Page 25 of Bargain with the Bachelor
All my senses went on high alert. Kristal wore serviceable clothing—another combination of white shirt, khaki pants and flat shoes—and she looked beautiful.
Her shiny, dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, revealing her high cheekbones and slender neck.
Though I knew she’d been going through her own personal hell these past few months, she showed no sign of it, laughing at something the diners said and giving them the wide, sunny smile that had stolen my breath and warmed my soul so many times throughout our younger years.
No wonder Robbie was smitten, poor guy.
Kristal interacted with her fellow restaurant staffers in the same way, being her smiling, genuine, helpful self.
I knew, because I watched her like a lion stalking a fat wildebeest throughout the rest of the evening.
If she noticed me there, she gave no indication, never looking my way and certainly never making eye contact.
And if she was hoping I’d get bored and leave, she didn’t know me at all. I had no trouble sitting for hours while working on a single intricate bit of code. Waiting out the dinner crowd was nothing.
Of course, if time was money—and it was—I was wasting a fucking fortune tonight.
Worth it.
When I’d finished the appetizer, dinner, and dessert courses, I ordered a cheese plate and a cup of coffee, lingering until all but one other table had cleared. Kristal still hadn’t even glanced in my direction.
She’s almost as stubborn as I am.I smiled.Almost.
Robbie the waiter returned. His voice this time was even less polite and held an unmistakable note of hostility.
He darted a glance across the room at Kristal. “My shift is ending soon. Will that beall, sir?”
I leaned back in my chair, lacing my fingers over my overly full stomach. “It’s been delicious, Robbie, but I’m thinking of an after-dinner drink—how about a bottle of the 2014 Domaine de La Romanée-Conti, Grand Cru?”
The French chardonnay was the most expensive thing on the wine list at six-thousand-two-hundred-and-fifty dollars a bottle.
There was no way the waiter would refuse me and kick me out—the restaurant manager would have his hide—and the guy’s tip on the wine alone would be over a thousand dollars.
Suddenly Robbie’s demeanor changed, his gallant attempt to shield Kristal from me coming to an abrupt end.
“Very good, sir. Right away, sir.”
As he walked away, I called out. “Robbie? I intend to savor it, and I don’t want you to have to wait around. You can go ahead and bring me the bill with the bottle. I’ll settle up, and you can go home.”
The waiter nodded and sped away toward the wine cellar. I kind of felt bad for the guy.
Kind of. He’d no doubt only been doing what Kristal had asked of him, and who could blame him for carrying a torch for her? Hedeserveda good tip after all the shenanigans I’d put him through tonight.
But the waiter’s irritation—or jealousy—wasn’t my chief concern. Kristal was.
I’d thought about her all day today, how she’d lost her father then lost her home, how she’d gone from wealthy to basically penniless without warning.
The only part of last night’s revelations that hadn’t shocked me was that she had turned down any offers of charity, insisting on paying her own way in the world.
While some of the other rich kids in her social circle had been entitled, Kristal had always worked hard in school, earning a merit scholarship to college instead of relying on her father’s money to foot the bill.
Since learning of her situation, I’d been wracking my brain for ways to help her. I’d even considered underwriting a large raise for her here.
But even if the restaurant group’s owner had been willing to accept my money and funnel it to her, Kristal would be mortified if she ever learned of my donation.
Still, I had to do something.
Finally, when Robbie and the rest of the staff had left, along with the last table of diners, Kristal walked over to me, giving the barely-touched bottle of wine a hard stare before meeting my eyes.
