6. Chapter 5
Chapter 5
Kaitlyn
After spending a quiet Saturday evening, post double shift, snuggled in my silk pajamas, sipping on wine on my sofa, watching reruns of Friends , I’m calm and energized, ready to work the brunch service.
It’s rare I allow people, especially men, to get under my skin, but I wasn’t able to prevent it last night. I almost didn’t take Elliot up on the offer to call it quits early because admitting defeat is a no-no in my soul, but I needed it. The small amount of extra time off it allowed me was just enough to get my mind back where it needs to be.
Morning hot showers have become my second cup of coffee. They tend to soothe the savage in me just as much as the coffee does. I put on my freshly washed uniform and wedge my slightly swollen feet into my black dress tennis shoes to meet my yellow chariot to get me to work on time.
I like to show up a little early because often the chef uses me as a guinea pig for new pastry ideas, and today is no exception. If dying of decadence is a thing, consider me a goner. As I’m still in a delicious coma, I glance over today’s reservations list. We have a few regulars on the list that I can’t wait to see.
While I’m completing the final preparations for opening in our private serving station, the host comes back to get me. “Hey, Kait, there is a guest who’s asking for you by name. Would you be able to pop out?”
“Sure thing. I’ll be right there.”
I check the time on my phone, and it’s a little too early for anyone I can think of to be popping in to say hello. Hmm.
I leave my little section and step around the corner toward the dining room, and I stop in my tracks when my eyes meet my surprise guest. I even think my shoes squeak on the floor like I’m in a cartoon.
Mr. Tweed Suit is standing there amongst the empty tables, but this time, he isn’t dressed to the nines. Instead, he’s wearing dark-colored jeans with a simple button-down under a deep gray peacoat. He still looks expensive and put together, but exceedingly more approachable.
“We aren’t open yet. Can I help you?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“I’m only a tad early. I do have a reservation for one. I’d like to sit in your section, if that’s all right with you.”
“What kind of game are you playing? First you embarrassed me last night and now I feel like you’re stalking me.”
The man puts his hands up. “I think that’s overstating things. Firstly, I’d like to apologize to you, and your boss if needed, for my hasty choice last evening. I would have said it to you then, but you left so quickly.”
“I think you know why I did. It was totally inappropriate behavior from someone I know, let alone a patron and complete stranger.”
“I agree. As for the stranger part, I’d like to remedy that right now. My name is Griffin Shaw,” he says in a softer tone than any conversation we had last night. “What’s your last name, Kaitlyn?”
I hesitate. I don’t know if I even want him to know any more about me than he already does. Griffin’s hand slowly reaches out toward me. His eyes echo his words and seemingly remorseful sentiment. The daughter my parents raised steps forward, reaching out to take his hand. “Logan. My name is Kaitlyn Logan.”
His touch is strong and warm. His hand is large and nearly engulfs mine completely.
“It’s nice to meet you properly, Kaitlyn Logan.”
“You as well, Mr. Shaw.” Our hands slowly slip away from one another’s and I fold mine together in front of my body. “Since you’re already here, I can seat you early and get you something to drink. The kitchen is nearly ready for service.”
“Which section is yours? And please, call me Griffin.”
I hear his request, but there’s something about the instant familiarity that doesn’t sit quite right. “You can have the table by the window up front. It’s the best in the building, and I’ll get you some coffee? Tea? Juice?”
“Both would be nice. English Breakfast if you have it.”
“Of course. I’ll just be a minute.”
He offers me a genuine smile, very different from what I got last night, before I walk away. I make it back to the server’s station and Katarina is standing there with her arms crossed across her chest with a grin on her face. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. I’m trying to decide if he was hotter in that brown tweed number or the jeans he’s got on today. Maybe I’ll ask him to take that wool coat off so I can look at his ass before I decide.”
“Kat!” I whisper, scolding her but still wearing a grin. “What should I do about this?”
“What do you mean? I’m confused as to why you’re acting like this is a bad thing.”
