Chapter 3
Rick trickled another pour from the bottle into Kate's glass and watched as disbelief took hold of her and settled in. First it was her shoulders, now all but wedged beneath her ears, followed by her jaw, which had dropped a good inch.
The word matchmaker had just come out of his mouth-his third and final guess in a game she couldn't possibly have lost-and it was as incomprehensible a thing as she'd ever heard.
"How the hell did…?" she thought aloud at barely a whisper, her mouth's movement so subtle it surely would've impressed even the most skilled of ventriloquists.
"What can I say? Some people are good at math. I'm good at reading-reading people, that is. It's like my weird party trick." His eyes flashed to the mint still sitting in front of her. "That and I'm the champion of Blindfolded Twister," he added with a smirk. "My hands always end up in the right places."
Kate snatched up the candy after another spell of shooting daggers its way. "Fine," she huffed, "let's just get this over with so I can leave." She began to untwist the ends of the wrapper but stopped midway, tossed it back onto the table. "You know what, forget the mint. You don't deserve it."
"And here I was imagining you were good at everything. I guess I can cross losing off the list," Rick teased. "You know, you might just enjoy it. I sure haven't had a lot of complaints."
She couldn't even look at him she was so angry, but it wasn't even really him she was so angry at. It was the tiny part of her that'd wanted to lose that infuriated, the part that'd wanted what he'd so outrageously used as bait, which she'd swallowed hook, line, and sinker.
"Whatever," she said and got up out of her chair, wedged her clutch between her elbow and her ribs in preparation for a speedy getaway once her price had been paid.
Rick slid from the booth and came around the table, met her where she stood, neither uttering a word as he closed their distance with a step, feathered a hand down her arm, and gently wreathed her wrist with his fingers.
Slowly he pushed in, and with intention found not her lips but her cheek, which he pressed a soft kiss against before floating a plea into her ear.
"I'm not ready to have to watch you walk out of here. Stay for a little while longer. Please."
When he pulled back, his two-day scruff left Kate's skin with a delicious tickle and her pulse with a spike. She took a dive into his eyes and swam a moment, allowing herself an unhurried lap to try and settle from the weapon that was the smoke of his voice, but the effort was futile. They were just as powerful.
"I'll have you know I'm a perfectly good loser," she managed eventually, "and I'd kick your ass at Blindfolded Twister."
"I look forward to that," he said, and recognizing the sliver of an opening, reached for his jacket and the bottle of wine without further ado. "Let's get out of here." Finding himself on the receiving end of a scowl, he clarified. "I do like where your head's at, but that's not what I meant. Come with me."
Through the maze of tables and a set of swinging doors, he led her into the restaurant's kitchen.
"What are we doing back here?" Kate understood he owned the place, but it still felt out-of-bounds somehow, like sneaking behind the Wizard's curtain.
"Sammy, Georgio, Ian, Alessandro, this is Kate. Kate, meet my magicians. Best kitchen crew in the city."
Kate gave the motley team of men a sort of half wave.
"Well, aren't you just a slice of heaven. What the hell are you doin' with the likes of his ugly mug, huh?" Georgio, the eldest of the bunch and the one who possessed the least shame, won a cackle from the others. "I kid, boss, I kid," he assured Rick, "but I do have a damn fine-looking son I could introduce you to, Kate. Chip off the old block," he threw in with a wink.
A small table was set up against the far wall with two stools tucked beneath, where Rick left the bottle and his jacket then crossed back for Kate.
"I'm pretty sure you meant blockhead, G-man," Rick razzed. "Come, sit," he told Kate with an indulgent brush of her arm. "You're a fan of dessert, right? What romantic isn't a fan of dessert?"
"I guess I am, yeah."
She then watched as he bounded off toward what she realized was the walk-in refrigerator, ducked inside, and emerged shortly thereafter with a tall stack of containers pinned precariously beneath his chin.
He carried them all back to the table and arranged them in a circle, with the wine bottle anchored in the middle like the eye of some Tupperware daisy. Peeling back the lids, he revealed a variety of cakes hidden beneath, each missing some part of its whole, yet each still a work of art despite its void.
"Pick one," Rick said. "Or two. Try them all. Whatever you want."
"Cheesecake!" Alessandro hollered from across the way.
"It's raspberry and white chocolate," Rick informed in a lustful tone. "It's almost better than…" The pair locked eyes. "Almost."
Kate's mind was a swirl of delight and doubt. She didn't know why she was still there, or how she'd even let herself get there for that matter, but she foresaw her impending hangover worsening by the minute, and it would have nothing to do with the wine.
"I'm not sure which. They all look incredible. What are you going to have?"
"I thought it might be fun to share. No pressure. It'll be like our own dessert version of Lady and the Tramp."
"Do the ladies really fall for that corny stuff, boss?" Georgio interjected. "My son owns his own plumbing business, Kate. There's good money in pipes. I'm just sayin'."
"I bet there is," she replied with a blush of a smile. "You know, I'm sure he's a great guy, but I'm not really looking to meet anyone right now."
The silver-haired man with the leathery skin and the curled shoulders of his age shrugged. "Had to try. I swear, the kid can't catch a break," he mumbled and returned to his work.
