Chapter One
The second bite of the asparagus exploded with flavor in Zach Travis’s mouth. He had thought the first bite was the best thing he’d tasted in weeks, but this second bite bumped that into the months zone. How had he not even known this bistro, Du Jour, existed—and only a couple of blocks down the Riverwalk from his office at Crockett, Bowie, and Houston? Man, he’d be coming here every day if the sea bass and sweet potato fries next to the asparagus tasted even a fraction as good as they looked.
“This food is incredible. Best lunch I’ve had in San Antonio. Maybe anywhere.” He savored the fresh, creamy saltiness of the green stalk, basking in its deliciousness.
Then his eyes fell on Kinsey, and he stopped mid-chew. He’d been so caught up in the food that he’d barely noticed his lunch date, who clearly was not experiencing the same taste-bud ecstasy Zach was.
“What’s wrong, Kinsey?” He set down his fork and looked at her untouched plate. Her eyebrows were pinching together and her chin was down. “You all right?”
“No, I’m not all right.” She spoke the words too loudly and folded her arms across her chest. “Did you not hear me tell the waiter I needed my food non-dairy? That means without butter or béchamel sauce. Hello!” With that, she grabbed the waiter by his apron as he passed carrying some empty plates—plates that looked like they’d been licked clean, just as Zach intended to do to get every atom of food off his own plate.
“Listen, server,” she hissed. Kinsey was more than upset; she was a cracked radiator ready to blow.
“Kinsey.” Zach reached over and loosed her hand from the guy’s apron. He lowered his voice. “It’s not his fault. He told us the kitchen only makes one meal per day. That’s the whole gimmick of this place. They make it, you take it.” And enjoy it to high heaven.
“I never heard of a place with no substitutions.” She turned to the wait staff guy again. “I specifically said no dairy and no seafood.”
Zach sat blinking at her. It was like everyone else’s words had bounced off her brain. How could she order Chilean sea bass and say no seafood? And the asparagus wouldn’t be the asparagus without this sauce, but with which it should be the national vegetable.
Weird. Kinsey had seemed pretty cool on their first couple of dates: the concert in the park and the tour of the Alamo. However, at lunch today, the third date curse hit, where Bizarro Kinsey appeared, displacing the happy go lucky girl.
Actually, he could add the prefix Bizarro before any of his recent dates’ names. The third date was only the charm when it came to realizing a woman was not what she pretended to be up front.
“I mean, how are you going to account for people with food allergies?”
“Allergies? You’ve never mentioned any allergies before now.”
She gave him a petulant frown.
“Yes, ma’am?” The waiter was sweating. “Is there something I can do to improve your dining experience, ma’am?”
“I’m not a ma’am, for one. And no. In fact, I’m already mentally composing my one-star review to post online. Rude staff, unaccommodating kitchen, completely non-user-friendly format. I mean, seriously? One dish, and no choices, and nothing done to adjust for a customer’s needs? You are incompetent!” She threw her napkin on the plate, as if she’d made her case and the guy deserved not just firing but a firing squad. Zach’s neck twitched. He’d dated some high maintenance women now and then, but Kinsey was not just topping that chart, she was creating new charts all over the place—from Most Insensitive to Biggest Brat.
Zach glanced around the restaurant. There weren’t many customers, but it was late for lunch, nearly two. He’d had a hearing down at the courthouse and couldn’t get away at noon. Only one other customer remained, and she was staring at them, probably because Kinsey’s voice had risen into the rafters.
Whoa. He took a second glance at the other customer. She was gorgeous. Look at those huge eyes. Wow. He’d never seen a shade of green like that. Well, except maybe in this…asparagus?
Great, Kinsey’s crazy had infected him and now he was comparing a woman’s eyes to a vegetable.
“I’m thoroughly disappointed in this entire dining experience,” Kinsey said with an imperious shake of long hair Zach used to think looked pretty. “And you’re sloppy.” Kinsey flicked a speck off the edge of the table.
