Page 32 of Two Sticky Nuts

A text rolls in with an address. I look it up, and it’s the expensive French fusion place downtown. I know it because Larry and Dick like to take big clients there to woo them. I’ve never been. Way above my pay grade.

I’m about to decline, but then I think of Logan’s incredibly sexy vibes.That walk… Like he owns the world.He definitely had this way about him—a confident masculinity, a subtle air of strength, but with a generous heart.I think…I like him.

Maybe I should go.

I don’t reply to the text, just in case I lose my nerve, but my first stop is my closet.

“Crap! Nothing?” I have casual work attire, but no nice-nice outfits. I grab my keys, hoping I get to the boutique before they close. It’s a little place I found with cute dresses for people on a budget.

Wait. No.I should just go to TJs. Get something sensible and conservative I can wear anytime. But what I really want is to look my best tonight. I want to look sexy.

Stop being silly.Logan isn’t going to be into me. Look at the man.

Two hours later, I’m walking into Chez M. Jean, tugging on the back of my dress while also trying to be inconspicuous about my thong situation.Get. Out. Of. My. Crack. You evil string…

I pick it out with a snap, fairly sure the valet guys just saw me pick my ass before the front door closed behind me.

I walk up to the host, who’s standing behind a podium in a tux.

“Hi, I’m supposed to be meeting Logan Strike,” I say.

“Ah, Mr. Strike.” The host smiles. “Yes, he called ahead and mentioned you might show up. I can show you to your table. I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”

“He’s not here?” It’s just after eight.

“I am afraid not, madam. But he said to ensure you were seated, served champagne, and pampered in every possible way while you wait.”

Well, crap. I really want to leave, because how rude of him not to be here, but he did make arrangements to keep me in bubbly while I wait. “Okay, but if he’s later than twenty minutes, I’m not staying.”

The host’s eyes go wide with panic.

“Is he going to be longer than that?” I ask.

“I do not know, madam, but Mr. Strike made it clear,” he leans in close to whisper, “that he would have my ass fired if you left before he arrived.”

That’s not very nice. I mean, what does the host have to do with my free will? It’s a little heavy-handed.

I sigh. “I’ll stay as long as I can, but I’m not about to sit alone drinking all night.”

“Ah! I have the perfect solution. Madam shall not be alone.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Really? You spent six years cooking for the king of Tavolara?” I have no clue who that is.

“Oui!” proclaims Chef Jean. “It is there that I perfected my famous pig in a blanket.”

“You mean those little sausages wrapped in bacon?” Doesn’t sound very French.

“No, no. I cook an entire pig wrapped in a delicate layer of fragrant petals from the vanilla orchid.”

“I’m not sure what that is.”

“May I?” He points to my phone.

“Sure.” I unlock it and hand it over.

He searches for something and then shows me the pic. The flower is bright pink and looks like a vagina.

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