"I think you might've crushed him," Rick remarked playfully. "I hope I never have to know what it's like to have my heart broken by someone like you."
"Is that right? And what exactly is it you think I'm like after knowing me for all of five seconds?"
He pulled his stool out from under the table to sit. "Like no one," he said before blurting out something about forks and stepping away again.
One of his crew handed over some silverware, and the entire group shared a chuckle, over what Kate couldn't hear, but every eye in the room seemed to be on her as he made his return, with the smile born of whatever it was that'd amused still firmly in place.
"What's wrong?" He finally took his place opposite her. "For a woman seated at a table covered with cake, that's not a happy face. For the record," he followed, presenting her with a fork and a spoon to choose from, "your face makes me very happy. Sorry, I know, the comment thing. In my defense, it is all your fault."
The crinkle in Kate's forehead softened and reappeared around her eyes. She swiped the spoon from Rick's fingers, inched nearer to her the container that held whatever delectation was glazed with chocolate ganache.
From beneath her lashes, she could see the whole lot across the room remained fully absorbed in what was going on at the table, like they were waiting for the thing they knew was about to happen to happen.
"They're all staring." Again, her lips barely moved, that time deliberately so. "Am I missing something?"
"Like what?" Rick asked, opting for Alessandro's beloved cheesecake after some tough deliberation. "Would you like me to-"
"No, thank you," she cut in and relieved him of the cake server. "What was so funny? You went over there to get the forks and you all laughed. Now they won't stop staring."
Rick waited his turn and then plopped his slice onto his plate with a bubbling glee.
"Do you think we were talking about you or something? That's a little paranoid, isn't it? I mean, we were, but…I'm happy to tell you what was said. I'd really like to watch you take a bite of that first, though. It's dark chocolate bourbon, and it should be illegal."
An admirer of both, the heightened anticipation made Kate's mouth begin to water.
"Is this why you own a restaurant, for the free dessert?"
"No, no, that'd be silly. This part's just one of the bonuses." He dropped his fork into the cheesecake and scooped up a healthy bite, paused. "I own a restaurant because women think it's sexy," he noted and then filled his mouth.
"Now you. Slowly." The amount of pleasure he took when she finally sampled wasn't small. "I told the guys you were going to marry me. Sammy joked that the odds were better you'd marry Georgio, Jr. I then thanked him for his fine culinary service and told him he was fired. That's why we were laughing."
Kate nearly choked. If not for the wine within reach, she likely would've.
"My guess is Sammy won't be laughing when he shows up tomorrow and his key doesn't work." Rick poked the air with his fork. "It's incredible, right? The bourbon?"
"Why would you say that?" She attempted to clear her throat for the third time. "Why would you say I was going to marry you? I don't even know you."
"You're right," Rick nodded. "We probably should compare our lists of prerequisites. How do you feel about s'mores folded into your omelets, because that's right up there near the top of my list?"
Kate didn't know what the hell to do with her hands or her legs or any other part of her body. Everything suddenly felt like jelly.
"Do you ever take anything seriously, or is everything always a joke to you?" Her eyes widened and then narrowed again. "The two divorces thing is making more and more sense by the minute. I would've run, too."
Immediately she regretted the jab and apologized. "I'm sorry. That wasn't necessary. I shouldn't have said that."
Rick waved her off and downed another bite.
"Don't worry about it. I've heard worse. Like I said, you've never met my mother, and just so you know, I've been serious about a lot of things tonight. You may not have thought so, but that doesn't mean I wasn't. I guess I'll just have to prove to you how serious I can be when we go on our first official date."
Kate shooed away the cheesecake he pushed under her nose in offer, moved on to the proposition hanging in the air, which he'd hung there more as a tell than an ask. That didn't land well. In no time flat, her defensive mode kicked into hyperdrive.
"I said I was sorry, but I'm not that sorry. There isn't going to be any date, Rick, first or otherwise, now or ever." She set down her fork, took in a breath, and out came the crescendo. "You know, I bet it never even crosses your mind that a woman might not want to go out with you. I bet your colossally swelled head can't even conceive of that possibility, or, in my case, fact."
Rick patted his hair as if in its comfort.
"I happen to be quite fond of my head, thank you very much. I think it's just the right amount of swelled. More importantly, why not? I'm gainfully employed. I'm easy on the eyes. I buy Girl Scout Cookies every year. I floss. I don't sound terrible when I sing in the shower. My laundry smells nice." He leaned back and peeked under the table where Kate had her bare legs crossed. "I'm tall. I know you can appreciate that. I mean, put your matchmaker hat on for a second. How can you not see that we're perfect first date material? Come on, I know you've had fun tonight."
Kate sputtered out a laugh of her own, in spite of the truth of it.
"You're exhausting, you know that? All I wanted to do was enjoy a quiet drink after work, unwind after a long day, and instead, somehow, I end up here in the dark corner of a kitchen with you, a grown man who proudly admits he plays Twister, and who thinks that because he's tall and looks good in a suit, he must be my soulmate."
Rick's lips curled behind his glass.
"I didn't say anything about my suit, but thank you, I'm glad you think so. Oh, and in case you were wondering, that was me being serious," he said and tipped back the wine.