Page 3 of Wild Flower

“Just because you decided to tie yourself down to a ball and chain, doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t have fun.”

“That ball and chain will fire your ass if you’re anything but a gentleman.”

“I’m always on my best behavior,” I sass, taking the tray with a smirk. “Remember that orientation pep-talk where your ball and chain told us that Flambé’s food equals sex? I’m following the handbook to a T. Every patron is supposed to feel cherished and special,” I quote, before adding, “and preferably turned on.”

“By the food, asshole,” Connor admonishes. “I’m not going to bat for you if that drink ends up in your face.”

“It won’t. Especially if you made her a drink that makes her feelspecial and cherished,” I spar, throwing the proverbial handbook back at him. “A woman’s lips always look better covered in alcohol, don’t you think?”

“Don’t touch the patrons!” Connor growls, sounding too much like his girlfriend’s lacky.

“What if they touch me?” I ask with faux innocence.

“Make sure it’s after hours.”

I give Conner a wicked grin like that’s a cute suggestion. “Legend has it you were once a free man,” I tease. “Just because you hung up your hat, doesn’t mean you have to clip the rest of our wings.”

“Don’t make me sic the Dragon on you.” He points again in warning.

“Where’s your bro-code, Connor? You’re supposed to be my wing man.”

“I made you the damn drink, didn’t I?” He motions to the tiny coupe on my tray. He has a point. There’s something about a custom cocktail from Connor that has a way of making a woman’s inhibitions slide down the drain. I don’t mean that in a creepy way. He doesn’t drug anyone. Connor just knows what a patron needs, and he puts it into a drink in the form of alcohol and fruit like a hidden secret. It’s a talent that tamed the Dragon, and one I thoroughly respect.

I give Connor an appreciative nod, before heading for the dining room. If I’m lucky, he’ll think I’m full of shit. If I’m not, he’ll sic Arie on me, telling her towelcome the patrons, which is code for babysit. It just means Finn and I have to be discreet. Because I’m not missing this opportunity.

“Tell me where,” Finn’s voice comes from over my shoulder, and I nod for him to follow me to the side of the dining room.

“Table sixteen” I say, nodding to the corner table in a swath of dark. “You can’t miss her.”

The woman I’ve been eyeing is stunning. She’s a classy goth queen, but sexy, not an over make-up-ed Halloween priestess. Her long hair is silver white and black at the roots, and it looks like she walked out of a drawing by Alphonse Mucha. Every strand of hair is carefully placed: a large braid curling across her crown, Mother of Dragons style, while the rest flows in a cascade of waves. I wouldn’t be surprised if large-winged lizards flew to the top of the Atlantis resort and waited on the patio to take her home after dinner. Or maybe I’m just hoping she’s the kind of woman who can walk through fire untouched.

A smile hitches Finn’s mouth as he takes in her sleeveless, corset-style cocktail dress. It’s glittery on top and silky on the bottom. Her low, scooping neckline highlighting the ink that tattoos her pale skin. She’s a garden of botanical tattoos who should be lounging in a field of lilies, every stalk and petal grown in the perfect Art Nouveau curve to accentuate her elegance. Her make-up is dark and smoky with the perfect kiss of charcoal over her eyelids, reminding me of Japanese ink paintings.

“Someone’s photographer brain just woke up, didn’t it?” I tease, referencing what Finn is studying at the university. “It looks like your muse just walked in.” Finn nods, not really listing. He’s completely entranced by this woman. “And she doesn’t have a date.”

“Single? Or did the boyfriend stand her up?”

“Single,” I confirm. “The best friend is very chatty. And”—I nod to the best friend who’s sucking face with her date—“Our pretty little flower has literally been watching those two make out for half an hour.”

“Seriously?” Finn frowns. “Those are some shit friends.”

“That’s Flambé for you,” I correct. “It makes you … try new things.”

Finn’s eye catches mine, and he can’t hide the devilish smile that plays upon his face.

“Patience.” I wink, lifting up the cocktail Connor made. “One step at a time.”

I pat Finn on the shoulder, before heading toward the woman’s table, cocktail in hand. Nobody likes to be the third wheel at the sexiest restaurant in Waikiki, and when that third wheel is the most beautiful, unique woman I’ve ever seen … well, the handbookdidsay to make the patrons feel cherished and special.

I just have my own way of making that a reality.

3

BECCA

Igaze at the periwinkle cocktail that’s been slid in front of me and cross my legs. That prickle of heat is a false start. I’m sure of it. I’ve been fooled by gorgeous eyes and nice smiles before. This isn’t different.

The drink is the color of hydrangeas in spring, and at the center of the glass is a large ice cube garnished with a spiced round of lemon. A dramatic feather swoops out of the cocktail like a rogue wisteria vine, a dangerous addition if the waiter’s going to set the drink on fire.

---