Page 280 of The First Taste

Red as a beet, I gulp. "Of course. Should I make the rounds of the dining room, then?"

He opens his mouth to berate me, his expression already antagonistic. But stops when a short, balding man in an expensive-looking suit gets up from the bench he was waiting on and walks towards us. The customer looks between me and Danny, his expression aggrieved.

"I was supposed to be seated ten minutes ago," he complains. "My date is very hungry. How long are we supposed to wait?"

Pursing my lips, I turn toward the customer and give him a bright smile. "I’m so sorry that you have been waiting. It looks like your name is next on the list." I run my finger down the waitlist on the computer screen, remembering his name from when he first checked in at the hostess stand. "Tanner, party of two. Right?"

The man scowls at me and crosses his arms. "That’s correct. I want to be taken to my seat now, if you don’t mind."

I gesture out toward the dining room. "As you can see, the whole dining room is full right now. But a few tables are finishing up right now. Again, I apologize for the delay."

"Well, what am I going to get for waiting?" He demands.

Danny cuts me a look and intercedes, putting his hand in between the customer and me. "Mr. Tanner, if you would like a complementary cocktail, I would be more than happy to go grab them for you right now."

"That’s not my name!" The customer says, his voice becoming louder. "That’s my date’s name. My name is Alex, and I want to sit down and eat right now. I see an empty table right there, too." He points to the chefs' table, a large twelve-person booth next to the host stand.

I jump in, trying to soothe him and explain to him at the same time that we have a special party booked for that table that will be here in ten minutes. The party has a reservation with a star next to it, indicating that the chef actually knows them. So, there is no way in hell that I can seat the complaining guest there.

"I’m sorry, sir. If you could just…"

The customer’s face grows red, and he balls his fists up. "If you don’t sit me at that table right now, I will rip you apart."

"Sir, she’s just trying to..."

"I don’t care what she is trying to do!" the customer screams.

My heart beats in my chest.

I don’t understand why anyone would make this big of a scene or what he could possibly hope to gain from yelling at us. Danny moves forward, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. The man bats at Danny’s hand, causing Danny to back away suddenly.

I look between the two men, trying to figure out the odds of a fight breaking out right here and now.

At that very moment, Dare decides to stroll in the front door of my restaurant. He is looking around and taking in the scene playing out before me.

As the customer starts yelling at Danny, Dare strolls over, arching a brow at me.

He looks down at me with a little smirk on his face. "You don’t have to be here," he says coolly. "Do you want to leave with me?"

In the heat of the moment, I swear that I have never been so happy to see Dare. I nod tightly, my jaw tensing. My eyes mist up.

Dare holds his arm out to me with a cruel smile on his lips.

Taking his arm is the only natural solution here. So I do, stepping out from behind the hostess stand.

Danny’s head whips around, taking note of Dare.

"What are you doing?" He thunders. "We’re dealing with a situation here."

I swallow, my hand flying up to my throat. My other hand instinctively covers my belly—a new experience of just what being pregnant will entail.

But Dare doesn’t wait for me to speak up. Instead, he snarls toward the two men, moving forward aggressively. They step back immediately, their eyes glued to Dare’s exposed teeth. A vague look of horror splashes across Danny’s face.

Without so much as another word, Dare guides me out of the front door. As we are leaving, Dare shouts back over his shoulder.

"She quits!"

"What?" Danny shouts. But soon his voice is muffled by the front door as it closes.