If I Told You
Copyright © 2016 Jennifer Domenico
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Formatting by Elaine York/
Allusion Graphics, LLC/Publishing & Book Formatting
Sitting at my favorite table, I wait for Flynn to come out front and join me. Melissa, the hostess, lingers between the kitchen and the front door, keeping an eye out for customers. After checking that it’s all clear, she plops down in the seat beside me.
“Hey, girl,” she says, grabbing a breadstick from the basket. “Have you seen Flynn yet?”
“Nope. What’s up?”
“Don’t know,” she says, eyeing the door to the kitchen. “He’s worked up about something.”
“I figured. He texted me and said to get my ass down here. So here I am.”
“Hmm. I gotta know. It’s killing me.”
Laughing softly, I bite into a breadstick and shrug, just as Flynn bursts through the kitchen doors. He walks with lightening speed toward us, so fast Melissa doesn’t have time to get back to her station. For once, Flynn doesn’t seem to notice.
Sliding in the chair on the other side of me, he takes my hand in his, grinning. “Guess what?”
“Um. What?”
“Guess.”
“You found a new species of truffle? The price of wine dropped? The olive oil shipment came in?”
Flynn laughs. “All good guesses, but no.” He hands me a piece of paper. “Read this shit.”
Glancing down at the paper, I read slowly, then read it again. I look up with wide eyes. “No shit?”
“Can you fucking believe it?” Flynn jumps up from the table. “I’m in shock.”
“What is it?” Melissa asks.
Flynn nods. “Tell her.”
Looking back at the paper, I read aloud. “Renowned food critic, Rhys Camden, will visit your restaurant some time in the month of April. You will be alerted to his upcoming visit exactly three days prior. Please make the necessary arrangements to accommodate Mr. Camden. Regards, Felicity Grant, Secretary to Mr. Camden.” I look up. “This is big time, Flynn.”
“It’s more than big time,” he says. “This is it. A positive vote from him and I’ll be booked up every night for years.”
“Why?” Melissa asks innocently. “Is he special?”
“He’s more than special,” Flynn explains, sitting again. “He’s the only person whose review can shut a place down or make it the hottest seat in town. Four years ago, he went to Remy’s, that Jamaican fusion place in Queens.”
I tap his arm. “I remember that. After his review, you couldn’t get a seat there. They had to move to a bigger space, and the waitlist is still months out.”
“Wow,” Melissa says.
“Yeah, and there was this other place, Juliet’s I think it was called,” Flynn continues. “It was a pretty popular place, but he went and they had a bad night. The whole meal was a disaster, and the chef ended up screaming and crying in the back room. Two months later, poof!” He makes an explosion gesture with his hands. “Gone.”
“That sucks,” Melissa says.
“It does, but if you can’t handle a food critic, then you can’t be in this business. Not in New York anyway.”
Squeezing his hand, I smile. “True story. This is exciting, Flynn. I know you’re gonna nail it.”
“Thanks. I’ve been waiting two years for Rhys to notice me.”
“How did he?” Melissa asks.
“No idea. Don’t care. I’m just glad he did.” He grins, biting into a breadstick. “Oh, and by the way, I got the call an hour ago. He’s coming Friday.”
“This Friday?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“That was fast.”
“Not really,” Flynn responds. “I had the letter for two weeks, I guess. I was behind opening my mail.”
“Thank goodness you got to it,” Melissa adds.
“Definitely.”
Nodding, I nudge his arm. “What are you gonna make?”
“I’m still designing the menu.”
The front door opens and a couple walks in, so Melissa jumps up to take care of them.
“Will you come Thursday and sample what I come up with?” he asks.
“Of course. You know I’ll be here.” I read the letter once more. “Can I come on Friday and just take a peek at him? I want to see him in real life.”
Flynn tilts his head, narrowing his eyes. “Why is that?”
“Cuz he’s hot.”
Laughing, he shakes his head. “I knew you were gonna say that.”
“Well he is!”
“You can come, but be warned. I hear he’s a total dick. No sense of humor and not friendly at all.”
“I didn’t say I was planning to talk to him. I just want to look at him.”
“Fair enough. Maybe he’ll like the food, and you can take a picture of us together.”
“He’ll love it.” I lean over and kiss Flynn’s cheek. “Your food is amazing.”
“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend.”
“No, I’m saying it because it’s the truth. I’m so happy someone with the power to catapult you to the stratosphere is going to taste your food.”
“No pressure.”
“You can handle it.” I take his hand, gazing into his sweet blue eyes. “I believe in you.”
He kisses my hand. “Thanks, Brooks. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.”
“You’ll never have to worry about that.”
Glancing behind him, he says, “I better get back in the kitchen.”
“Okay. I’m gonna head out. I’m working on a new routine for Saturday.”
“Is it going to be as grueling as the others?”
“That’s what people pay me for.”
“You’re right.” We stand up, and Flynn pulls me close into an embrace. “I’ll see you tonight unless you’re already asleep.”
“Probably will be.”
He laughs. “Night, sweetie.”
“Night.” I kiss his cheek, then grab my coat. Stopping at the hostess stand, I say goodbye to Melissa.
“You two are so cute together,” she muses. “You’ve never dated?”
“Nope. Always just friends.”
“I don’t get it.” She rests her chin on her hand. “Flynn is perfection. How do you not see it?”
“I do, I just don’t feel that way about him.” I glance back as he talks to several of his servers and fusses over the table settings. To say Flynn is attractive is an understatement. His towering six-foot-two height, lean, muscular build, wavy brown hair that frames sparkling blue eyes, and those damn tattoos, all of it adds up to one impressive human being. That doesn’t change anything though. I shift my eyes back to Melissa. “We’ve always just been good friends. Nothing else.”
“That’s impressive. You must be the only woman in New York that doesn’t want to be his girlfriend.”
I laugh. “Probably. Flynn isn’t easy to be with though. He’s demanding, as you know from working with him. He’s very picky and finding the right woman won’t be easy.”
“I wouldn’t mind auditioning.” She leans on the counter. “He doesn’t even look twice at me. I’m probably too young.”
