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He sighs. “I suppose not.”

We haven’t made much progress—maybe about as much as I’ve made with Bea—by the time she returns for the final time. “I know that none of you asked for dessert, and most people don’t want it after lunch. But I could tell that three of you really needed just abitmore.” She sets a wooden board with skewers on it in front of Mrs. Yaltzinger, Mr. Jimenez, and Miss Lundgren. “These are called dessert pops. There’s a champagne-infused berry, a macaron, and the best truffle cake ball you’ve ever had. The dips on there are to die for.”

“What about me?” I ask.

“You’re already too sweet.” She flounces out.

When I go to grab the check, she’s talking to someone. I’m pretty sure she’s not actually waiting for me, but it almost feels like it. “Hey, you did a great job today,” I say. “There’s a reason I asked for you. I knew they’d love the select-their-food-for-them trick.”

“None of our other waiters do that,” the host says. “A few of them have tried, but it went. . .not as well.”

“I asked for her secret,” I say. “But she wouldn’t share it.”

“Sometimes she refuses to do it,” the host says. “But when she’son? It’s pretty amazing.”

Now I really want to know how she does it. I pay with the company card—board meeting—and then pull her aside. “Come on,” I say. “Now that no one else is around, surely you’ll share how you do it.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Easton,” Mrs. Yaltzinger catches up to me. “I just talked to Ursula. I know the last date was not a love connection, but she has some ideas, and I think if you give her a chance, you’ll see that she’s great at her job. She learned a lot from your feedback last time, and she has a few strong candidates. You can even take a look.” She holds up her phone. “I really like this lady, who runs a salon on the West side.”

“He really did meet someone, you know,” Bea says.

My heart stutters.

“She’s pretty shy, but he met her on his last date.”

“Did he?” Mrs. Yaltzinger’s eyes light up. “Tell me more. Is she pretty? Did she look fashionable?”

Bea shrugs. “She actually looked pretty plain to me. Definitely not a stylista.”

I snort. “She’s breathtaking.” I can’t help staring. Even in her work uniform, her flawless skin, her waterfall of hair falling from her high ponytail down her back, and her full, pursed lips are just. . .stunning. There’s no other word that fits.

“She’s small and mousy,” Bea says. “But Easton seemed to really like her.”

Mrs. Yaltzinger sighs, staring at me without the slightest idea that Bea is talking about herself. “I’ll giveyou a week. If you’re not dating someone officially by then.” She points. “You’ll let us try again.”

I nod slowly.

But when Mrs. Yaltzinger wanders off, I pounce. “How about you open the door a little. I only have a week.”

“Huh?” The little wrinkle between her eyebrows is adorable.

“Just let me in a little—you can see what you think.”

“It’s not that I?—”

“I know your jingle finals are tonight, and I want to go with you.”

“The thing is, Jake’s already coming to help me,” she says. “He’s—he gets—I don’t think it’s a good idea if?—”

“I’m not scared of your brother,” I say.

She bites her lip.

It’s so cute. “Just give me a shot. If I make things hard for you on your big night, you can refuse to talk to me again.”

“I wouldn’t normally take him with me,” she says. “Jake makes most things harder. I know he hasn’t been that nice to you, either, but he’s really connected, and he’s also painfully talented with music, entertainment, all of it.”

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