“You don’t think this is odd?” I reach above my head to a shelf where the box of teabags is stored and pull out the type he asked for.
“What exactly could be odd about it? He saw you last night. You had some words, a bit of interaction that was memorable, to say the least, and now he’s back. He’s into you, babe.”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “I think he just feels bad for overstepping.”
“Kaitlyn,” she says, taking my shoulders in her hands. “Men don’t do anything without some kind of motive involved. He wouldn’t just come here to apologize unless he wanted to see you again, and I’ve decided…definitely the jeans.”
I give her my best exasperated look, while I’m nearly ready to burst out laughing, before I turn and put my game face on. Kat is right. The overconfidence of last night seems to have faded into what I would say is a bit of nervous energy. He’s fussing with the napkin roll to his left while staring out the window at the city coming alive before his eyes.
“Here’s your juice and we did have English Breakfast. If you want more than one cup, we’ll be able to do that.”
He turns away from what feels like deep thoughts being sent out that same window toward my voice. “I do appreciate the extra look. I can tell you now, I will need more than one cup.”
Mr. Shaw’s eyes shimmer with the light reflecting in. They aren’t the dark, dangerous, full of himself look from last night. If I didn’t know any better, this man sitting before me would be the good twin versus the evil one I met.
“Are you going to be having any food? I can bring you a menu.”
“I’ll have something in a bit, thank you, and honestly, forget the menu. Just bring me whatever it is here that’s your favorite.” He takes a gentle sip of his tea. “This is excellent. Not many Americans know how to make a nice cup.”
“My brother-in-law is English. I was all but threatened into learning how to do it properly,” I joke.
“Is he? Where is he from?” He leans back in his chair and rests his arm casually along the windowsill.
“He’s from West London, but he lives here in the States now, just outside of Boston.”
“Small world. We were nearly neighbors. My family home is in Chelsea.”
“Wow. Yeah, small world. I’ve never been to either.” I shrug.
“Don’t you like to travel?” he asks.
“It’s not been a priority, to be honest, you know the old story…time and money.”
“Kait,” a voice calls me from the host stand.
“I’m sorry. I have to go for now. Don’t worry though, I’ll place your order. Are you sure you don’t want to look at the menu?”
He takes a long pause while he slowly twists the cup between his fingers. “I trust you. I already have everything I want right here.” This man looks up into my eyes, punctuating every word of the last sentence, and I feel it deep in my chest.
“Okay.” I lick my lips. “Excuse me.” I scurry off to the host stand, answering the question our host had for me, then I head back to the kitchen to key in my favorite brunch order. I can’t explain it, but I have this odd urge to impress him with my food selection.
“Uh, hello,” Katarina says, nudging my hip with her own. “You can’t leave me hanging like this.”
“I just got back here.” I laugh. “And stop being so nosy.”
“My love life is dry, destitute, uneventful. I must live through you right now.”
“There’s hardly a love life happening right now, though, I do think he’s trying to flirt with me a little. I’m not sure how to handle it.”
“Uh, I think it’s pretty obvious. Look at him. Flirt back.”
I peek over my shoulder, viewing his frame out the window of the kitchen door. He’s still sipping his tea while casually scrolling on his phone. I stare at him for longer than I should because soon, I’m caught. He swings his eyes up and sees me watching him. A grin slowly appears on his face.
“Shit,” I whisper while Katarina quietly laughs her ass off.
It doesn’t take long for his food to hit the pass, so I carefully grab both plates and take them to his table.
“All right, I have brought you baked eggs on crusty bread with spinach, asparagus, and prosciutto, but I couldn’t let you leave without having some of Elliot’s sweet plum focaccia.”
“Wow,” he says with wide eyes. “And here I was expecting something simple like pancakes.”
“Well, I’m definitely not a simple girl when it comes to food. I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that the next bite of food you take is going to change your life. I hope you’re ready for that.”
“I’m already ready for anything,” he says, and I watch as he takes his first bite of the eggs and bread. “My God,” he says a little under his breath after he swallows.