The server handled it well, but his face told of his distress.
“I’ll just take that.” He reached down and took both their plates, Zach’s heart leaping out of his chest as he watched the fish he hadn’t even tasted yet sail out of reach—possibly forever, since this place didn’t have a set menu and made something new every day.
When the food was gone, Kinsey sat back, looking smug.
“That’s how you get good service.”
Uh, what?
“Just wait. They’ll offer us a free dessert.” She smoothed her napkin on her lap, while Zach stared, dumbfounded.
“Geez, Kinsey.” He leaned in and asked in a softer voice, “Are you kidding me?”
“They refused to serve me the food I ordered.” Her eyes shot to the ceiling and then back to Zach.
“But you’re not allergic to dairy.” Zach blinked fast, processing the lie. Zach dealt with people’s lies all the time, but he didn’t have any need for it in dating situations. Ire crawled up his spine in a hot tingle.
“I know, but it’s none of their business whether I am or not.”
Three long blinks of disbelief later, his cool came back and he could speak.
“You know, my Grandma Vada told me something a long time ago—about relationships.”
Kinsey leaned forward, elbows on the table and chin on her hands.
“Oh, the R word. I am so glad you’re bringing that up finally.”
“I’m pretty sure we’re not on the same page.”
Kinsey shouldn’t have looked as shocked as she did.
“Wait, Zach. What are you talking about? You’re bringing up family stories. We’re dating.”
“Dating! This is our third time seeing each other, and our first time sharing a meal together.” Although, this one shouldn’t count, since Kinsey’s whining got Zach’s amazing food removed before he could even eat it. “I ate more meals with Bobby Joe Underhill in my elementary school.”
He glanced over at the girl at the corner table, who was watching them openly now, eating sweet potato fries like they were popcorn and he and Kinsey were the movie screen. Something inside him shouted that he had to get rid of this dead weight and go find out more about that girl over there. Those eyes!
“But what about your grandma? Grandma Vada? You’re going to introduce me. You just said so.”
“What I was saying was that my Grandma Vada taught me you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat a waiter.” He paused and let that sink in.
After a second, she said, “I treat them like everyone does.”
“Not everyone.” He frowned and pushed away from the table, ready to cut her loose.
“Are you saying I mistreated someone? I don’t know what you’re talking about. We don’t even have a waitress. We’ve got this excuse for service instead.” She aimed a thumb over her shoulder at the kid who’d served them and was now wiping down a countertop and then sniffed haughtily. “Are you lecturing me? Just because we’re dating and you’re used to standing up in court and telling everyone what they should do or think it doesn’t mean you can tell me.”
Uh-huh. It was like the layers of makeup and hair color and nice clothes and pretty skin had all peeled back and revealed exactly what she was made of inside.
“Oh, Zach, sweetie. Let’s forget about him. Let’s talk about us. You must have seen I changed my status online this morning to involved. I tagged you.”
Whoa, there. Zach’s head spun twice. “Well, you’d better uninvolve us right now.”
Kinsey sat back. “What are you saying? Are you dumping me? Over this?” She waved her hand around the room.
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br /> “I can tell Grandma Vada was right.” So right.
Kinsey grabbed her purse from where it hung on the back of her chair and shoved the strap over her shoulder.
“I don’t have to take this. I’m from Oregon.” She huffed and marched out of the café. The waiter whisked up behind her and flipped the OPEN sign around to read CLOSED.
Zach exhaled. Good riddance. His eyes shot to where the girl in the corner sat. She was still staring at him, an amused quirk on her lips. Humiliation subverted, something compelled him to walk over to her. He had to at least find out who she was, this girl with the huge eyes and the strand of connection to his soul.
Please let her be single.
∞∞∞
Piper gazed with sheer admiration at the gorgeous, broad-shouldered man across the restaurant. They didn’t come any better than that. She sighed.
Maybe he’d heard her, because he looked Piper’s way. When their eyes met, Piper’s chest exploded like she’d dropped her plugged-in, running hand mixer into the sink and reached for it.
