“What is the sous-chef’s special today?” I interrupt, stopping him partway through a list far too long to run through for each customer. I didn’t lie when I told Demi I’ve dined here every second day the past two months. I’m well-rehearsed on the standard menu, but ‘standard’ isn’t what I want. I’m here for the ‘special dish’ only a handful of patrons are lucky enough to secure.
“I’m not sure,” the waiter replies, aware of what I’m asking but uneased by my request. “She wasn’t rostered on today. She only arrived thirty minutes ago. I could ask her if you’d like?”
“If you could, that would be great.” I swallow to clear the stupid-ass nerves in my throat before adding, “Or perhaps she could tell me what her creation will be… in person?”
“Oh.” He pauses, smiles, then starts again. “I see.”
He sees all right—a sucker in the making. His brow isn’t cocked for no reason. I won’t get anywhere near the ‘Petretti special’ without handing over some coin, and if the dollar signs flashing in his eyes are anything to go by, a couple of dollar bills won’t cut the mustard.
While grumbling about how my glass of water better be free, I dig a twenty out of my wallet before slipping it into his hand.
“Sous-chef will be right out,” he says, all pompous like.
Thirty seconds later, Demi fills his spot. “Maddox,” she stammers out like I’m a mirage.
As her eyes widen in shock, they scan the restaurant. I can’t confirm who she’s seeking, but I can assume. The dread on her face is very telling, much less the sweat beating on her brow. It’s the same expression that reflected in the Latin restaurant’s door when I carried her inside, and the very reason I requested for us to be seated at the back. Even with Hopeton being her stomping ground, she isn’t comfortable here. It fuels my eagerness to discover why that is.
When Demi fails to find any sign of her uncle or the men he regularly dines with, her eyes return to me. “What are you doing here? You just ate.” Her dark brows pull together as an uneasy grin raises her cheeks. “And how did you know I’d be here? I wasn’t rostered to work today.”
“One, I’m always up for more food, especially if it is delicious as the meals you’ve been creating.” Her ghost-like smile is potent enough to slay a man. “And two, you took a left on 22nd Street. If you were going home, you would have turned right.” I shrug like it’s no big deal I know all her favorite haunts. It isn’t hard. She’s a creature of habit. She’s either at the gym, home, or here.
“Right.” She looks torn between smiling and grimacing. “So I need to add stalking to your list of talents? Good to know.”
Her facial expression settles on relieved a few seconds later. I want to say it’s compliments to my undeniable charisma. Unfortunately, that would be a lie. All the credit belongs to the waiter. He didn’t just fill my glass with room temperature water when he returned to my table to take my order, he also advised Demi her uncle’s flight has been delayed until tomorrow, so she’ll need to stay until closing tonight.
Most people scowl when lumped with the late shift. Demi almost bursts with excitement.
“Thank you, Ty.” Although Ty looks on the verge of cracking a fat over Demi’s gratitude, I act ignorant to the admired twinkle in his eyes. Her words may have been for him, but her eyes are solely mine. “Do you really want to know what tonight’s special will be?”
I’m as stuffed as a turkey at Thanksgiving, but I’ll force down anything she’s offering if it keeps her looking at me the way she is.
Well, except for one thing.
“It isn’t snails again, is it?”
I thought Demi’s light eyes and dark hair combination was her greatest asset, but her smile makes a quick liar out of me. “Not tonight. I’m saving them for taco Tuesday. If you only want to spend two dollars on a taco, you should anticipate slugs in your meal.”
“Way to ruin a good feed.”
Her smile doubles. It’s almost as large as mine. “They deserve it.”
The mood shifts from playful to serious when I can’t hold back my comment. “I’m sure they do.”
Four little words shouldn’t be so impacting, but they force our exchange into a prolonged stretch of silence. I wouldn’t necessarily say it is uncomfortable. It’s more promising than disheartening.
I’m not claiming to know all her secrets.
I am merely letting her know I’m okay with her having them.
After an additional thirty seconds of silence, Demi breaks it. “I placed a tray of homemade lasagnas in the oven when I arrived, but they need another thirty or so minutes. I could whip you up something if you have time to kill?”
I nod like she invited me to her place for a nightcap. “I’ve got nowhere important to be.”
Her eyes fall to my watch that shows I’m due to arrive at a fight in the basement of a college library forty miles from here in a little over an hour before she returns them to my face. “Are you sure about that, Ox? From what I’ve heard, your Thursday nights are booked until New Year’s, and your Fridays may soon follow them.”
I twist my lips, not surprised she knows my fighting name and oddly turned on by it. “Who did you hear that from?”
I’m acting coy, and Demi knows it. Her cousin organizes the college circuit held every Thursday in local colleges, and he ‘owns’ a handful of fighters in the Friday night statewide feature his father runs each week. She knows what’s been occupying my time for the past seven months because her family is very much a part of it. That’s why I was hesitant with my comment earlier today. My ego wouldn’t let me believe she was only glancing my way because she wanted to shift my fight schedule from Thursdays to Fridays as her cousin has been endeavoring to do the past couple of months, but it has occasionally led me astray, so I had to listen to the rational side of my brain for a change.
“No one important,” Demi eventually replies, her tone honest.
When I scoot to the edge of my chair, the cuffs on the sports jacket I tossed over my gym clothes ride up past my wrists. I’m underdressed to dine in a restaurant, but I didn’t want to travel home just to change my clothes. The sooner I arrived here, the faster I’d learn how badly I shoved my foot into my mouth. I can’t take back what I said, but I can assure I don’t make the same mistake twice.
“My schedule is set by importance.” I scan Demi’s beautiful face and big blue eyes while muttering, “This is important.”
By this, I mean her.
Fortunately for me, Demi has no issues reading between the lines. With a smile that advocates my earlier stuff-up has been wiped clean, she says, “I’ll be out with your meal as soon as possible.”
Her steps away slow when I offer, “Then perhaps I can give you a ride home?”
The whisps of almost black hair fanning her gorgeous face slap her cheeks when she whips back around to face me. The rest of her glossy locks are pulled off her face in a high ponytail, enhancing the elegance of her long neck. “That’s hours away, Maddox.”
I shrug before sinking into my chair. “As I said earlier, I am exactly where I’m meant to be.”