Blame It on the Bachelor

by Karen Kendall

  “And don’t you dare throw anything else on the floor,” she added. “Or I’ll push your face down into it and make you eat it, shattered crockery and all.”

  He made a rude gesture at her, but she ignored him and turned as all the groomsmen from Mark’s wedding, plus Dev’s parents, burst through the kitchen door, followed by a guy and two girls introduced as Dev’s brother and sisters.

  “Okay, everyone,” Kylie said. “We’re going to get dirty and sweaty, but we’re going to run this thing smoothly. Each of you grab a tray of soups. You need to hold the tray with one hand and arm underneath it, and the other hand at the edge to steady it. I warn you—the trays will be very heavy. Mr. and Mrs. McKee, may I suggest that you stay in here and keep an eye on his holy Swedishness over there?”

  They looked at each other and nodded.

  Bodvar had become a whirling dervish, heating sauces and flipping huge pans of the stuffed sole in and out of ovens and warmers.

  Dev grabbed a tray of soups and everyone else followed his lead. “Okay, guys. I’m going to deliver these and then steal a bartender from the other side, because one of the busboys took off with all the waiters.”

  “Dev,” Kylie said, “I know you want to help, but you need to be out there circulating among the guests.

  “Sí, Devonito. Out with you. Go and charm everyone,” his mother said. “We do this.”

  Dev looked at each and every one of them, his gaze lingering on Kylie’s face. “You guys, thank you. I cannot thank you enough—”

  “Shhhh, Dev. Get out there to the party.” Kylie took the tray from him and gave him a push.

  Then they all got to work. Kylie put the young waiter on dishwashing duty, which meant the remaining volunteers had to serve twenty tables of eight. They delivered all the avocado soup, returned to the kitchen and helped to assemble the crab-cake appetizers.

  “Remove the soup bowl from the left, serve the crab cakes from the right,” Kylie reminded them. “And whatever you do, don’t drip anything on the guests.”

  The amateur waiters were amazingly efficient, and somehow all of them worked together in the steamy, high-stress, aromatic kitchen to get the main courses plated and delivered to the diners, who, with only a couple of exceptions, were very happy with the food.

  One of the hotel heiresses sent back her fish, and the Boulder’s teenage daughter wanted her filet a little less pink in the middle. Kylie held her breath while Bodvar turned purple in the face, but to his credit he didn’t even curse or spit on the girl’s entrée. He muttered and threw it on the grill, asking sarcastically if she wanted him to pour ketchup on top before he sent it out again.

  And Dev’s parents might have an odd, dysfunctional relationship, but to her shock his family was stable—like him—and was pulling together to help him. Who could have known?

  Kylie peeked out of the porthole doors and saw Dev squeeze the pop star and pose for a photographer. Then he kissed her cheek and moved on to chat with the mayor. Satisfied that everything was going well, she gulped from a bottle of icy cold water, blotted her forehead and temples with a paper towel and looked ruefully down at her formerly gorgeous sea-foam-green dress, which was dotted and splotched with crab, remoulade and port wine sauce.

  She blotted up what she could, and then made a quick run to the ladies’ room. It was on her way back to the kitchen that she saw him.

  “Kylie?” The door to the men’s room literally hit her ex-fiancé in the butt as he gaped at her.

  She pushed her wilted hair out of her face and desperately wished that she’d touched up her lipstick and powdered her nose before leaving the bathroom.

  She glanced down at her dress again, in dismay. “Jack,” she said faintly. “What are you doing here?”

  25

  AS DESSERT AND coffee were served by his team of amazing friends and relatives, Dev made a speech that people later told him was urbane and witty and welcoming.

  All he knew was that he thanked everyone for coming to help him launch Bikini: The Restaurant. But while the words poured out of his mouth in some semblance of a logical sequence, he couldn’t take his eyes off Kylie. She’d pulled her hair back and she still wore her own silver sandals while she hustled tables and made sure everyone had everything they wanted.