Paralyzed, she couldn’t look away from him for a long time.
The guy announced to his date that the meal Piper had made was the best lunch in San Antonio, and she’d begun eavesdropping. How could a chef help it? After all, it was a Chilean sea bass she’d poured more love into than almost any other meal she’d made since opening Du Jour, so to have him appreciate it sent her into a happiness vortex.
At that point his status went from good-looking customer to Piper’s favorite diner of the week.
However, his date was sure being a witch. The woman berated innocent server Garrett for no reason, and Piper winced. Poor Garrett. He didn’t deserve that. The woman was only complaining about stuff Garrett had no control over, and that she should have known going in. It was like people who gave an advertised family drama movie one star because it wasn’t an action thriller.
Piper pushed back her chair to go try to make things right. She’d hate to lose customer of the week since his date was unhappy. Maybe she could offer them a gift certificate, or—
But before she could intervene, the guy spoke up against the girl, defending Garrett.
Wow. Nice. Almost unprecedented. In fact, he just leapfrogged from favorite customer to hero status.
Now Piper really needed to go over and repair any breach, to make sure this guy came back again and again. Gift certificate? Late or early opening for a private dining experience? Allowing him to request a favorite meal that she’d make for the day?
While she considered her options, the real kicker came: he told that girl to hit the road. At that moment he’d exited hero class, and upgraded from mere human. In fact, he began to glow like a Greek god. Angels redirected their voices from the cathedral down the Riverwalk and sang in his general direction.
They didn’t come all prepackaged like that guy very often. No, indeed.
Today, boy, did Piper know it more than ever. She rested her chin on her hand and smirked.
Thanks a lot, Chad.
She peeled her eyes off the gorgeous guy and looked down at the two place settings on her own table, disillusionment depressing her appetite. The fish on Chad’s untouched plate across from Piper’s was getting cold, and the asparagus had been glacial for at least ten minutes. Twenty minutes she’d been waiting for Chad to show up.
I even made his request.
Chad. Sometimes her boyfriend’s name felt synonymous with disappointment. Things between them had started out so well last fall, a few months after Mom and Dad left the country. They had a slow burn thing going, which she really appreciated, after getting pressed to move things along too fast by a lot of guys, including that stalker Mike. Even more, she liked that Chad lived such a steady life as an accountant downtown. Up until a few weeks ago, she would have considered them on a slow track, if not a fast track, toward marriage.
Sort of.
She checked the time. Where was the guy?
Maybe he had a good excuse. She checked her phone. There were no texts or missed calls.
Meanwhile, Piper’s eyes strayed back to the gorgeous guy. His now-absent harpy lunch date had called him Zach. Not that Piper was eavesdropping the whole time—okay, fine. She was. He looked like a Zach. Mmm. She’d known a few Zachs back in school, and he looked like a mixture of all of them: tall, dark, ruggedly handsome, but with his own nice countenance.
She sent up a silent cheer when he dismissed his date, sent her packing out into the San Antonio springtime. Good riddance.
Zach, what a nice name.
The woman had also mentioned Zach bossed people around in court, so what did that make him? A bailiff, maybe? Naw, he totally dressed like a lawyer. Before now, Piper had never realized it, but she might have a thing for lawyers, lawyers with very sharp dress shirts and ties—like Zach’s.
Her chin slid off her palm when her elbow fell off the edge of the table. It probably got slippery in the pool of drool she was leaving as she stared at him.
Holy moly! Piper jerked her spine upright, her mouth going dry as yesterday’s croutons. This Zach guy? He was walking toward her, his saunter casual and confident and the kind she couldn’t take her eyes off.
Obviously.
Then their eyes met, and that same electric pulse from earlier when he’d caught her staring slammed through every circuit in her body. It paralyzed her again.
Zach ran a finger around his collar.
“I need to apologize,” he said in a voice that was both sonorous and deep, the kind that made her knees weaken and her eyes glaze over. “I’m really sorry you had to hear all that. I ruined your lunch—you didn’t even eat any of it.”