“I told you. I have great taste.”
“Then why don’t you prove that to me again over dinner tonight?”
“I’m sorry? Did you just ask me out?”
“Has it been so long, you don’t recognize a gentleman wanting to spend time with you?” The cloth of his napkin dabs both corners of his mouth before resting carefully back in his lap.
“Gentleman. Hmmm. Is that what you are? I’m still not sure.”
I didn’t intend to, but I fear I’ve hurt his feelings. His shoulders sink away from his proper straight back, his eyes lower from my face to the delicious food in front of him, and his pristinely shined shoes shuffle audibly beneath the table.
“I’ve done what I know to do to apologize for my boorish behavior last night. I thought if we could share a meal, I could show you honestly who my mother raised me to be.”
I don’t know how he managed it, but I feel bad for giving him such a hard time today, even though he’s really not seen me fully angry. “I have to work brunch service until three. If you’re willing to wait for me, I will agree to an early dinner here in the restaurant.”
His shoulders regain their life, along with his eyes as they trail up my body to finally find my face. “I think that would be lovely. Your exquisite tea and the occasional smile will tide me over until your shift ends.”
Griffin
I believe if you’d have told me last week that I’d be sitting in a small restaurant for most of my Sunday in New York City, waiting for a woman to get off of work so I could have dinner with her in the same restaurant I’d been waiting in all day, I’d have laughed my arse off. Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid the paparazzi this morning, so I’m being left alone for the moment. That’s a plus.
And yet, here I am, sipping my third cup of tea and replying to emails on my phone, all the while catching glimpses here and there of her while she works. I needed to see her again, to let her know I’m not as much of a shit as I’d appeared to be last night.
While Katilyn is taking the order at a table just in front of mine, she glances over her shoulder at me with a smile. Just as I try to fully enjoy it, my phone vibrates in my hand.
It’s a text from Tobias.
Tobias: Should I be concerned you’re still out?
Me: Since when do you keep tabs on me?
Tobias: Since you seemingly developed stalker tendencies over this girl
Me: Point one, I’m not a stalker. Point two, I’m doing this to apologize to her…
Tobias: I can hear the dead air as you're trying to come up with other crap excuses or reasons you’re wherever you are
Me: Sod off
Tobias: Careful, my friend. There comes that temper again.
Me: When you’re trying to take the piss out of me, I’m going to let you have it
“Hi.”
Her sweet voice pulls me away from having to tell Tobias he may have a point…or two. “Hello.”
“As soon as I bring this table’s food out, I’m off the clock, and Kat is going to cover the entire floor since we’re winding down.”
“Kat. Is that the name of your partner in crime? I wondered when I’d find out.”
She smiles. “It’s short for Katarina. Partner in crime, eh? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I broke up a bro chat with yours.” Kaitlyn takes two victory steps back. “Do you want anything right away?”
Outed.
“Just your company.”
She tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear and I can’t help but notice, even her ears are adorable. Who is this woman and where did she come from?
“You’ll have that soon enough. I’ll be right back.”
“I look forward to it.”
She leaves me to myself again, and this time, I slide my phone into my pocket. I refuse to have any distractions once I have her undivided attention.
“You,” I hear from my right side and look up to see Katarina standing with her finger pointed my way. “She’s a wonderful human. You better be nice or I’ll go Brooklyn on you.”
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I have nothing but gentlemanly intentions.”
“Good, because I may or may not know people who can make someone disappear.” She uses two fingers to point at her eyes then at me, as if to say I’m watching you.
I get the sense I’d better not test that theory.
Several minutes pass. She said she’d be back, however, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ve been stood up. Would she do that to teach me a lesson? I’d deserve it, to be sure. I don’t see her as the type. Could I have been completely wrong?