  He could tell by the way she moved—gingerly—that her feet must be killing her, and no wonder: the spiked heels on those shoes had to be four inches high. But she was still graceful, still smiling, still performing with complete efficiency and as if she wanted to do nothing more in the world than schlep desserts and cappuccinos.

  In the middle of his big speech he realized that he was a hundred percent in love with her. Hopelessly, irretrievably, and utterly a goner.

  It had nothing to do with her looks or her physical attributes. It had nothing to do with great sex. It had everything to do with her heart and her take-no-prisoners attitude; the fact that she never let anything beat her.

  She’d walked into Mark’s rehearsal dinner upset and hurting, only to hold her head high and proposition Dev. And even when he’d found her sniffling in a closet, she hadn’t latched on to him as the next man to come along. No, she’d walked away without a backward glance. And then she’d given him hell when she thought he’d humiliated her.

  When she’d discovered that she had to deal with him professionally, had she made excuses? No, she’d bearded the lion in his den.

  Then she’d pulled the thorn out of the lion’s paw by straightening out his business affairs, and only okayed the second installment of his loan when she was positive that he was handling the money honestly and responsibly.

  Finally, she’d jumped in and saved the day this evening when all the waiters had left.

  Dev stood in front of all one hundred and sixty guests and said, “So. I’d like to thank every single one of you for coming tonight, and I hope you’ll revisit us often with your families, friends and business acquaintances.” He paused and waited for the audience’s clapping to subside.

  “Finally, I’d like to express my immeasurable gratitude to everyone who’s made this event possible. To the chef, to my regular staff, to my parents and friends, and to a very special lady here tonight from Sol Trust. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  Kylie blushed red from her neck to the roots of her hair and disappeared into the kitchen. But not before making eye contact with him.

  Dev stopped to chat with a few more people before making his way purposefully toward the back in search of her. He wanted to lay a big smacker right on her lips, lift her into the air and twirl around with her.

  Only after setting her down would he deck his temperamental, if extremely talented, chef. That could wait.

  Ciara approached him, her dark cap of hair shining, her hands full of extra goody bags. “Phew,” she said, “thanks to Kylie, everything went very well. And—” she hesitated “—there’s someone here to see you. Two people, actually. They’re up front.”

  She put down the bags and led him by the hand through the crowd. Dev’s heart pounded once, twice, and then lodged firmly in his throat. An older couple was silhouetted by the door, looking out of place and uncomfortable.

  They turned and met his eyes: Will’s parents. They were older and more care-worn, but it was them.

  He stopped in his tracks; he didn’t know who’d invited them. He hadn’t had the nerve, in the end.

  Will’s dad swallowed hard and then stuck out his hand.

  Dev took it, bemused.

  “Congratulations.”

  “Th-thank you, sir.”

  Will’s mother surged forward and folded Dev into her arms. “He’d be very proud of you, honey. Will would be here tonight.”

  Dev couldn’t control the tremors that racked his body. He couldn’t say a word. He just hugged her, hard, and tried to hold the tears back.

  “See to your other guests, Devon,” Will’s mom said, finally pulling away. She put her hand on his shoulder. “We’ll be in touch.�
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  All he could do was nod as he watched them walk away.

  “Ciara? What…? How…?”

  “Kylie called me and asked me to send them an invitation. So I did.”

  Dev nodded again. Then the words escaped his lips before he could retract them. “I’m going to marry her.”

  “You’re what?”

  “I’m going to marry Kylie. You wait and see.”

  “If she’ll have you,” his sister said acidly.

  “Trust me. I will spend my last breath talking her into it.”

  Dev didn’t see Kylie in the crowd. He pushed through the throngs of people to the kitchen to find her, but Kylie wasn’t there, either. He made for the double doors that led to where the restrooms were, and had pushed one six inches open when he heard Kylie say, “Jack. What are you doing here?”

  KYLIE STARED AT her ex, feeling discombobulated.

