At Your Service. Amy Jo Cousins
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in order, bossman.” She snapped him a two-finger salute that was lacking enough in respect to have her doing two hundred push-ups if she’d been at boot camp. But she couldn’t hide her fondness for the women arguing loudly in the front of the house as she kept speaking, her voice forceful. “And your sisters aren’t crazy. They’re wonderful. You should be proud to have them for family.”
“I am.”
His simple answer stopped her and made her flush. She couldn’t keep on overreacting and being this easily flustered around him. She’d managed herself well enough around the rest of his family. Well, except for his mother.
The fact that she was basically comfortable around everyone except the only man in the restaurant did not escape her.
I’ll get over it, Grace told herself.
I’ll have to.
“Sorry.” Her apology was awkward. “I just came in to ask if you had a price list for drinks.”
“Of course.” Tyler stood and reached out to a shelf above her head, abutting the door frame. He deliberately crowded her as he searched for the price list in the stack of papers piled haphazardly on the shelf. He waited for her to back up, and smiled to himself when she just glared up at him, those lake-blue eyes flashing with waves of irritation.
He’d left his door open a crack after walking off and leaving Grace to whip his sisters into shape as a waitstaff. He heard her unintentionally insult his mother and flinched in sympathy. And then, after a moment of silence during which he could somehow feel her take a deep breath and take charge, he heard his fragile, blond smart-ass launch into an entertaining and informative lecture on how to wait tables like a pro. After five minutes, he’d shut his office door and tackled the phone.
Now he listened to her making huffy little noises of irritation as he pretended to continue his search for a price list and he wanted to laugh out loud at what a bundle of nerves and brashness she was. Making a noise of sudden, pleased discovery, he exaggerated his relief at finding the laminated sheet of paper and sat again, handing it to her in the process.
“Thanks.” She started to glance over the list as she turned to go, then stopped short in the doorway.
“This isn’t going to work.”
“What isn’t going to work?” he asked, his voice sharper than he’d intended. He’d put a lot of thought into the pricing of his drinks, after all, searching for that delicate balance between maximizing profit and convincing the customer that he was getting a good deal. Ten years of serving drinks in someone else’s bar had taught him what worked and he knew his price list was exactly right for the house.
He saw Grace turn and glance guiltily at him, and wondered what misdeed she thought she’d performed now. When she brushed off his question with a shrug and an apology, he realized that she was afraid to point out to him something she didn’t agree with. He gentled his voice. Another of his goals was to be the kind of boss that employees felt comfortable talking to.
“It’s okay, Grace. I’m not going to be mad at you. If you’ve got a suggestion, let me have it. It’s our opening night, you know. I probably don’t have everything perfect yet.” He smiled to encourage her.
Grace fumed and kept the timid smile plastered across her face. Not until Tyler had snapped at her had she realized that she’d slipped and started talking to him as a restaurant manager would. That level of confidence and analysis would certainly be out of character for her cover story.
“No, you do. Have things perfect, I mean. The prices seem right-on for the neighborhood and the crowd you’re likely to get.” She kept her voice soft and on the nervous side. “I was just thinking that this list might be a little complicated for your sisters. Seeing as it’s their first time waiting tables.”
“And what would you suggest?”
“Well, if we could maybe group the drinks into just a few price categories? You know, domestic and import beers, well drinks, call drinks and premiums.” She reeled off the standard ordering procedure of her restaurants without a hitch. “That way they wouldn’t have so much to remember.”
Tyler knew immediately that she was correct and was irritated for not thinking of it himself. He might have the time and inclination to memorize fifty or sixty different drink prices, but his servers deserved a price list they could learn without studying as if they were prepping for a college exam. After a moment’s thought, he grabbed a piece of scrap paper and scribbled out a new list that was five lines long.
“For tonight, use this. We’ll expand it later.”
“Thank you, Tyler. This will help out a lot.”
It was like a punch to the gut, grabbing him and dragging him to his feet to stand over her. Just hearing her say his name in that soft, almost-apologetic voice, as though she was afraid even to speak to him. It made him want to kiss her until she pushed him away—he had no doubt that she would—and told him off again in that sassy, take-no-grief attitude.
He snagged her elbow as she headed out the door and pulled her back around to face him. Her eyes were wide and blinking with nervousness as he laid a hand alongside her face and brushed his fingers from her hairline to the edge of her mouth.
“In the future, don’t hesitate to talk to me, Grace.”
He leaned forward, close enough to feel the warmth of her breath on his face.
“You don’t have to hide your intelligence from me. Let me into that clever little mind.”
His lips hovered over hers for one never-ending moment.
“I want to know what you’re thinking.”
When he touched his mouth to hers, she gave a little sigh and sank the smallest bit further into his kiss. Her mouth eased open under his gentle assault, his teeth nipping softly at her full, lower lip. He traced his fingertips along the edge of her upswept hair, around to the back of her neck and then skated them down her spine. Her back arched sharply beneath his hand. She might have been avoiding the pressure of his hand, but her escape had the pleasant side effect of pressing her breasts into his chest.
Tyler felt light-headed from the effort of restraining himself from moving any faster and scaring her off. Well, if he passed out, surely someone would throw some water on him to wake him up.
When she pulled back after a time that was not nearly long enough, Tyler figured that that was to be expected.
Her next words, however, were not.
“I’m thinking Addy and Sarah aren’t going to be able to handle more than two tables each, which leaves me with eight four-tops and hostess duties.”
“What?”
“You asked me what I was thinking.” She looked up at him with calm eyes. “That’s it.”
For a moment Tyler was offended. He’d kissed her and she’d practically knocked him out, and she felt nothing? She could just continue a conversation as if nothing had happened between them? Fine, then. If she could ignore it, so could he.
But as he opened his mouth to say something that would probably have turned out to be irredeemably callous, he saw Grace raise her hand.
She dropped it down again by her side a second later, but he’d caught the nervous gesture. She’d been reaching to tug on her hair, but couldn’t because she’d pinned her hair up in a loose twist. Taking a second look, he noticed the faint flush on her cheekbones that hadn’t been there before and the barely visible flutter of an elevated pulse at the base of her throat. She’d been as affected by the brief kiss as he was, he realized.
Tyler knew the satisfaction he felt at these signs was a ridiculous display of his male ego, but what the hell. He could afford to indulge himself. He’d made Grace blush.
The smile he shot her was pure lord-of-the-manor.
“Sounds like