I tug at the watch around my wrist as I study the weekend warriors wandering about the city. As I’m about to check the time again, I sense I’m being watched. I look out into the nearly empty restaurant to see Kaitlyn coming toward me. The stray hairs that had fallen from her pulled back look have been set free. Her rich blond waves fall around her shoulders. She’s changed out of the uniform I’ve seen her in the last two days to a casual T-shirt with an open, deep-gray cardigan sweater skimming over her body.
I rise to my feet to greet her properly, walking around to pull the chair out for her.
“Wow,” she says as she sits. “I didn’t expect that.”
“My mother taught me, when I was young, women are to be treated with respect.”
“She must be an amazing woman.”
“To say the least.”
I return to my chair while we stare into each other’s eyes for a brief moment before she cuts the silence with a question.
“So, you’re in New York on business?”
“I am, yes. I work in corporate real estate. I had to venture across the pond to take a few meetings and potentially close some deals.”
“Sounds so official and important.”
“It can be, yes, but other times it can be tedious and incredibly irritating, like any job, I suppose. How long have you been working here?” I ask her.
“Forever and not long enough. I started here in my last couple years of college, and then even after I graduated and got another job, I asked if I could stay.”
“You enjoy it here that much?”
“Being at Elliot’s doesn’t feel like work. It’s more like spending time with my family who’s not blood related.”
Her point of view is so foreign to me. I can’t remember a time where I really, with my heart, enjoyed what I did. “If this is your family time, what do you do when you’re not here for work?”
“I’m a case preparation attorney at Wilder, Hawkings, and Grant in Midtown. I’ve been working my way up through the ranks. I started as a paralegal.”
“You’re an attorney?” The question flies out of my mouth in a way that sounds so condescending. I don’t mean it to be, but it’s already lingering, unable to be taken back.
“You sound shocked? Sad I’m not a simple server who will fall for the whole British mogul thing you’ve got going on?”
I sigh heavily. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, nor would I ever falsely believe you were simple. I suppose I’m intrigued by the fact you’re an attorney and you’re spending your weekends working as a server.”
She adjusts in her seat a little. “I love Elliot and the entire staff here. Spending my free time with them doesn’t always feel like work, plus the extra income never hurts. New York City is a very expensive place to live and school wasn’t exactly cheap.”
“Working two jobs, especially one that can be as time consuming as law, must be exhausting. I’m impressed by you.”
She laughs. “You don’t seem like the easily impressed type.”
“You’re right. I’m not. I find it admirable to not be afraid of hard work, your dedication to your family and your seemingly very independent nature.”
“You got all that from me working here?”
“Call it a blessing and a curse. I can nail personality traits down pretty quickly. It’s a job necessity and is a skill in my negotiations.”
“Again, so proper. You remind me so much of my brother-in-law, sometimes it’s scary.”
“Maybe it’s a Brit thing?” I chuckle. “Or perhaps it’s a trait my parents instilled in me very early in life. I don’t know how to be any other way, honestly.”
“I don’t think it’s a bad thing. I think there has been an overwhelmingly large number of people nowadays who don’t know how to speak with people to convey exactly what they mean, need, or want. Too many things get lost in the shuffle or in translation. Being clear and proper is a nice change in pace for a conversation, so thank you.”
“Does that mean I’m forgiven for behaving like an ape last night?”
A small smile radiates across her face. “Ape, huh? Well, I think a nice dinner with all the fixings just might get you off my shit list…at least for now.”
I want to burst out laughing at her sheer honesty, but decide to wear my cards closer to the vest. “I’ll take it for now.”
We eat slowly and fall into easy conversation. I take a business tactic that I use often, which is to keep my opponent, or in this case my interest, talking. I want to know anything and everything I can about her.
She tells me about her family. I learn more about her sister and this brother-in-law she keeps comparing me to. It’s unbelievable I haven’t run into him ever. Our paths have seemed to be mere steps off of each other for years.
I can tell she worships her father. I wish I could say I felt the same or could even relate. It hit me in my core when she began to talk about her mother and her eventual death. A hood veiled over her eyes, even with the small details she provided. I can tell that many things she does are because of and for her memory. I can honestly say I don’t think I’d be as adjusted if our roles were reversed.