He put one hand against the wall and leaned, which highlighted where his shirt pressed tight to his bicep. She was a sucker for a bicep. Forget all those six-pack abs guys. She liked her muscles old school. Maybe he had nice triceps in there, too.
“Will you let me pay for your meal?” He glanced down at her table. “Er, meals?”
Meals? Her eyes flicked down to where both plates sat untouched, accusing her of being stood up for lunch. Her face flushed with a heat that spread to her chest. Stupid Chad.
“No, thanks. I mean—I’ve got it.” Shame burned her cheeks.
Zach didn’t seem to notice.
“Then let me take you to dinner sometime? It’s the least I can do.”
Humiliation stung deep. She glanced at the embossed wallpaper to calm herself. She and Constance had hung it themselves last year. Its pattern soothed her. She breathed in and out.
Chad might have a really good excuse for not coming today and for not tasting the Chilean sea bass with fresh garlic butter that she’d planned Du Jour’s entire menu around today. He might. And then he’d probably expect her to go to dinner with him, or make him dinner, or something.
Zach’s eyes landed on her left hand, and then he nodded.
“Oh, boyfriend. Gotcha.”
Holy sea bass. He’d checked for a ring. She could melt here and now, more liquefied than this garlic butter. Which was—oh, great— congealing on her plate now, thanks to her so-called boyfriend.
“Yeah.”
Zach scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah,” he said with a wince, as if remembering his own significant other’s recent performance.
“Don’t worry about it.” Piper stood up. “I mean, she’s from Oregon.”
“Yes, which exempts her from criticism of any kind.” Zach shook his head, and their eyes connected again, that spark zapping like a live wire. “But you’re not from Oregon. Not with that accent.”
His phone buzzed, and his shoulders fell, as if he was disappointed to cut things short but had no choice. He answered it, turning away before she could give her well-rehearsed speech about her accent—My parents are from New Zealand. I was born here, but I must have picked up some bits of New Zealand from them around home.
He placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered to her, “I’m sorry. See you around.”
While giving phone-assenting-grunts, he wove his way through the dining room back over to his table, where he pulled out his wallet and dropped some bills before heading out the front door.
He turned one last time and said, “See you around.”
Her heart went all haywire for a second. Merciful heavens above let him see me around soon.
But then she glanced at Chad’s cold fish and frowned.
Chad.
Garrett flashed out of the kitchen and cleared away Zach and Kinsey’s remaining water glasses, muttering until his eyes fell on the money. Then he bobbled the water glasses.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” He gulped visibly. “That guy left me a two hundred dollar tip.”
Yeah, and he left without getting my number.
Chapter Two
Scrubbing his cheek with the palm of his hand as hard as he could, Zach tried purging that lunch from his mind. Not the lunch lunch. That was great. That asparagus should be served the next time the Queen of England visited the U.S.
What he wanted to scrub was Kinsey’s total witch-morph and his own stupidity in front of the girl whose lunch he’d ruined.
Zach weaved through the hordes of tourists with baby strollers on his way back to Crockett, Bowie, and Houston’s high tower of law.
Wow, that girl was pretty. And those eyes. He’d like to print their image on his mind and have it be the screen saver every time he blinked.
Too bad she had a boyfriend.
Then again, maybe that didn’t matter. Zach was a catch, right? Girls generally chased him—girls he didn’t want, but there were times he had to beat them off with a stick. At least there had been when he used to get out into the social scene more, before the insane hours at Crockett, Bowie, and Houston shanghaied his life.
What was that tangy accent she’d used? It didn’t sound British. There wasn’t much of it, only a hint. But it had been enough to hold him spellbound. Geez, what was wrong with him today? He never went this obsessive over a girl he’d barely talked to. Maybe the food from the restaurant had done a number on him.
No, she’d dazzled him.
Legally in Love Boxed Set 1 Page 39