1
The bell over the door to Demi’s Corner Café tinkled. Elisa turned away from the chalkboard menu she was drawing to announce that the café was closed for wedding prep, and for two weeks afterward, for Demi and Eric’s honeymoon.
The words stuck in her mouth as Nate Murphy walked in, following Fi Garrett. He was acting as Fi’s bodyguard today. She coughed to get her voice working. “Hey.”
Best she could manage. Nate Murphy fried her brain, even when he was just quietly standing there doing nothing in particular.
In her own defense, he was larger than life. Six foot two, at least. Big and lean, taut and built. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, black wind-blown hair grown out long from some long-forgotten haircut. Dark, intense eyes that tracked everything and tucked away all the unconscious info she let drop. He missed nothing.
He had sexy beard stubble on his strong jaw. A hooked nose with a bump on it. He didn’t smile often, but when he did, his sensual mouth stretched into a blinding grin, and sexy lines carved deep into his cheeks. And that deep voice, oh God. Listening to him was like being petted by luscious, silken fur. She wished he’d say something. Except that she’d stammer if she tried to answer. Or, God forbid, giggle.
“Hey, Elisa!” Fi said with a smile as she came over to admire her chalkboard handiwork. “Wow. Is that the menu for the wedding feast?”
“Sure is,” Elisa said. “We decided to live dangerously.”
Fi made an appreciative sound as she studied the chalkboards. She was bright-eyed and rosy and looked surprisingly relaxed, considering everything she’d just gone through. Her color was high from the cold, her long red hair whipped and tangled from the winter wind. “Looks delicious,” she commented. “Sage and sausage tartlets…squash ravioli…stuffed mushrooms…my mouth is watering already.”
“We hope it’ll be good.” Elisa forced herself to look away from Nate. “This is the first time we’ve done something like this without Demi to run it, but she’s trained us well. So knock on wood.”
“I’m sure you’ll all be great,” Fiona said.
Fi Garrett was Anton Trask’s fiancée, soon to be Eric and Demi’s sister-in-law. A couple weeks ago, she and Anton had barely survived a violent run-in with Redd Kimball, the Trask brothers’ vicious long-time enemy, presumed dead for thirteen years. Kimball had survived the encounter and was still at large with bad intentions.
But the Trasks weren’t going to let him get ahead of them another time.
Anton had only recently gotten out of the hospital, and he was going to his brother Eric’s wedding, despite his vociferous disapproval of its timing. With Otis gone, the three brothers had only each other as family, and Nate Murphy, of course. Nate was an honorary brother at this point.
So the party was on for tomorrow, with a vengeance. In spite of the danger. But the Trasks had put all of their considerable resources into securing the event.
Nate had been here for their wild adventures almost from the start. He headed up security for Anton Trask’s chain of infamous Hellbound nightclubs, in addition to being Anton’s close friend. He and Mace Trask had met back in their time in the Marines.
She herself had been hyper-aware of him from the first second she saw him.
He was behind her now, blocking the light from the window and making her self-conscious. She glanced back and saw him looking at the chalkboard she was working on, trying not to smile. She knew what he would say before he opened his mouth.
“Looks great,” he murmured. “Except that the mushrooms are a little, ah…”
“Phallic,” she supplied, grabbing the vinegar and water soaked cloth and wiping her first attempt away. “Yeah. I noticed that. I’ll fix it.”
“Don’t erase them on my account,” he protested. “They’re awesome. And they’d be sure to get a laugh.”
“Not the vibe I’m going for.” Her face was hot. Phallic mushroom art might be good for a raucous bachelorette party, but tomorrow’s wedding was an elegant affair, held up at Bluff House, a beautiful historic mansion on the Heights. She wanted the menus to evoke classy-but-rustic, cheerful country charm. So no mushroom dicks.
But it was hard to concentrate this morning, even with the café closed for business. Elisa and the other five members of Demi’s restaurant staff had taken on the task of cooking and catering tomorrow’s banquet, and there was still tons to do. Elisa couldn’t abandon the restaurant to run upstairs and design those menu chalkboards in peace. She had to stay on hand down here to solve problems, put out fires and generally multitask. Not something she’d excelled at in her former life. Juggling a million details was a skill she’d learned right here, at Demi’s restaurant.
She’d put all of that training to the test this weekend. Demi deserved a delicious, perfectly catered feast after all the hell she’d been through. Besides, this was the last thing Elisa would be able to do for her friend, so it had to shine.
That was a sad and unproductive thought, so Elisa squashed it, focusing on sketching out the new, less-X-rated mushroom composition. Demi would be okay now that she had her adoring Eric to defend her from danger. Anton Trask, Eric’s equally tough brother, would do no less for Fi, as soon as he recuperated. Fi and Demi would protect their men just as fiercely. It was a beautiful thing to see. All that passion and heroism and trust and love on display. Wow.
She wasn’t exactly jealous. More like wistful. A little cynical, maybe, but she truly did hope it would turn out to be real and lasting for Demi and Fi. She had her fingers crossed for them. For her own part, she could never risk it again. Love, marriage, none of it. No way.
After all, Gil had seemed to adore her, too. Like crazy. At first.
“…to put in the freezer at the house, so it won’t go to waste while the place is closed. She told you about that, right? Um…hello? Elisa? Earth to Elisa?”
Elisa dragged her attention to Fiona. “Huh? Sorry.”
“The leftovers,” Fiona repeated gently. “Demi said to go ahead and pick the food up today. I hate to bug you guys while you’re so busy, but Anton’s agitating for lunch, so I thought now would be as good a time as any to pick up that food.”
“Ah. Um, yes,” she mumbled. “Excuse me. I zoned out. Let’s see, I’ve got squash soup and black bean soup in the fridge, barbecued pulled pork, prime rib, honey ham, eggplant parmesan, moussaka, and a whole bunch of lasagna.”
“Sounds great,” Fiona said. “All of it. Load me up. I’ll take whatever you give me. None of it will go to waste the way Anton eats. He’s the big foodie. I’m not much of a cook myself, but I can heat up leftovers like a pro.”
“Hold on just a sec,” Elisa said. “I’ll go fill up a box for you.”
Elisa went back to the storeroom freezer, grabbed a big box and started filling it with the leftover food that Demi had set aside for Anton and Fi. She packed the heavy, frozen aluminum containers into the box like bricks.
Thinking about Gil gave her a cold, heavy ache in her belly. That constant, grating fear that she was making a terrible mistake, no matter what she did, or didn’t do. She just couldn’t shake that feeling, night or day. She went to sleep with it, woke up with it. Dreamed with it. It was exhausting. So was pretending to be normal.