Page 9 of Pretty Desperate (Pine Village #6)

KAMERON

“ K am, your guest is here.”

I glance up from the grill, ignoring Veronica’s wide grin, and nod. “I’ll be right there.”

“I’ll send Nicholas over to get her a drink,” Veronica says before exiting the kitchen and returning to the dining room.

I put the finishing touches on dinner before plating our entrées and adding the sides. “You got this?” I ask Marlin, who just rolls his eyes.

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” he asks, practically pushing me out of the way to work on another order.

“I assume so, but I’ve never witnessed it,” I tell him, placing both plates on a tray.

Before I go anywhere, I wash my hands well.

I also take a moment to check over my appearance in the mirror above the sink.

There have been plenty of times where we have a splatter of this or a swipe of that across our faces.

We try not to touch anything, especially our skin, while cooking, but splatter happens.

“I’ll be in the dining room,” I tell him, retrieving the tray.

“Is she pretty?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

Now it’s my turn to offer an eye roll. “Stop being a Nosy Nelly.”

He barks out a laugh. “You haven’t had a date in two years, and I’m not supposed to be nosy? Get the hell out of here.”

Shaking my head, I ignore any further comments and head for the dining room.

Jillian is sitting in the back corner, a small four-person table offering the most privacy.

I figured this way we’d be able to talk openly without having people walk past every two seconds and overhearing.

And since I’m actually sharing a meal with someone of the opposite sex, people will be curious, especially my employees.

The first thing I notice as I approach the table is how pretty she looks.

Her dark hair is both up and down, with the top half pulled back to keep it out of her face.

She’s wearing blue jean capris and a fitted black shirt that accentuates her curves, and her feet are covered in some sort of strappy sandal.

Even in the dim lighting of the restaurant, I can see the light purple coloring on her toenails.

I never really thought of why women are so obsessed with painting their nails, but when I see her light purple ones, I get the appeal.

In my world, toes aren’t anything I ever want to see, but right now, I kinda want to see them wrapped around my neck as I do inappropriate—and very pleasurable—things to her body.

Clearing my throat as I reach the table, I offer a brief, “Good evening.”

“Hi,” she replies, almost shyly. Her green eyes move to the tray I’m carrying, and she adds, “Oh my heavens, that smells amazing.”

“Well, I hope it tastes as good as it smells.” I place the first plate down in front of her and the second at the other seat.

“Here you are, Jillian,” Nicholas says as he places a glass of red wine in front of her. “Can I get you a drink, boss?”

“I’ll have what she’s having,” I reply, even though I don’t usually drink while on the clock. But I’m the first one to admit when food and wine pairings are on point, the flavors of both are enhanced.

Nicholas nods, returning to the wine bar to retrieve my requested glass.

“What are we eating?” she asks as I take the empty seat across from her.

“This is steak au poivre with roasted red potatoes and steamed green beans. I took a chance that you’d be comfortable with that.

The steak is medium to medium well, so if you’d like me to grill it just a bit longer, I can do so.

You can always add more time on the grill, but you can’t take it back.

If I don’t know someone’s preference, I stick to a medium cook. ”

“That’s perfect, actually,” she replies, reaching for her fork and knife.

She slices into the cut of meat easily, which is one of the most important aspects of cooking.

If the meat isn’t a good cut, it doesn’t matter how amazing the recipe is.

I watch, waiting for her to take her first bite.

The fact she doesn’t think twice to eat what I put in front of her is a huge turn-on.

I know food, and she trusts me enough to not ask many questions.

It’s as if she knows her food is going to be exquisite.

Dipping the tip of her steak into the cream sauce, she takes a bite. “Oh my God,” she sings, covering her mouth with her napkin since she’s still chewing. Her eyes light up as the flavors hit her taste buds. She’s practically grinning as she chews and swallows.

I preen at her praise.

She takes a sip of her red wine. “What is it? The au poivre?”

Placing my own napkin in my lap, I reach for my silverware to slice into my own meat.

“It’s French. It’s a fresh peppercorn cream sauce made with cognac and cream.

The key is to keep the peppercorn from becoming overpowering.

