Page 70 of Challenged by the Single Dad

He blinked and shook his head in an attempt to banish those impure thoughts that took over his brain. “Huh?”

“You okay?” Jillian asked. “You spaced out for a sec there.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry. Just tired. What was the question?”

Renée and Jillian exchanged curious looks. “I just asked if you agreed that Chloe must feel really violated having her space invaded like that. It was nice you guys were able to put her up in the cabin.”

He nodded. “Yeah. She was pretty upset about it, I heard.” He cleared his throat. “Okay, everyone, we open in ten. Let’s finish setting up.”

“I’m assuming we’re not opening the patio given the weather?” Jillian asked, stowing her purse under the bar and grabbing an apron to tie around her waist.

Dom shook his head. “Unless it clears up, it’s more of a hassle to wipe everything down. Nobody’s going to want to sit out there.”

“Roger,” she said.

“Finished with the garnishes,” Logan said, slicing through the fog that still clung around the fringes of Dom’s mind. “What would you like me to do now?”

Dom glanced down at Logan’s workstation which was already all tidied up, and the garnish containers were full and ready. “Uh …”

“You can help me wipe down tables, turn down chairs, and put out condiments,” Renée offered, that sparkle in her eyes like a silver dollar in the sunlight.

Logan shrugged. “Sure.” Then he followed behind her like a shaggy, blond golden retriever as they finished getting the restaurant ready. Dom went to the kitchen to finally get some ice.

With two big buckets of ice in each hand, he dumped them into the stainless-steel tubs at either end of the bar. “Specials?” he asked through the food window, having noticed Wyatt’s head bobbing around on the hot side.

Wyatt appeared, his expression sly. “Pacific Rim Chowder is the soup of the day. Then we’ve got tagliatelle with West Coast mussels and crème fraiche as our pasta special, and a blackened snapper with an Israeli couscous salad and grilled zucchini as our main special. Lunch sandwich is a pesto chicken on sour dough.”

Dom’s belly rumbled. “And the dessert?”

“Summer Berry Crumble with homemade vanilla ice cream.”

“Christ, that sounds good.”

“As good as what you were snacking on in the cash room earlier?” Wyatt asked. Both amusement and wariness flickered in his blue-hazel eyes—the same shade as Dom’s.

Heat instantly filled Dom’s cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play a player,” Wyatt said. “You weren’t exactly quiet. And I needed to grab something from that room and went to open the door when I heard your grunt and her sigh.”

“First of all, you’re not a player. So don’t even try, and second of all—”

“You’re playing with fucking fire,” Wyatt warned. “So much for talking to her and making sure it wasn’t going to happen again.”

Dom narrowed his gaze at his brother over the ledge of the food window. “I fucking tried.”

“And what? She just ripped off all her clothes, and yours, and blockaded the door? If you guys are becoming something, we need to have a business meeting, and then sit down with Chloe and figure shit out. This could come back and bite all of us in the ass—hard.”

“What could bite you in the ass?” Renée asked, back behind the bar, and within earshot as she showed Logan where they kept the spare rolls of cutlery and napkins. Her gaze bounced between Wyatt and Dom.

Dom grunted, glared at his brother, then shook his head. “Nothing. Are we ready to open?”

Renée nodded. “Sure are. Jill, you want to unlock the door and let in the masses?”

Rolling his eyes, Dom grabbed the special’s board that was tucked into a space between the bar and the wall, and grabbed the package of chalk pens. “Here,” he said to Renée, “we all know your penmanship is better than mine.” Then he rattled off the specials Wyatt had said, while adding the drink specials as well.

“When are we going to add Chloe’s Caesar to the rotation of daily specials?” Renée asked as she picked out a hot-pink chalk pen and began writing the with legible flourish.

Jillian returned from unlocking the door, the ladies of the Sewing Circle in her wake. She rolled her pretty brown eyes. “Five teas and three coffees for the babes in the corner booth.”

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