need it.” I don’t respond.
It wouldn’t be what he wants to hear.
We make it to the top of the stairs, and he opens the door for me. I walk in before him. Aspen is hunched over the counter smelling my roses from Hayes. “Pretty flowers, Felicity,” she chirps.
Tanner sweeps by me and plops down onto the stool against the kitchen counter. “They are nice roses, Liss.” He pulls them over and lifts them to his nose. “And they smell good, too.” Considering I’ve kept all information about Hayes on the down-low, this is getting awkward. Thankfully, I feel my phone buzzing in my back pocket.
I pull it out and walk to the other side of the room, feeling Tanner and Aspen’s eyes burn into my back as I open the text message. It’s a picture of Lady at the park with a caption that says: “This lady is such a dog.” I laugh, thinking what a cheeseball Hayes is when another text pops up.
Hayes: Thank you for last night. Been thinking about you all morning. And those lips…
I touch my fingertips to my mouth, relishing the moment I hoped would never end last night. Just the thought of it makes me feel alone in this room like no one is looking at me, worrying about me, or judging me.
Felicity: Well, I spent my morning realizing I’m falling for a creep. ;)
“Liss, want coffee?” Tanner’s voice startles me out of my tunnel vision of Hayes’s texts. I turn to see him eyeballing me. I know he sees the smile on my face and the phone in my hand as he holds a mug out for me. “Here, milk and sugar. The way you like it.”
“Yeah, thanks. I only have time for a quick breakfast. I have a double shift today—” Shit. Aspen. I just fired her. I don’t want to rehash last night’s conversation, and I’ve been pleasantly surprised by her attitude today, considering how our little talk ended last night. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m over it,” she says. “I actually have an interview this afternoon.”
“Oh?” I exclaim. “Where?” And that’s the sound of relief. If she finds something this quickly, it will make everything so much easier.
“Just a place down the street.” She shrugs and turns to the fridge, putting the milk away. I’m not going to entertain this with a come on, tell me. Because I know until I actually tell her about Hayes, about the mystery man, I shouldn’t be pressing her for information.
* * *
All of the guys in the kitchen were great about me returning to work. Unlike a bunch of catty girls, they each gave me a hug and moved on with it. It was appreciated. We hashed out the night’s specials and time ticked away. Before I knew it, I had twelve orders to fill. The perfectionist in me came out, and I was focused, so focused I forgot about everything else. I didn’t realize how much I missed being here.
“Felicity, a customer is asking for the chef,” Grant yells into the kitchen. “Looks like you’ve got a fan.” I remove my gloves and hang my apron up on the hook. It’s always a little awkward when a customer wants to talk to me. It’s usually to ask for the recipe or find out where I went to cooking school, whether or not it was abroad. And it’s almost always older men who are entertaining a client or a woman. It’s like complimenting the chef is a way for them to impress others. I find it funny.
As I push through the swinging kitchen doors, I find Grant standing at the computer, fixing someone’s bill. “Table fifteen,” he says, looking over his shoulder at me.
I can only see the back of a man’s head, and that it’s a table for one. People don’t usually dine here alone. Approaching the table, I see Hayes with an arched brow and a coy little smirk. “This lobster mac and cheese is pretty freaking amazing.” He leans toward me and in a whisper says, “You didn’t tell me you put lobster in it.”
A surge of warmth flushes through my cheeks. A compliment has never sounded so nice. He’s wearing a sport coat, and his button-down shirt is open at the collar. It’s pretty adorable, and I wish I were sitting across from him, rather then draped in a baggy, white chef’s uniform. “Where’s your date?”
He groans and scoffs. “Working.” He takes a bite of his food, his eyes close and