close. Maurice had certainly been too tight-fisted to splurge on a fancy meal.
Well, she was here now, in a ringside seat, and she’d make the most of it. And that included digging into the deliciousness in front of her... although the clams were a strange texture. She nudged that thought out of her mind along with the other sounds, smells, and sights from the kitchen proper, and focused on the unique blend of flavors.
Not that she could completely keep her eyes off Tony. He glanced over several times, meeting her gaze with an acknowledging smile that also seemed to gauge her reactions and progress with the appetizer, because as soon as she’d set the fork down after her final bite, he came over to remove the plate.
“A glass of wine?”
She shook her head. Watching Maurice’s liver shut down from decades of alcohol abuse had been enough to swear her off it for life. “Ginger ale, maybe. Or water is fine.”
He nodded and spoke to someone through the gap to the dining room. A moment later Dixie Ranta appeared with a glass clinking with ice cubes. “Hi, Kenna. Here’s your ginger ale.”
“Thank you.” Kenna didn’t want to examine the younger woman’s gaze. Dixie hesitated a moment, likely curious, then headed out of the kitchen through the swinging doors.
Tony approached with two plates. He set one in front of her and slid in across from her with the other. “Things have slowed down, so I’ll take a break, too. May I say grace?”
She nodded and bowed her head then listened to his short prayer of thanks. A bed of noodles — or was that something else? — was covered with a creamy sauce dotted with sausage and green stuff. Kale, maybe? “This smells amazing.”
“I hope it tastes the same.” He twirled his fork. “How were the clams?”
“Amazing.” She’d already used that word. She had a strange feeling she’d use it a few more times by the end of the evening.
That dimple appeared again as his eyes crinkled. “I’m glad. It’s one of our most popular starters, so I took a chance you’d enjoy it.” He pointed his fork at her plate. “Ditto on the zucchini noodles with the andouille sauce. Lots of people are flirting with a ketogenic diet these days.”
So she’d been right. Not pasta after all. But she couldn’t fault the taste. She sighed against her fork as the full flavor activated all the taste buds in her mouth. “You’re good.”
His blue eyes intensified. “You’re not just saying that?”
She couldn’t tear her gaze away. “It’s the best meal I’ve had in... I can’t even remember. Possibly ever.”
“Well, you know how to get to a man’s heart.” Then he seemed to realize what he’d said.
The air seemed charged between them for a long moment before Kenna managed to disengage and focus on loading her fork for another bite.
Wowzah. This man was deadly. To her heart.
The rest of the evening was fairly slow, even for a Wednesday, so Tony lingered at the staff table while Oriana prepped for the next day. There was a little rush by a group of concertgoers just before ten, and he got up to fix their orders.
Kenna didn’t seem in any hurry to leave, even as she savored her tiramisu then finally nudged her empty plate away. Her curious gaze followed him around the kitchen.
He was accustomed to being watched but, with Kenna, it was different. She wasn’t trying to learn a technique or analyze his choreography or critique his flavors. She just... watched.
Tony didn’t dare become distracted. Thankfully the orders were meals he could practically cook in his sleep, and Oriana was attentive to add the correct sides and salads. She was finally shaking down into a good sous chef.
When the group had been served, it was nearly time to close. Tony slid back into the booth and set his hat on the table. It was hard to stay away.
“What did you think?” He left the question open-ended.
“Impressive.” Her gray eyes sought his.
“It’s only fifteen minutes until closing. If you want, I’ll walk you home then.”
She glanced over at Oriana, who was scraping down the griddle. “You don’t have to stay and finish cleanup?”
He shook his head. “Not tonight. I’ll come in a bit early tomorrow to make sure everything’s ready. The servers have already cleaned everywhere but those final tables, and Derrick will make sure those are ready before he locks up. I don’t need to be the last one out the door.” It wasn’t