Chapter 5
MAGGIE
Friday comes around too soon. It’s a busy lunch shift with a tour group in, and my palms are sweaty as I drizzle the chocolate sauce over the fudge cake under Patrick’s watchful gaze.
“Lift the dish high to get the drizzle thin at the edges of the plate.” Patrick indicates what he means and I lift the dish up, pleased to see him smile as the sauce makes a zig zag pattern around the edges of the plate.
He’s the best pastry chef I’ve worked for, and even though I’m meant to help out everywhere in the kitchen, Chef lets me help Patrick as much as I can.
We’re almost at the end of the service when I hear her. You can’t not hear my mother. Her booming voice penetrates the kitchen doors and makes my hands tremble so much that I drop the dish of sauce and it clatters to the floor.
“Never mind,” says Patrick as I duck to pick up the pieces. “That’s the last one for this service anyway.”
I dump the broken pieces in the trash and peek through the round window to the restaurant.
Sure enough, there’s Mom, her brown hair perfectly coiffed with so much hairspray even a strong mountain wind couldn’t move it.
Dad stands quietly behind her, his hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his feet, admiring the vintage bike on display in the corner.
Mom’s chatting with someone at the bar, and my pulse spikes thinking it must be Arlo.
I tilt my head to see more through the window and frown when I see Davis behind the bar.
Davis is one of the prospects and he looks terrified as mom talks at him, probably telling him about all about their journey here and complaining about the traffic.
Arlo was supposed to be working so I could briefly introduce him to my parents and then keep them out of his way for the rest of the weekend.
Maybe he’s coming in later for the evening shift. Whatever it is, I need to get out there so I can control the situation.
“My parents are here.” I take my apron off and hang it up before smoothing down my hair. Chef said it was okay to leave early once my parents turned up so they could have lunch at the restaurant before the service finishes.
Dad sees me first.
“Hello love.” He pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek. We share a warm look before Mom turns around.
“What happened to your hair?”
Her look of horror has me ducking my head and smoothing down my hair. It’s flat where my chef’s hat was, but the way Mom’s looking at it, I may as well have dyed it purple.
“It’s just where the hat…”
“I’ve got spray in my bag.” She takes me by the elbow and leads me to the side of the bar near the corridor that leads to the back entrance. There’s no point resisting.
“We need to get some volume into that, MeMe. You can’t go around all day with flat hair. What will Allan think?”
Ah yes, Allan. I thought Arlo would be working the bar today, and I’d be able to introduce them before we have lunch and then keep them out of the restaurant for the next two days. But he’s frustratingly not here.
“Um, I don’t think he’s working today.”
Mom’s face falls. “You mean he’s not joining us for lunch?”
She sprays my hair and runs her fingers through it, tugging at the strands. My hair has always been a disappointment to my mother. It’s thin and mousy brown like Dad’s, not the thick almost black tresses that are Mom’s crowning glory.
“No,” I say with finality, ducking my head away from her. “He is not.”
“He’s not what?” A booming voice comes from behind me, and I turn around to find Arlo striding toward us.
He’s dressed in smart black jeans and a tight white t-shirt that hugs his muscles under his Wild Riders MC leather jacket. His hair is slicked back and his beard neatly trimmed so it frames his cheeky grin to perfection.
My mouth drops open, because he’s not dressed for work and he’s not behind the bar.
While I’m wondering what the hell he’s doing striding in looking like my hot date, he marches up to me, slides his arm around my waist, and pulls me to him.
I gasp in surprise, but before I can say anything his mouth is on mine. His lips press against mine while my wide eyes stare into his laughing ones. His tongue flicks between my teeth, and his grip on my waist tightens.
Heat surges through my body. My heart hammers against my rib cage, and a delicious feeling of longing envelops me.
My eyes flutter closed and I part my lips, letting his tongue tangle with mine.
Our hips bump together, and the heat surging through me feels so damn good.
My hand moves to his neck, and my fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Someone coughs, and I remember where we are and what we’re doing.
This is a show kiss in front of my parents, nothing to get carried away about. I pull away quickly, but Arlo won’t let me out of his grasp. He keeps his hand firmly around my waist.
My mother is speechless, and my dad looks like he wants to kill Arlo. Which is something for my mild mannered dad.
“This is, ah, Allan,” I say, pressing my fingers to my lips. They’re swollen and tingling and aching to kiss him again.
Arlo gives me a look at the name, and I dig him in the ribs.
“Hi, I’m Allan,” he says with a grin, holding his hand out to Mom.
“Allan.” Mom finally finds her voice. “So nice to meet you. I’m Debbie and this is Jim.”
Dad reluctantly shakes Arlo’s hand, his gaze darting to where Arlo’s clasping my waist, his hand inches away from my butt.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Arlo says, his charming smile already working on my mom. “Maggie’s told me so much about you.”
“She has?” Mom gives a flattered smile, unaware she’s falling under Arlo’s charm.
Dad’s observing him quietly. He’s not going to be won over by a big smile and easy charm. Arlo indicates the vintage bike that Dad was looking at.
“It’s an original Harley, one of the first off the production line.”
Dad raises an eyebrow. He’s impressed, and I relax a little. “She still go?”
“We ride her once a year for the veterans charity run on July 4th.”
They fall into step together talking bikes as Arlo leads everyone across the road to the VIP area where there’s a reserved table. It overlooks the valley below, the view stretching all the way to the next mountain range.
Mom grips my arm and drops her voice to a whisper.
“Oh MeMe, he’s divine.”
My eyes are on Arlo’s butt in the tight jeans walking in front of me.
“Yeah, he’s…”
“And those muscles…” Mom inhales sharply. “The tattoos. I bet he’s rough in bed.”
“Mom!” My cheeks instantly heat, and Mom cackles.
Arlo and Dad turn to stare at us.
“We’re just having some girl talk,” Mom says, wiggling her eyebrows at Arlo in what I assume she thinks is a sexy way but instead looks like caterpillars are dancing on her forehead.
I’m so horrified I wish the ground would swallow me up. But Arlo just laughs and winks at Mom.
“Did she tell you where I’ve got my secret tattoo?”
Mom’s mouth drops open and she turns to me, deliciously scandalized.
“She did not.”
I’ve got no idea what Arlo’s talking about, but he’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Luckily at that moment, we arrive at our table. I note Arlo’s reserved the best spot in the house.
Arlo holds the chair out for Mom, winning her over even more.
“You in town for long?” he asks once we’re seated.
“Just for the weekend.”
“Perfect. What do you want us to show you while you’re here?”
I nudge Arlo under the table, because he’s not showing them anything. “What a shame you have to work, honey.”
He fixes his gaze on me. “I don’t. I got the weekend off.”
“That’s so good of you,” Mom gushes, while I stare daggers at him. He keeps looking straight ahead, talking to Mom about the places of interest they might want to visit.
“I didn’t know you had the weekend off,” I say tightly.
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss spending the weekend with your parents.”
“That’s so sweet of you,” Mom gushes, while I kick him under the table.
He was supposed to have a quick meeting with them. Let them know he existed before spending the weekend conveniently working. But for some reason Arlo wants to taunt me. The problem is, I’m kind of enjoying having him around.