But he wasn’t powerless.
“I know it’s the end of our week, but you look more exhausted than usual.”
When he looked over, his heart shifted in his chest. The weight lifted. His mood went from crap to wonderful. Madison was home.
“You’re the boost I needed.” He stood and went around the desk. “God, I missed you.”
She set Pierre’s cage down on a side table, per her usual ritual, and grabbed his hand, leading him out and closing thedoor behind them. “Better to kiss without the kids around,” she joked, before she kissed him and wrapped her arms around him.
He leaned in and pressed his face into her neck. Her smell was a wild medley of roasted duck, fragrant onions, and industrial soap.
Comforting.
Reliable.
Always exactly right.
Her hands tangled in his hair. “What happened? This is more than your usualI’ve been dealing with contractors and assholes wanting a reservation all daymood.”
He coughed out a laugh. “The reservation part is right. My mom texted and said they’re bringing their good friends Tripp and Tina, along with their sweet, newly graduated daughter, Ivey, to Paris in a couple weeks to see what all the fuss was about with ‘my new restaurant.’”
“Oh…”
“Don’t worry. After talking myself down, I realized the probability of them actually coming is pretty low. They hate France. They don’t travel outside the States. It’s more likely my parents are lapping up attention at their country club right now because people are talking about Nanine’s. Boasting about going—even if they never make the trip—is the kind of crap they like doing to make people jealous.”
She patted him on the back. “Whew. Because I didn’t know how you were planning on snapping your fingers like a magician and finding them a table.”
“Exactly,” he muttered.
“So they’re bragging about setting you up with a new graduate too, huh?” Her voice held an edge. “That makes her twenty-two?”
“Yep.” He settled her more firmly against him. “She used to give me her Easter eggs when we were kids. My mother thinks it’s fate.”
“But you hate hard-boiled eggs,” she answered practically, making him laugh. “Now I understand the root of the problem.”
“You know how I responded?”
“From your wicked smile, I’d say it was a humdinger,” she responded, tracing his mouth. “Tell me.”
“I sent them back a thumbs-up emoji—no deets, noyay, you’re coming. Especially not ano way in hell can I get you a reservation?—”
“Because you don’t challenge people like that. I learned that in Liberty City and later in my first restaurant.”
“I knew you’d understand. And do you know what? God, it felt good.”
“I can see that.” She was smoothing his brows, gazing intently into his eyes. “What happens if they do come?”
“I’ll give them an itinerary to die for, arrange for reservations at other really posh restaurants, and be all like, ‘sorry, Nanine’s just wasn’t possible this time. But you’re on the wait list. Or we can set up a reservation for you for a year from now.’”
“Will that work?” she asked, her brows knitting. “I mean, we have a lot going on.”
“This is my turf.” He leaned in and kissed her softly. “I can control this situation if I have to, but again, there’s a low probability of it happening. Regardless, you won’t have to deal with them, ever. I promise.”
Her expression was a downright glower.
“Why are you frowning?” He gripped her shoulders. “Did I miss something? You’re not upset because I didn’t suggest introducing you to my parents?”
Didn’t she know there was no way he’d expose her to them? Especially after the way Paisley had treated her and called her “the help.” His parents would be no different. He would never put her in the same room with them.