  “I’m in the bar with a friend,” Jack said. He looked ten years younger than he had when she’d seen him last. In those eight months, he’d lost a good twenty pounds, and there was color in his chiseled, handsome face. He wore a clean, pressed polo shirt and khaki pants instead of a grungy T-shirt and shorts with holes in them.

  By contrast, she was conscious of the fact that she smelled like a Clydesdale, her makeup had steamed off and she resembled a drowned rat. No woman wanted to run into her ex looking this way. But she stood her ground and maintained her dignity.

  “The men’s room in the bar is occupied. So I crossed over to use this one.” He was eyeing her strangely, and no wonder. “You look…good,” he said lamely. “I’ve actually been meaning to call you.”

  There was a shock. “Jack, you don’t have to lie. I look like absolute hell, but you would too if you’d been stuck in a restaurant kitchen and waiting tables.”

  “Why—”

  “I’m helping out a friend. The entire waitstaff quit right before the opening tonight, so a bunch of us are pitching in.” She shrugged.

  “You were always a trooper, Kylie,” Jack said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes. “I—Listen. I really screwed up with you. I got off-track. Mixed up.”

  “Yeah,” she said softly. “Well, it looks like you’re doing really well, now.”

  “I’m off the pills,” he said. “And, you know. The other.”

  “That’s great. That’s really great.”

  “I’ve been meaning to call. But I was embarrassed.”

  She wiped away some more sweat from her jaw, uncomfortable with the conversation. Uncomfortable around him. Weirded out, in fact. “Jack, you don’t have to be embarrassed. Nobody’s perfect. We all go through…things.”

  He nodded. “Thanks. I guess I want you to know that I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay, Jack.” And she was surprised to realize that it was. How strange was that? She found herself looking at his all-American, close-to-perfect features: the square jaw, the wide-spaced light-blue eyes, the prominent cheekbones.

  She’d kissed those lips, but couldn’t remember exactly how it felt to do that. She’d held his hand, but couldn’t feel much of a connection to him now. She felt wistful. Sorry for how things might have been. But was there anything else?

  She wasn’t sure.

  “Well, I’ve got to get moving,” she said cheerfully. “It was good seeing you.”

  “Will you let me take you to dinner next week, Kylie? I’d like to talk.”

  “Oh. Um…”

  “Just for old times’ sake?”

  She felt conflicted. She didn’t know if this was a good idea, but she had to get back to the kitchen, and didn’t want to be hurtful. So she took the easy way out. “Okay. Call me and we’ll figure out the details.”

  “Great,” Jack said. “That’s great.” Then, before she could dodge him, he leaned forward and gave her a quick kiss on the mouth. “Talk to you soon, babe.”

  Babe?

  “Uh-huh,” she said, then turned tail and ran back into the Ladies’ room.

  DEV FROZE BEHIND the kitchen door, something greasy and black sliding around in his stomach.

  The Jack-ass had kissed her. On the lips. And she was going out with him next week. Worse, Dev knew in his bones that it wasn’t for old times’ sake. The guy sounded like a born predator. Dev wished he could have seen his eyes, but Jack’s back had been to him.

  Kylie’s tone of voice had been soft, forgiving. Tender, even. She’d almost married this man. And even Dev, biased against the jerk, had to admit that the side of him he could see was tan and muscular and good-looking—if you liked the whole Aryan thing he had going. The douche bag probably highlighted his hair.

  Why would Kylie go out with him?

  Clearly she was still in love with the bottom-feeder.

  Between this catastrophe and seeing Will’s parents, his emotions were chaos. Dev followed blind instinct and habit.

  He headed straight for his office and the bottle of Black Label that waited for him inside. He locked the door behind him and found a big plastic cup.

  BY THE TIME he stumbled out, Dev was seeing double. Everything was blurry and swam in and out of focus as he made his way to use the facilities.

  Whoa…he was able to get his zipper down all right, but the gap in his pants kept moving and he had a helluva time getting his dick out. But then he figured out that there were two of them, so no wonder it had been tough.

