“Morning, Hazel,” Rosalee, Hunt and Gather’s head waitress, says as I enter my code into the system to sign on. “I’ve got you learning drinks today.” She smiles as she looks up from her clipboard. My stomach drops.
“I’m not waitressing?” I ask, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice. Being on drinks means I won’t be in the kitchen today. Is this my father’s doing?
“George said he wants you to learn the whole business. Waitressing is only part of it. You’ll be the boss of all of this one day, so it’s good if you can jump in anywhere.”
“What about the kitchen? Will I have to learn how to run the kitchen?”
She flashes me a smile as she tilts her head. “Maybe. But we’re focusing on the floor for now. One thing at a time.”
“Sure,” I say, dropping my eyes as I realize that, yes, Dad is making sure my path steers clear of Cillian’s after seeing us together last night. Not fair. Lucky I’ve never let a little thing like Dad’s rules stop me from having fun. I’ll just have to find another way to see Cillian out without it looking too obvious. As much as I’d like to just march up to him and say something cool like… actually, I don’t know how to say anything cool. Still, I’d like to feel comfortable asking him directly about the state of our suggested date. Sure, my dad threatened his job, but that just means we must be careful. I don’t see it as a deal breaker, but Cillian might. That’s why I need to talk to him and find out where I stand. God, I really hope he’s not planning to cancel our date.
Especially since it’s the first I’ve ever had.
I’ve never been the kind of girl to throw tantrums when I don’t get my way. But if I miss out on this opportunity, I might be inclined to start. Cillian feels like a dream come true.
Lunch service doesn’t have a meal before the shift starts like the dinner service does. That’s primarily because most of the lunch staff are also the dinner staff. So, the break in between the two shifts is when the team meal happens. I’m not sure the team meal is the right time to talk to Cillian since there’ll be so many other people around, which means I’ll have to find a way to either get into the kitchen during my bar shift, or somehow orchestrate running into him during a bathroom break or something. Failing that, I guess I can try to get his number from the employee records. But that would be a bit of an overstep, I think… Not to mention the records are all kept in Dad’s office under lock and key. I’m not sure how to do this…
I let out a sigh as I dry the glasses fresh out of the dishwasher, hanging them by the stem in the allocated slots above the bar. “Somewhere else you’d rather be?” Jessica, the bartender, asks as I stare longingly at the kitchen doors, mindlessly drying, desperate for those doors to swing open so I can see Cillian in there.
Sunday lunch is a busy shift, so I’ve had ample opportunity to catch glimpses of him as the wait staff moves in and out of the kitchen delivering meals. But I’m yet to catch him catching a glimpse of me, which is a little deflating if I’m honest. If he was feeling even half of what I’m feeling for him, then wouldn’t he be looking for me too? Or maybe I’m just naïve since the only experience with romance I have comes from books and movies. They aren’t exactly the greatest teachers of these things, or so I hear. When the girls at school would talk about boys, they often said that things ‘weren’t what they expected’. Still, I guess it doesn’t hurt to hope and dream. I’d like to think that patience really is a virtue, and since I’m a bit of a late bloomer, maybe I’ll also be an exception to the rule. Maybe I really do get a fairy tale happily ever after. That would be nice…
I let out another sigh as I shake my head to try to knock some sense into myself. “Just daydreaming,” I mutter, realizing how lame I sound even in my own head. I do a mental facepalm and force myself to look away from the kitchen doors.
“About Cillian, perhaps?” she asks, a slow grin pulling at the side of her mouth.
“What makes you think that?” My eyes snap to hers.
“Oh, I don’t know… Maybe it’s the way you jump to attention every time those doors open over there.” She lifts her chin in the direction of the kitchen doors. “He’s the only one you can see from here. I’d know. He’s nice to look at.” She gives me a wink as she leans over and pulls a printed ticket off the machine. “Can I have two of those glasses, please?”
“Ah, sure,” I say, handing them to her. “Do you…ah… know much about him?”
“Cillian? I know as much as anyone does,” she says. “He’s been the sous chef here for the past six years. He’s good at what he does, keeps mostly to himself.” She leans in close and lowers her voice, grinning. “And he’s hot as hell. Every girl here has a crush on him at some point or other. Oh, and his family own that bar, Kelly’s, in town. You’ll find more eye candy there because his brothers are as hot as he is.”
“Good genes, I guess.”
“Hell yeah. It should be illegal for one family to have that many fine specimens of the male species.”
I release a small laugh. “I suppose you’re right. Does he…um…date many of the girls who have crushes on him?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ear as I do my best to come across nonchalant. It doesn’t work though. Jessica turns to me with a broad smile.
“Unfortunately, no. I’ve never even heard of him asking anyone for a date. You’d think looking like that, he should be a bit of a player. But no. Cillian is a squeaky clean. He does his job, and he follows the rules.”
A tiny sliver of hope blooms in my heart. She’s never heard of him asking someone for a date… Does that make me special?
“I guess I’ll just have to settle for looking at him from afar—or across the table tonight,” I joke, feeling unable to hide my smile. He’s never asked anyone out before!
“Normally you would. But not Sunday’s. Cillian doesn’t work Sunday night. He gets Sunday through to Tuesday lunch off. So the next chance you get is then, my friend. And be prepared to get in line. We all want the chance to sit right next to him and accidentally brush against those muscular thighs of his.” She smiles and sets the finished drinks on a tray, along with the ticket. “Now, why don’t you take a break from your Cillian watching to run these out for me?”
“No problem,” I say, lifting the tray. “And thanks.”
She lifts her brow. “For what?”
“For not laughing at me.”
She frowns. “Why would anyone want to do that?”
I bounce a shoulder. “You’d be surprised. At boarding school…I didn’t exactly fit in.”
“Well, you’re here now,” she says, flashing me a smile. “And this place is where you belong. Welcome home, Hazel.”
Welcome home…
Cillian
With the collar of my jacket turned up against the cold, I shove my hands in my pockets and hunch forward as I walk the short distance between the restaurant and my parents’ bar. Every Sunday since we were kids, they close up early and we have Sunday dinner. Now as adults, we’re still doing the same, but now I’m the one doing the cooking so Mam gets a break after all these years. Benefits of having a chef for a son.