You want it to flavor the meat and the sauce but not become the main ingredient. You want it to enhance the flavor.”

She stabs a piece of green bean with her fork and brings it to her mouth. “I think you accomplished that feat.”

“It took time to perfect the recipe, but it’s one of our most popular dishes.”

“I can see why,” she states.

Nicholas delivers my wine and tops off Jillian’s water glass. “Anything else I can get you two?”

I glance to Jillian, who shakes her head. “I think we’re set, Nicholas, thank you.”

He nods before heading off to another table.

“How was your day?” I ask, finding I truly want to hear the answer.

“It was good. I always enjoy the slower times after the busier tourist seasons, but it can be hard to adjust to making less product again.”

I nod, stabbing a piece of steak with my fork. “I understand that. I have to cut back on what I order, which does take some adjustment.”

“But you have a solid business. Even in the off-season, your parking lot is always full.”

The corners of my mouth curl up. “It’s taken some time, but yes, I have built a solid foundation.

The first few years were harder, that’s for sure.

But the people of Pine Village and surrounding towns have found the value in a nice sit-down restaurant.

The diner is great for comfort, homecooked food, usually when you’re on the go or have limited time.

Same with the Mexican restaurant. Everyone loves tacos.

Hell, I love them. I frequent both establishments too.

My steak house is a step above those. The meals more gourmet, the dining experience classier.

And the menu has been tailored to offer staples, like prime rib and filet mignon to other dishes that force a diner to step outside of their normal comfort zone. ”

“Like steak au poivre,” she says, smiling.

“Exactly.”

“But you still offer other things besides steak. I’ve had your stuffed chicken breast and honey-glazed pork chops before.”

I nod. “I do. Not everyone likes beef, so even though this is a steak house, and most of what I offer is beef-related, it’s important to have other choices too. Just no cheeseburgers. You wouldn’t believe how many times I get asked if I can whip one up real fast.”

Her eyes sparkle like emeralds as she laughs. “Really? I’d never ask for something not on the menu.”

I shrug. “I get it. The request is usually coming from someone under the age of sixteen.”

“Well, I think you have a great place here. The menu has a wonderful variety, and the food’s exquisite,” she says, taking another bite of her steak. “I’ve never had something I haven’t thoroughly enjoyed.”

“Thank you.”

She glances around, noticing how the restaurant is starting to fill up.

We only have twelve tables available, thanks to the smaller building.

Most tables are for parties of four, but there are a couple of two and six-seater tables.

We can comfortably seat a party of twelve together, but it really cuts into the open space.

In the summer or winter, when traffic is heavy with tourists, we can fill up quickly and that’s why this potential building expansion is so important to me.

Leaning forward, she drops her voice as she says, “I can see why you want the building next door.”

“If I kept this space for the rest of time I owned the restaurant, I would be content. But, I can admit, I want more. I can still grow this business without it becoming overwhelming. Adding the building next door would double our potential seating. Friday and Saturday nights, we wouldn’t have to turn away customers because we’re full. ”

“That’s a good problem to have,” she says with a little giggle, cutting into a roasted potato.

“It is, but I always feel bad. Especially when the dining room is full of out-of-towners, and someone local is trying to get in. That’s why we always recommend reservations during the busy season.

Summer isn’t quite as packed as the winter months, especially with people grilling out all the time, but they do finally get tired of burgers and dogs over the open fire and come into town for something different. ”

She nods in agreement. “Same. I have to count on those people getting tired of their eggs and coffee at the campgrounds and venturing into town for some of my pastries and gourmet coffee options.”

“See? We’re not so different after all,” I reply, holding her gaze.

We sit in comfortable silence for a minute, both enjoying the food in front of us.

I find Jillian’s company quite pleasant, even if we’re not filling every second of the time with words.

Unfortunately, there was a reason I invited her to join me, and we should get to it.

Now that the restaurant is picking up, I don’t want to leave Marlin alone for too long, and I know Jillian can’t stay all night, talking.

Clearing my throat, I say, “One of the reasons I invited you here was to get to know you a little better, but also to discuss Sunday.”

Jillian seems to sit up a little straighter in her seat as she reaches for her wine and takes a hearty sip. “Right.”