Page 23 of Game Changer

“Percy Haines,” he says, keeping his gaze locked on his phone screen. “Get me the special and make it quick.”

“Um, manners.” I nudge his hand. “Put the phone down, Percy, and shake Annalise’s hand.”

His gaze catches mine. He nods before placing the phone screen side down on the table. He turns to face Annalise, offering his hand as he does. “I’m Percy Haines. It’s good to meet you.”

She takes his hand in hers. “Annalise Brookings. The special is a trio of stuffed squash blossoms. Something tells me that’s not what you want to eat today.”

That earns her a smile from him. “What do you suggest, Annalise?”

She takes a step back to study him. “The beef rouladen.It’s served with the fluffiest mashed potatoes you’ll ever have.”

My craving for the salmon just got washed away.

“I’m game.” Percy hands her his menu. “Add a glass of the house red to it.”

She nods before shifting her attention to me. “Let me guess, William. You’ll have the salmon.”

Her assumption is a sure sign that I have indeed become one of the regulars. “I’ll have the same as Percy, but it’s water for me, please.”

“Of course,” she says before she spins on her heel to head toward the kitchen.

Percy keeps his gaze on her ass until she’s out of view.

I get it. Annalise is a pretty woman with curves to match, but we’re here to discuss Opal Waverly, so I snap my fingers to regain his attention.

Shrugging a shoulder, he smirks. “Have you had a taste of that, William?”

I hope to hell he’s talking about the food and not the bistro’s owner. Before I can ask, his phone starts ringing with an incoming call.

He’s up and out of his chair at lightning speed. “I need to take this in private.”

I lean back in my chair and watch him dart out the door to take the call on the crowded sidewalk. My gut is telling me he’s not the man for Opal, but I need to do more research on whether or not they’re compatible. It looks like another random chance encounter with Opal is in my near future.

13

Opal

“You spilled what on him?”Aunt Hildy’s eyes widen behind the bright pink frames of her eyeglasses.

My great aunt has an eyeglass collection that I suspect is second to none. I’ve never seen her wear the same pair twice. I’m not even sure if any of them are prescription glasses, but she owns the look each and every time she puts on a pair.

The cute pink and white polka dot dress she’s wearing makes her a stand out in any crowd, including in this bustling diner that she suggested we come to after the restaurant we agreed to meet at lost her reservation.

She loudly proclaimed that she’d take it up with the management, but I know she won’t since the person who manages that particular restaurant is the granddaughter of one of Hildy’s closest friends.

Everything was smoothed over before we left the restaurant. We’ll circle back there in a few weeks to sample something that will be new to the menu at that time.

Sharing a cheeseburger and fries with Hildy at this diner is exactly what I needed today.

“Dicey Dip,” I answer, trying not to laugh.

I’ve been telling her the story of how I met William Knight. The only reason I dove into that tale is that Hildy asked how Bauer Knight ended up at the soft launch of Turquoise Crown. Apparently, William’s younger brother is an up-and-coming artist. He’s going to sketch something for Hildy. According to her, it’s a top-secret project, which likely means I’ll never get a peek at it.

“That sounds disgusting.” The expression on her face further backs up the words because her nose is scrunched up as if she’s smelling something that should be buried in a deep hole forever. She’s onto something because the original Dicey Dip had a very distinctive odor.

“It tasted good,” I say because the guilt I’d feel over bashing Malvie’s food would haunt me forever.

She eyes me skeptically. “It didn’t smell good, did it?”

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