Page 6 of The One I Hate
Well, most of them.
“You know what we need? Drinks.”
I look over to Mellie to see if she’s serious. “Drinks?”
“Yup! Drinks!” She pops up off the crate as if she needs space to present her idea. “We haven’t gone out in forever. It’s a beautiful night in Nashville, so you know Broadway is going to be so much fun.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, I do. You. Me. Drinks. Rooftop bars. Cowboy boots. Maybe some cowboys.”
I shake my head, but can’t hold in my laugh as she waggles her eyebrows. “While that sounds great, you know I can’t afford a night out.”
She shakes her head. “Lucky for you, I can. I might not be able to buy in to a restaurant, but I can get us a few rounds.”
“Fine. But only because I know you won’t let it go if I say no.”
“You know me so well.”
We laugh as I hear the door open behind me.
“Chef?”
I look over to the line cook who has popped his head out. “Yeah?”
“Your one o’clock appointment is here.”
“Thanks,” I say as I push myself off the plastic crate. “Guess it’s time to work.”
Mellie gives my hand a squeeze. “You got this.”
I nod as I make my way inside to find that the cooks did a fine job of putting together the samplings I have prepared for my first client of the day. I was only supposed to have three appointments, but my favorite wedding planner, Whitley Evans, called in asking a favor for her sister-in-law and her fiancé. And since I just catered Whitley’s wedding a few months ago, and she’s the absolute best, of course I snuck them in.
Well, she’s the best. Her wedding? Not so much. You don’t care to think back on weddings when you see men from your past you want to stab.
I grab the tray of appetizers I’m going to present, take a deep breath to get into potential client mode, and use my butt to bump open the kitchen door. I walk through the empty part of the restaurant that we use for tastings when I see a man sitting alone at a table.
“You must be Shane. Hi, I’m Charlie.” I set down the tray to shake his hand. ’I’m one of the sous chefs here, and if you pick us, I’d be the one cooking the food for your wedding.”
“Nice to meet you.” Shane’s words are accompanied with a forced smile, which I don’t think too much of. Most grooms don’t like doing wedding things, let alone by themselves.
“Just you today?” I ask, not wanting to assume anything. “Whitley wasn’t sure if it was going to be you or your fiancée as well.”
This seems to take Shane by surprise. “My fiancée is meeting with the florist today. You know Whitley?”
“I’ve worked with Whitley on a bunch of weddings, including her own. That’s how you guys got in here today with such short notice. Whitley called in a favor.”
“Interesting.”
I’m not sure what he means by that, but I don’t ask. “Okay, let’s get started with the appetizers.”
Something catches my eye at the entrance of the dining room, and I look up without even thinking.
I feel the color drain from my face, only to be quickly replaced by red-hot anger, as I see Simon Banks leaning against the wide opening. His arms are crossed, his smile is smug, and his eyes are twinkling with mischief.
“Hey, Bug.”
I spoke too soon. This day could, and did, just get worse.