“Remember when I said you impressed me? That continues to be the case with every minute we converse.”
“You must not get out much, because I promise, I’m not that impressive.” She sips her water then takes another bite of food. “Tell me about your family. Do you have any siblings?”
Joseph’s face pops clearly into my brain. He’s never gone from it entirely, but sometimes other things take my focus until his memory is thrust back to the forefront.
“I had an older brother, Joseph, but he passed away a few years ago.”
Her hand lays on her chest. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right.” I lay my silverware down and clutch my mug of tea. “He was my only sibling, so now… it’s just me.”
“That must have been so hard for your family. I’m so close with my sister, I can’t imagine…it’s also ironic, that’s my nephew’s name. Small world.”
“Indeed, and growing smaller by the day.”
Her uncanny sense of too much seems to kick in, and she changes the subject completely once more. Kaitlyn’s radar for empathy is both alarming and well needed. “Was that a business meeting you were in last night? It felt, well, awkward when I walked up. I was hoping they weren’t all friends.”
I chuckle. “Just one of them. Tobias was to my right. He and I have been mates for quite a while. The other two gentlemen were on the receiving end of a deal they didn’t want to make, but in the end, they realized was necessary.”
“Tobias. I really like that name, and I made a promise to my friend, Katarina, I’d try to snag a business card from him. Not because she’s looking for any type of corporate real estate but because she thinks he’s hot. Do you think you can help me out in that department?”
I laugh. “Tobias will be thrilled to know he’s enticing the ladies, and of course.” I reach into my pocket, pulling out my wallet, retrieving a business card with Tobias’s name on it and sliding it across the table. “I’ll do anything for her, in fact. She may have threatened me earlier while I was waiting for you to join me.”
“Wait… what?”
“Clue number two into the type of person you are. Your friends are willing to go to jail, or connect with someone who will, to protect you. I found it both amusing and terrifying in the best of ways.”
A flushed tone radiates across Kaitlyn’s cheeks. “I’m going to be the one going to jail after I kill her.”
I slide my hand across the table to cover hers. When I do, a warmth beams through my hand into my entire body. It takes all the willpower I have to not show it, although I have the sense she can feel it too. The redness of her skin only deepens, and I can feel her pulse through the pads of my fingers.
“If you end up in jail, Kaitlyn, you won’t get dessert.”
We spend another twenty minutes savoring the sweets she recommended. The topics were less personal. We spoke of current events and her love of racing, specifically Formula One. She is a conundrum in the best way. Nothing seems to be cookie cutter about her. It’s simply fascinating.
When the table we’d taken over for nearly the entire afternoon is needed for the dinner service, Kaitlyn and I walk side by side to the street. I toy with the idea of offering to drive her home. However, me knowing where she lives and having to explain how, would all but kill the progress we’ve made. I don’t want that for her…or myself.
“Well…” I say quietly.
“Yeah. I did have a good time. I can safely say it was the best apology I’ve ever gotten.”
I smile. “I was aiming for you not to be angry anymore. I’m glad I overachieved.”
The toe of her shoe traces a crack in the sidewalk. “If you need another good meal while you’re here, you know a sure thing.”
“Yes. Indeed, I do. Maybe I could convince you and your friend to join Tobias and me once more. Would that win you favor?”
The corner of her lips turns up. “I think it would win me a years’ worth of points in the bank.”
I pull my business card from the pocket of my jacket. “Here’s my card for you. It has my mobile number and email address.” I’d like to ask for hers, but I don’t want to offer the wrong impression. Fucking hell. I don’t even know what impression I want to leave.
Kaitlyn wraps her slender digits around the paper as her yellow chariot arrives. I reach down and open the door for her. “Enjoy the rest of your night, Kaitlyn.”
With only a smile, not a goodbye, she slides her hand from my elbow to my wrist before gliding in the back seat. I watch as she disappears into the New York City traffic, feeling an emotion I can’t even describe, or want to.