Page 65 of My Forbidden Boss

My head pulled back to nod, but my neck remained rigid. Hollis’s smile relaxed as he saw this, and again, he led the way. “We can enjoy our coffee, and you can tell me which of these dessert things you like the best. Yeah?”

My shoulders loosened, and I quietly whispered, the words falling without conviction. “ Yeah.”

Hollis made an effort to imbue happiness. “Okay?”

I smiled weakly and finally nodded. “Okay.”

Hours later and we were still seated, back to filling the area around us full of our back and forth banter and barrels of shared laughter. The two of us had long since explored all of the delicious desserts, later forgoing whatever dregs remained of our coffee and opting for a trip back to the wine, circling between us those bottles which had survived our initial sampling during dinner with still a few more glasses yet to offer.

As the echoes of our chuckling and giggles trailed into a comfortable silence, my eyes danced over the table’s small stack of dirtied platters still sitting at the corner. The last crumbs of sweet cakes and puddles of melted iced custards were still visible, splashes of abstract color atop the smooth ceramic plates. I realized just how long it had been since I had seen any restaurant staff, previously so attentive.

I wondered where the check guy was hiding and even glanced around the patio, but there wasn’t another soul in sight. As Hollis took our two glasses and divvied up the last of the wine, evenly emptying the decanter between them, I finally felt just how late it must be and mentioned that we were still waiting for the bill.

He looked at me skeptically and aloof. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that.”

“What? No!”

I should have brought it up more politically but wasn’t exactly sober enough to consider such thoughts. “I had this whole plan… I was finally going to let you take me to dinner, but then jump in and pay for everything.”

His eyebrows raised as I described my scheme and discarded any and all secrecy it once might have included. Still, Hollis’s expression just retained his usual bemusement.

“Uh… You must have missed it?”

I scoffed. “There’s no way that they brought it already. I’m drunk, not blind. I even went ahead and took my card from my purse when you went to grab the wine stash. I’ve been holding it in my lap this whole time!”

My vexation grew, as did suspicious irritation as Hollis took on a self-satisfied look and leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers behind his head and practically lounging as he watched my tantrum.

He noticed my tonal shift, not that it was difficult. “What are you mad at me for? Are you trying to figure out when I had you duped?”

“Did you take care of it when you got the wine?”

He shook his head, amused.

“Hollis, goddammit, where is it?!”

He shrugged, “It doesn’t exist. It never did.”

“What the fuck does that mean?! How could it not exist? Stop your stupid smirking and tell me what you mean by, ‘It doesn’t…?’”

Recognition dawned. My eyes widened with understanding before sharply narrowing into slits of slaughter, their blue brilliance most likely pierced with frozen fury.

“You own this motherfucking restaurant?!”

He smirked and shrugged without a care in the world. What he should have been doing was pondering whether or not he was about to be murdered in his own damn establishment.

“Yeah… I gave a salute to the chef and sommelier a long, long time ago. They poked their heads out right over there behind you when the staff was dropping off our coffee and dessert, waving to say goodnight before they left. I wasn’t hiding it, but I guess you didn’t pick up on that. Normally, I would have introduced you, but I had something else on my mind, if you remember.”

Both of us blushed, if only a little. I was too pissed off at him to speak a word.

Hollis smiled. “Sweetheart, you and I have had the whole place to ourselves for forever. I don’t know exactly how long, but it has at least been a few hours.”

I fumed, but Hollis was quick to offer peace between us.

“How about another deal?”

I gave him a look of disappointment but curtailed my curiosity.

“Don’t be mad, Tisha. There’s no way I would have let you pay for anything, anyway. But here’s what I propose: We are free to head back to the cottage whenever we want. I’m fine with staying or going… just let me know when you’d like to leave. But how about we do this? I’ll agree to give you a personal tour through the wine cellar if you’ll agree to do the honors, picking out which bottle we should share back at the cottage as a nightcap.”

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