Page 87 of Holly versus Mr. Ivy
“But you still don’t think it will be enough?”
“It will help.”
Way to avoid answering the question, Rhett.“What if we offer a discount to companies who book a holiday party with us? We don’t have a ton of space, but we could section off tables one through twelve to give them a little bit of privacy.”
“Also a good idea. At this point, anything we can do would help.”
“Do we have a list of companies that have come here in the past? We can talk to them first. Otherwise, can we purchase an email list for business owners in the area and let them know about it?”
“I’ll ask Aaron to get on that. Any other genius plans in that brain of yours?”
I smiled flirtatiously. “Lots.”
“Holly,” he growled.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. We agreed to keep it professional at work.”
“We did.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I’m dying to kiss you again. For my sanity, please don’t be so tempting.”
I laughed. “I’ll work on that. In the meantime, are you okay? With the meeting tomorrow? Is there anything we can do beforehand to make it go better than last time?”
“Having you by my side will be plenty.”
“I’ll always be there for you.” I smirked. “Whether you want me to be or not.”
“Thank you, Holly. You should get back to the kitchen before you’re missed.”
“Ha!” I chuckled, standing to leave. “I don’t think they care one way or another.”
Rhett just shook his head at me as he opened his door and I walked out.
Time dragged on without anything for me to physically do. I flitted around, instructing where necessary, but mostly shooting the breeze with my staff. In one small way, maybe having burned hands improved my relationship with my employees.
Rhett came back into the kitchen a few hours after our meeting. A goofy grin tried to make an appearance, but I cracked down on it like a kid sneaking candy, and forced my lips to stay in a neutral position. My eyes, though? Nothing I could do to keep them from tracking his every movement.
His gray suit tugged across his back as he opened his water bottle and refiled it at the soda station. What should have been a quick errand seemed like it took Rhett hours to finish, like he was purposely going slow. Most likely to irk me, knowing I was counting down the seconds until we were alone.
He finished talking to one of the waiters who came in to grab rolls for his table, and the moment he spun around and made direct eye contact with me was like looking into the sun. I wanted to blink, my eyes begging me to preserve themselves and look away, but I couldn’t. The smile Rhett flashed me turned my knees to melted butter.
He winked, pulling me further under his spell.
“Chef?”
“Hmmm?” I said dreamily, lost in a cozy cabin on a fur rug in front of a fireplace with Rhett lying next to me, nuzzling my neck, my fingers tracing the outline of his lips, hot cocoa and popcorn at the ready.
“Chef?” Kevin’s voice rose, popping my daydream bubble.
Heat flashed across my chest and up into my cheeks. Rhett smirked at me, then left the kitchen. Hypocrite. He told me to keep my flirting in check, but he was allowed to distract me? Well, Mr. Ivy, game on.
I cleared my throat. “Yes?”
“Will you come taste the sauce? Something is off, and I want your opinion on oregano or white pepper.”
“Sure thing.”
I glanced once more at the door Rhett had recently vacated, then focused on my kitchen.
It was going to be a looonnggg night.
