeremy’s prime rib.
“Enjoy your meal.” If she stuck around any longer, she was going to cry over all that delicious food that should have been hers.
“Wait,” he said as she turned to go. “Can you take a minute?”
He motioned to the chair across from him. She glanced around the restaurant. Things were slow. People had migrated to the bar or gone home. Her tables were all empty except for Luc. Still, she hesitated.
“I’ll share.”
That sealed it. Grabbing the chair, she pulled it out and happily sunk into it. After years working behind a desk with numbers, she’d forgotten how taxing being on your feet all night could be. She mentally made a note to give all the servers a hefty Christmas bonus this year. They deserved it.
Luc cut a piece of the meat—brown on the outside, a tender pink on the inside—and dipped it in the cup of au jus. He lifted the fork toward her. She leaned forward, opening her mouth as he slid the meat inside. She closed her lips around the silver metal, moaning in delight as rich, tangy flavors exploded on her tongue.
“Holy shit! Jeremy outdid himself tonight. That is amazing.”
Luc said nothing. He simply stared at her as he cut another piece, dipping it in the sauce and bringing it to his own mouth. She couldn’t stop her eyes from focusing on his full lips as he placed the bite on his tongue, closing his mouth around the meat and sliding the fork out. His strong jaw moving sensually as he chewed. His Adams apple bobbed slightly when he swallowed.
“Delicious.”
Holy freakin’ hell was the restaurant on fire? Either that or she was going through very early menopause because Charlie was experiencing some serious hot flashes.
She cleared her throat, wishing she could clear some of the tension running through her body. “So, how do you like Kismet?”
“It’s great.”
He cut another bite, offering it to her, but she shook her head. As hungry as she was and as amazing as the prime rib was, she didn’t want Luc feeding her again. It felt too…intimate.
“I’ve never lived in a small town. It’s different, but I like it.”
“Where are you from?”
He ate the bit she refused, chewing, and swallowing before answering. “Las Vegas.”
About as far from small town as one could get. “What made you move out here?”
He paused in his meal, a strange tension taking over his body. Not the one she’d felt earlier. This one didn’t seem pleasant. Not judging by the harsh clench of his jaw.
“My…dad lives out here.”
“In Kismet?”
He stayed silent and for a moment she didn’t think he was going to answer, but then he spoke.
“No. Denver.”
“So close by then. Do you see him often?”
He pushed away from his food, glancing out the window, but she didn’t think he was watching the people on the street passing by. The look in his dark eyes said he was miles away and not in a happy way. Feeling like she’d stepped in a proverbial pile of cow pie, she rose from the table.
“Um, I should get back to work.”
As she turned to leave, his hand shot out, grasping her wrist in a gentle hold. She glanced over to see him staring at her, conflicting emotions passing through his eyes.
“Charlie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…me and my dad…it’s complicated.”
She knew all about complicated father issues. Try being the only girl in a family of boys. She should have been daddy’s princess, but Lawrence Jackson didn’t believe in princesses or fairy tales. She’d loved her father, but she’d never felt like he’d ever loved her. Logically she knew he loved her, but she never saw herself as…worthy enough to be called his daughter.
The man had been hard to please. And then he’d died.
“It’s fine.”
He chuckled. “I have a mother and two sisters. I know that’s woman’s code for you’re pissed as hell but want to make me suffer for it.”
The corner of her mouth ticked up. “Seriously, Luc. Don’t worry about it. I do have to get back to work though.”
“Okay. I’ll see you around?”
She laughed. “It’s Kismet. Of course you will.”
He grinned and she would swear on her life she felt his thumb stroke her wrist before he let go. Whether she imagined the affection or not, what she didn’t imagine was the thirty percent tip he left her at the end of the night. Luc Woolf might annoy the crap out of her, but the man also made her body burn and her heart pinch, just a little.
Oh hell, she was in trouble.