The Kiss That Launched 1,000 Gifs (8 page)

“Not so much lately,” Traci said. “But when we first opened? That whole first year? Yeah, she and Phil were in here a lot.”

“And did Grace ever order anything strange?” Ash asked. “Or did you notice any weird tastes she has?”

Traci’s expression became sly. “Oh, that woman is totally finicky when it comes to ordering meals. First off, she’s pescetarian, so there are only like five things on the menu she’ll even touch. But even still, she’s incapable of ordering anything as it stands on the menu. There’s always some custom adjustment that needs to be made in the kitchen for her.”

Ash knew that, when it came to meat, Grace only ate fish but that wasn’t really something he could tease her about online.

Or could he?

“What’s weirdest thing she’s ever ordered?” he asked. “Anything that looks weird on a plate? If I ordered it, would it make a good picture?”

“Oh, we could definitely make it into a great picture,” Traci said, clearly game.

Ash nodded. “Then put it on my tab and tell the chef to make it look as OCD as possible.”

“Done and done,” Traci said, sending him a wink before spinning away and heading toward the kitchen.

Ash turned to Megan, who was frowning as she watched Traci all but skip away. “I don’t like her.”

“Traci?” Ash said, making note of the woman’s boy-sized hips as they swayed away. She was tiny—too tiny for him—but she still made a cute picture. “What’s not to like?”

“Are you serious? Did you see the look on her face when she talked about
Phil
?” Megan said his name as if it put a bad taste in her mouth. “Not Phillip—Phil, mind you. Even though Phillip spells his name out everywhere. He likes his name so much he named his restaurant after himself, and even Grace calls him by his full name on the air. But not Traci. She’s different, right? To her, it’s just Phil.”

Ash shrugged. “I’m sure it’s the same with my name. Most people call me Ashton, but I wouldn’t mind if they called me Ash.”

“But you would notice,” Megan pointed out. “It would be more personal, right? If a friend called you Ash, you’d be cool with it. But if it was an acquaintance or an employee that took the liberty, it would be weird. Plus, Traci never said Grace’s name. She called her ‘that woman.’ She’s dehumanizing Grace so she can feel more comfortable objectifying and betraying her.”

Hmmm. She had good points. “When did you get so smart?”

Megan arched a brow and cut into her filet. “Please. You forget how many knitting circles I’ve been subjected to in my life with grandma. I’ve heard this topic hashed out dozens of times. Our server totally has the hots for boss. I’d bet money on it.”

For a moment, Ash forgot about his steak. “I can’t describe how weird it is to hear those words come out of your mouth. Where is the rewind button on your age?”

Megan shrugged and took a bite of steak. “Hey, you’re the one who brought me here for an extra pair of eyes. I’m just earning my keep.” She pointed her knife Traci’s direction. “Beware of anything that chick gives you. She has ulterior motives.”

Ash fought the urge to look Traci’s way. “I hear you, but it’s just a plate of food. I don’t see how that could be catastrophic.”

Megan shrugged, tasting the potatoes. “I’m just saying, little Miss Traci is hot for boss. Consider her a poisoned well. Although…”

“Although?” Ash prompted, picking up his fork and knife.

Megan shrugged. “If a picture of food is enough to break up Grace and Phillip, maybe they shouldn’t be together in the first place. Relationships are delicate, but they shouldn’t be
that
delicate.”

Ash laughed. “Says the girl who has never been in a relationship.”

Megan replied by taking another bite of steak with a sage look in her eye. Ash stopped laughing.

“I’m being serious here,” Ash said, leaning forward. “You’re fifteen. You’re too young to be dating anyone.”

She shook her head, laughing. “I went on my first date when I was twelve.”

“What!”

“Don’t worry,” Megan said, looking pleased with herself. “It was all innocence that ended in a quick doorstep kiss.”

“And your mom knew?”

“Of course she knew,” Megan said with an eye roll. “You know my mom. She gave me the kama sutra version of the sex talk when I was six.”

Ash studied his niece, trying to find a balance between what he wanted to say and what he knew his sister would want him to say. “I think the less I know on this topic, the better. That said, from here on out, any guys you want to date need to go through me. Understand? I meet the dudes. I know who they are and where they live. I know what car they drive, got it?”

“That seems—”

“Non-negotiable,” he said, sawing into his steak. “I know I’m not your dad, but I’m still blood which means I’m part of the package. I meet the dude and I track your GPS when you go out on the date.”

Megan’s mouth fell open in dismay. “Are you kidding me? No way!”

“Yes way,” Ash said, taking a bite and nearly moaning when the piece of meat all but melted on his tongue. It was a perfect bite that nearly derailed him from finishing his thought, but the competitive look in his niece’s eyes inspired him to stay on task. “Guys your age need to know that they have eyes on them, or they might just get stupid. They need to know you have backup.
You
need to know you have backup. There’s an app for it. I just saw it the other day. You just hit a button if you’re in an uncomfortable situation you want to get out of and it will ping me. I’ll know exactly where you are and that you want out. I can call, act like a jerk who is forcing your hand, then come pick you up. You save face in front of your friends while also getting out of a bad situation. It’s a win-win.”

“It’s overprotective,” she countered.

“It’s non-negotiable,” Ash repeated with finality. “In the world we live in and with a mom as liberal as yours, you need one adult that will still treat you like the growing teen you are. That’s me. And if you don’t like it?” Ash shrugged. “Sucks to be you.”

For a moment, Megan looked like she was going to object. Then she let out a light laugh, her face blushing slightly. “No. It doesn’t suck to be me, Uncle Ash… Thanks. That would actually be a really good app for some situations.”

