Page 36 of Stick to the Plan
I’ve barely read through the appetizers before a waitress appears at Brianna’s elbow to take drink orders and read today’s specials. Again, the waitress’s sole focus is on Brianna. Deferring to her for an appetizer and wine selection, then fumbling our menus before practically sprinting off to the bar to grab the wine.
Well and truly confused, I turn to Brianna for an explanation, but she is scanning the specials menu as if running waitresses tripping over themselves is a normal occurrence. I can’t hold back my curiosity any more. “Brianna, what the feck was that about?”
“Vicky? She’s just shy. She’s still new.”
My eyes widen at her flippant answer. Like that is a legitimate explanation? I am still staring at Brianna when Vicky returns with our bottle of wine and takes our dinner order. At least she doesn’t trip, as she rushes off to put in our selections.
“That doesn’t explain the hostess. You have a usual table? I knew you probably came a lot to see Anna, but that girl looked almost scared.”
Brianna scrunches her nose as she finishes a sip of wine and lowers her glass. “Oh…that… I don’t usually come in on Mondays. I have a standing Friday night reservation at my favorite table. Chrissy is great at her job, but a surprise visit from the boss is enough to throw anyone.”
I choke on the sip of wine I’ve just taken. “Boss?” I sputter and cough into my napkin.
Brianna relaxes back into the booth, smiling at me over the rim of her wineglass. Mischief dances in her cobalt eyes. “Anna told you she was part owner. Nic and I are the other owners. Anna is a culinary genius, but isn’t so talented at payroll, business plans, or tax filings. That’s where I come in — I handle the business side. We couldn’t leave Nic out, though. She’s ourresident art curator and angel investor. All of those photographs are hers, or an artist hand picked by her.”
Speechless, I stare at her, jaw open. She laughs at my expression and some more of the recent tension leaves her shoulders. That’s fine; she can laugh at me all she wants if it cheers her up.
I reach across the small table, clasping Brianna’s hand in my own and giving it a gentle squeeze. Shaking my head slightly, my smile grows as I lean in. “You, Ms. Chance, are amazing. Is there anything you can’t do?”
Brianna smiles at me, her eyes warm, clearly pleased by my praise. We sit there smiling at each other, me still holding her hand, until the waitress returns with our appetizers. Breaking the eye contact, Brianna thanks the waitress and I reluctantly withdraw my hand and busy myself with my silverware.
The appetizer is delicious - calamari tossed in a buffalo sauce. I had been skeptical at the combination, but should have trusted Anna’s palette. As we nibble on our starters, I ask Brianna about the call she’d gotten. She groans around a bite of spicy squid and, after another sip of wine, explains the pellet mixup.
I laugh at the image of pink executive smart screens and toast her success with the vendor, refilling both our glasses of wine. By the time the entrees arrive, we are taking turns telling stories of purchasing disasters. Trying to one up each other.
I dig into the stuffed tenderloin - thin slices artfully arranged down the center of a plate, highlighting a perfect pinwheel of pork rolled with spinach, goat cheese, and red pepper chutney layers. Brianna opts for the sea bass special and lets me steal a bite. The black truffle risotto is amazing. As impressed as I’d been with the party food, my respect for Anna’s cooking increases tenfold.
Anna comes out to check on our dinner, slipping into the booth on Brianna’s side so she scoots closer to me. The girls share a side hug and Anna studies me over her friend’s head. “You stalking me, Irish?”
“What can I say? One bite and I’m hooked.”
Anna turns to Brianna again, a frown marring her brow. “You OK, Bree?”
Heads bent close together, I barely hear Brianna’s response. “Chris was at the office today.”
Anna’s lips pinch together and her eyes narrow. She furtively glances at me and back at Brianna. Whatever she wants to say, she doesn’t want to say it in front of me. What did that maggot do to deserve even sweet Anna’s ill will? Maybe I should have introduced his face to my fist.
With one more squeeze, Anna dips her head to whisper in Brianna’s ear. “I’m closing tonight, but call me later if you need to talk.” She leans her temple against Brianna’s, her care and concern for her friend clear on her face. More loudly, she says, “I should get back to the kitchen. I’ll send out some dessert.”
Rising in one fluid motion, Anna takes a step toward the kitchens, pausing next to me. She rests her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes are serious as they bear into mine, trying to convey a message. I nod, trying to assure her I have this handled. With one more look back at Brianna and a squeeze to my shoulder, she leaves.
We finish our dinners in silence, the absence of the earlier banter sorely felt. Brianna retracts back into herself at the reminder of the confrontation at the office. As I’m still trying to think of a way to break the silence, our waitress arrives with dessert.
A plate of delicate, colorful, round sandwich cookies appears in front of Brianna. The waitress points to each, stating they are raspberry, espresso, and lemon macrons. Before me, she places a shiny dark chocolate domewith colorful disks down one side. Vicky declares it a dark chocolate and Bailey’s mousse dome.
A little light returns to Brianna’s eyes as she smiles down at her dessert. She takes a delicate bite of the burgundy cookie and sighs. Seeing me smiling at her, she holds the cookie out for me to try. It tastes delicious; a slight crunch to the shell with a soft chewy center and tart raspberry buttercream filling. I slice my spoon through the dome in front of me, finding it filled with a light brown mousse.
I hold the spoon out for her. She maintains eye contact as her lips close around the spoon still in my hand, and my breath catches. Feeding her is erotic, and after a month of blue balls, it doesn’t take much to get my cock’s attention. She licks those sinfully lush lips, missing a spot of chocolate at the corner of her lip. Before I can stop myself, I reach out and clean the chocolate off her mouth with my thumb. Brianna’s eyes darken with hunger as she watches me lick the chocolate off my finger. I swell painfully behind the zipper of my pants.
Adjusting myself, I signal for the check.
After some bickering over who should pay, I convince the waitress to take my corporate card. Bill settled, I step to Brianna’s side of the booth to help her stand. Hand firmly settled in my new favorite spot, I lean into Brianna’s ear.
“Let’s go home.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Taking Charge