  Dev looked down at them, very proud. He decided it could only be a good thing for a guy to have two dicks. It was double the urine storage and double the fun to be had with a girl. You also had a backup if anything went wrong with the first one, right?

  Now, the only problem with having two of the suckers was that it seemed to be extraordinarily hard to aim. Especially with a trick urinal that kept dancing around. It veered to the right, then it moved to the left. It even bounced up and down.

  Dev focused really, really hard on it, though, and was happy to say that he beat it. Not a single drop of liquid landed on any of his four shoes. He was a champ! He could take on any video game after this and kick some real ass.

  He managed to stow both of his penises into his pants, wash all eighteen—or was it twenty?—of his fingers and peer into the mirror. “Uncle Sam,” he said, pointing at his reflections, “wants you! Nope, you. No, wait. The first one of you.”

  For some reason, that was hilarious: Uncle Sam wanting any of him at all. Dev had to tell the guys about this. Oh, yeah, and he had a Swedish chef to kill.

  Then he was going to hunt down all the missing waiters and harness them to a sleigh. He’d make them fly him around to various rooftops as he lashed them with a whip and yelled, “Yah! Yah!”

  He stumbled out of the men’s room and barged into the kitchen like Clint Eastwood into a Wild West saloon. There was loud music playing. A bunch of people were washing dishes and drinking wine and putting away food in large containers.

  “Hi, ebryone!” Dev said.

  “Hey, Dev. Where you been?” His brother approached, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.

  “Tha’s top secret,” Dev announced, and then burst out laughing.

  Aidan took his arm. “Have you been drinking, bro?”

  “Only water. I schwear.” Dev laughed again. “C-can’t tell anyone.”

  “Right. Devvy, old man, I think I should drive you home.”

  “Nope. Gotta serve dessert first. Where’d it go? Hey, where’s the sheesecake? And the moushe—the mooshe, uh, the pudding shit?”

  “We served dessert an hour and a half ago. Then everyone left. You’re wasted, man.”

  But Dev had found and focused on the object of his affections. Kylie stood at the long, stainless-steel sink with Pete, their hands plunged up to the elbows in soapy water, washing pots and pans. Adam and Ciara were drying.

  Pete said something that made Kylie laugh, and she scooped a handful of bubbles and dropped them on his head. Pete returned the favor with a handful of bubbles to her nose, and K
ylie squealed, then sneezed.

  Dev swayed on his feet. Kylie had made a date with the Jack-ash. And now she was with Pete, his friend Pete. They looked like they were having way too good a time washing dishes. He was scrubbing her pot. She was scrubbing his pan.

  Pete could not have her. Pete was a very, very nice guy, but Dev was better and she was his. Kylie couldn’t date Pete. No way.

  Dev shuffled toward them on his four feet.

  Aidan sprinted after him and took his arm, but Dev shook him off.

  Ciara saw him coming and her face adopted that expression she used when she was worried. But she didn’t have any reason to worry. This would all be fine. He just had to convince Kylie that he was a better man than Pete.

  But Pete was a really, really nice guy. Everyone said so. How was he better than Pete? How could he convince Kylie that she should go out with him, Dev, and not his buddy with all the soap bubbles?

  And then the answer came to him. Of course! Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

  “Kylie,” he said loudly.

  She turned; so did Pete. “Hey, Dev. Where have you been hiding yourself?”

  “He’s zall wrong for you,” Dev declared.

  “Who is?” she asked. But she looked guilty.

  “Pete. And whass-hiss-face. But I am a prince among men. An’ you know what else?”

  She sighed. “What, Dev?” A peculiar expression on her face, now. But he needed to impart this vital information to her. Then she’d smile and come running. How could she not?

  He nodded, secure in this knowledge.

  He took a big step forward and spread his hands wide, magnanimously including the rest of his kitchen kingdom. Why shouldn’t they know, too? Everyone would be impressed.

  Dev took a deep breath and focused glassily on the woman whom he loved above all others. The woman whom he wished to bear his children. The woman who would soon be his future bride.

  “I have two dicks,” he announced proudly.