Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52100 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“Does that tart have nuts?” a server named Jack asked.
“Our only nut-free desserts are vanilla ice cream with berries and apple dumplings. Everything else is prepared in a space where there are nuts. All allergens for the specials are listed on your cards.”
“Thank you, Chef,” Jack said.
Caden walked through the double doors to the kitchen, his brow furrowed. “Has anyone seen a little boy? Nine years old, wearing glasses and a white T-shirt?”
Every head in the kitchen turned to Spencer. My eyes widened.
“Thank God,” Caden said, opening one of the double doors and calling out. “He’s in here!”
“Get to work!” I told everyone as Holt ran through the doors into the kitchen.
I didn’t want everyone witnessing my second humiliation in as many days.
“Dammit, Spence!” Holt hugged his son tightly and then bent down to his level. “I was so worried. You can’t just leave like that.”
“Sorry, Dad. I thought you’d say no.”
I approached Holt with a look of apology. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed he told you where he was. That’s on me.”
Holt shook his head adamantly. “No, it’s on him.” He gave his son a stern look. “I told you to let me know where you are at all times, and I told you not to come in here and bother Shea while she’s working.”
“It wasn’t a bother at all,” I said. “He asked, and he’s been very polite and helpful.”
Nina tugged on my elbow and when I looked at her, she shook her head almost imperceptibly.
I immediately understood my friend’s unspoken message: stop undermining Holt while he’s trying to tell his son something important.
Damn. If I wasn’t dumping food all over him, I was putting my foot in my mouth. I zipped my lips as Spencer looked up at me, his eyes filled with tears.
“Sorry, Miss...Shea,” he said.
“Miss Grady,” Holt corrected him.
“Miss Grady.”
I wanted to talk to Holt about this in private, but the activity in the kitchen was ramping up, and it wasn’t the time or place.
“It’s okay, Spencer,” I said gently. “I enjoyed having you and I appreciate your help.”
He looked away, and I was pretty sure he was embarrassed to be seen crying. My heart broke for him. He was a sweet, earnest boy.
“Will you guys be eating in the dining hall tonight?” I asked Holt.
“We will,” he said, putting an arm around his son’s shoulder.
He’d noticed Spencer was crying, too. Holt patted his shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort, and my crush on him deepened.
“I’ll bring out something special,” I said. “And when you guys eat that whipped cinnamon butter, tell Spencer what a great job he did making it.”
Spencer smiled up at me and Holt gave me a grateful look.
“We’ll look forward to it. Thanks, Shea.”
“I’ll see you soon, Spencer,” I said with a little wave.
They left the kitchen and I only snuck one glance at Holt’s broad back, his muscled physique filling out his short-sleeved gray T-shirt.
Nina leaned in close. “Is it hot in here, or is it just him?”
“Both,” I whispered, grinning at her.
I couldn’t deny it—Holt was incredibly sexy. His concern for his son, coupled with the image of them walking side by side, Holt towering over his small son with an arm protectively over his shoulder, had done me in.
“Chef, where’s the seasoning for the chicken?” someone called out from nearby.
The question brought my feet back down to the ground. Sexy athlete nearby or not, I had to concentrate on dinner.
“Hi, Shea.”
A few hours later, Spencer smiled brightly at me when I stopped at the table he was eating dinner at with Holt and Marley.
“Hi there,” I said, setting the platter I was carrying on the table.
I’d checked with their server to make sure my delivery came at just the right time. They’d ordered dinner and were snacking on rolls with cinnamon butter. Holt had a glass of iced tea and the kids both had water.
“As promised,” I said. “These breadsticks are called grissini. I brought some beer cheese dip for them.”
Spencer’s eyes widened as he looked at the long, skinny breadsticks I’d arranged in three jars.
“Does it have shellfish in it?”
“No shellfish. I promise that while you’re here, you won’t be served anything with shellfish. We keep cards on each guest so we know about their allergies and their favorite foods. Your server will always have that card.”
Holt gave me an appreciative look. “That’s a great thing to do.”
Marley looked at me shyly. “Does the cheese really have beer in it?”
I laughed and exchanged an amused look with Holt. “Just a little bit for flavor.”
“My dad likes beer,” she said.
“Good to know,” I said.
Holt gave me a sheepish look. “I drink beer on occasion. I’m not that into it.”
“Don’t hog it, Spencer!” Marley cried.
Spencer had moved the bowl of cheese dip closer to him, and Marley couldn’t reach it. I was about to go to the kitchen for another bowl when Holt cut in.