“Like I said.” Ash took another bite. “Non-negotiable.”

As usual, the evening’s wine tasting with Phillip was more business than pleasure. Luckily Grace’s upbringing had taught her to master the look of polite interest she used as she stood at Phillip’s side. The padded inserts in her four-inch heels had long since ceased to serve their purpose, and two hours ago she’d started shifting her weight around to try to avoid the pain. An hour ago she’d given up and just accepted that beauty
was
pain. Currently, Grace was numb from the knees down.

“I really do think the ’12 would be the perfect ingredient for your Boeuf Bourguignon,” Ryan was saying to Phillip. He was a sales rep at the vineyard who clearly had an eye on Phillip’s business.

“It’s a strong candidate,” Phillip agreed, which was his way of saying
Not going to happen.

So why were they still there talking to the man?

Grace glanced at the clock on the wall, watching it creep closer to 11:00 p.m. She was down to six hours of sleep. She took a slow breath and tried to keep her anxiousness from showing on her face.

“What do you think, Grace?” Ryan asked.

I think it’s 11:00, and I thought we’d be gone two hours ago.
“The ’12 has a very full, mellow flavor to it,” she said with a smile. “I enjoyed it.”

Pleasant without implying commitment, that’s how Phillip liked her to respond at events like this. Once upon a time, Grace had fun finding ways to do just that, but when she’d realized no one was really listening she’d stopped putting effort into her responses.

Grace was arm candy. She knew it, and despite her personal politics, she was okay with it. Her mom was both beautiful and smart, and Grace spent her entire life watching her mom use both beauty and brains to get the results she wanted. It was a compelling combination that Grace had put into action more than once herself.

But not this night, and not with this crowd. There wasn’t a single man in the room who cared if Grace had a brain. She was present to send the visual message that Phillip had high expectations both of himself and those he had relationships with—business and personal. Yet between the wine, the time, and an ever-expanding numb zone stemming from her shoes, Grace’s role in that messaging was fading fast.

“I agree,” Phillip said, swirling the liquid in his glass. “The ’12 is excellent, but I had been hoping that your ’07 Charbono would be making an appearance tonight.”

Ryan smiled knowingly. “You know we have an exclusive contract with that line. Every bottle was purchased the year they were bottled.”

“I understand,” Phillip replied. “But we both know that everything is always for sale.”

Really? This was Phillip’s angle for dragging her here, and he was just getting to it?

“I need to sit down for a moment,” she said with an abruptness that earned her a surprised look from Phillip.

“Of course,” Ryan said, moving to a nearby table and pulling out a seat. “You’ve been standing for hours in those heels.”

Yes. She had. Longer than Ryan knew, but she said nothing as she moved to the offered seat and lowered herself into it. Heaven above, she might never stand again.

Phillip glanced her way as Ryan returned to their discussion and Grace tapped on her wrist to indicate the time. Phillip blinked his acknowledgment then focused his attention back on Ryan.

Grace rolled her neck, a sigh of relief leaving her before she could stop it. A yawn followed, paired with the deep desire to toe out of her shoes. She couldn’t go that far though. Once those bad boys came off, nothing would be going back onto her feet until morning. They had to stay on until she and Phillip reached the car.

To distract both her mind and her hands, Grace pulled out her cell phone and checked on her accounts. Everything was quiet except Instagram. 217 notifications since her last check in. That much activity this late at night? Grace was almost afraid to look.

She pulled up Ashton’s account to see what brush fire he had started this time. When the picture of a plate full of food with every ingredient separated out into their own little containers. She recognized the plate and the dish as the grilled mahi mahi at Phillip’s. Below it was a caption.

I came to Phillip’s and asked for the Grace Vasquez Special. This is what I got. Bon appétit?

It looked delicious and, based on the comments, listeners agreed. If Ashton had been going for a diss, he’d missed.

But that was beside the point. The point was that Ashton was successfully engaging their listeners. They loved him. If only they had urged him onto social media sooner maybe their show wouldn’t be on the chopping block. The man was funny… although that picture of her junk drawer had nearly put her over the edge. Grace kept her world OCD clean. She allowed herself only one spot—one drawer—for all the chaos, and Ashton had posted it for all the world to see. The only thing that had talked her off the ledge of giving him a piece of her mind was the fact that 90% of all the comments had been in support of having a junk drawer.

Grace wasn’t the only one with a designated space for chaos in her life, just like most of the current commenters thought her custom order at Phillip’s looked delicious.

Take that, Ashton.

Every time he posted, Grace got more followers. She was currently only 327 followers away from cracking the elusive 10K follower mark. She’d have to go out for a celebratory dinner when that happened and tease Ashton that he was still sitting at 4K. Sucker.

As Grace debated on how to respond to Ashton’s post, she happened to glance up at Phillip and smiled at the picture he made. Grace wasn’t the only one in their relationship who made good arm candy. Phillip looked like a model in the Joseph Abboud charcoal and black slim-fit suit he was wearing. The overhead lighting was hitting him just right, highlighting his bone structure even as his five o’clock shadow added just a hint of the rough and rustic look. Between his ice blue eyes, dark hair, and the way he held his wine glass in the suit, he looked like a model shooting an ad campaign for the wine.

Unable to let the moment pass, Grace opened the camera on her phone and started snapping shots.

There were many things to love about Phillip. He was driven and never made a promise he couldn’t keep, for starters. He was also one of those rare people who remembered everyone’s name and could always find a topic of shared interest to talk about. He was both professional and personal… and on top of all that, the man made one mighty fine picture.