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Peter laughs softly. “I take it that’s a favorite of yours?”
A blush stains my cheeks even hotter.
“Yes.”
He grins again.
“I noticed you had some on your plate when you went berserk at City Girls our first night together. It was cute.” He’s smiling at me and I feel my blushing cheeks get even hotter, which is only made worse when he winks at me. “I appreciate a woman with an appetite, Angie. I’ve never understood why women pretend they don’t get hungry, or only crave things that are green and leafy.”
I smile at him, relieved. “I guess it comes from training as a chef.”
“Oh,” he leans forward, “I had no idea you’re a chef. Did you go to a school for a formal education?”
I nod.
“Yes, at the Culinary Institute of America, and it was an amazing experience. Fried chicken was actually a specialty I became known for when I was there, probably because it’s one of my favorite foods, and has been since I was a child. It makes sense though because I was known for my skill with a deep fryer no matter the dish. I can make anything delicious in a deep fryer, but I have to admit that my fried chicken is the tops.”
Peter chuckles, amused, and waiter returns at that exact moment. My date places our orders before turning back to me.
“Well, you’ll have to let me know how my chef’s fried chicken holds up to your own,” he says. “Maybe you can give him some pointers if it’s lacking.”
I stare at him with wide eyes. “Wait. Your chef? You have a personal chef?”
He nods.
“I do, but like I mentioned before, I own this hotel, and this restaurant is actually one of our most popular dining spots. We get a lot of business from people who come just for the restaurants, so I employ several chefs to make sure we always have the best menu. We want the dishes to stay fresh and exciting, not to mention tempting and delicious.”
I nod.
“Wow, that’s really impressive.”
He winks.
“Well, you’re impressive too, honey, graduating from CIA.”
I shake my head.
“Yes, but that’s not quite as impressive as owning an entire hotel!”
He merely shrugs and grins. “Well, my family owns it, to be more accurate. I run the business these days, but I’m not the sole owner. I just happen to be the guy in the top spot.”
Then, our waiter returns with our food, and as soon as I set my eyes on the fried chicken, my mouth begins watering. The skin is crispy and golden, and I know that as soon as it hits my tongue, a savory mix of spice and buttermilk will make my taste buds melt.
“This is delicious,” I say after taking my first bite.
Peter grins.
“Better than yours?”
I giggle a bit.
“Maybe not, but I’ll be sure to give some pointers to the chef,” I say. “More pepper is needed, for one.”
Peter goes serious.
“Thanks, honey. I appreciate it. You know, this place wasn’t always a five star hotel, so we’ve come a long way. In fact, this hotel was called the Two-Bit Motel back in the day.” He laughs, and I swear it makes butterflies dance in my stomach.
“Did you tear down the Two-Bit to build the Wilshire?” I ask curiously. He nods.
“No and yes,” he says. “My dad made the original acquisition, but put me in charge of renovating the place. Or demolishing most of it, to be more precise. Of course, I kept little parts of the Two-Bit to honor the casino that was my first step up in business, and to be honest, some of the bones of the Two-Bit are still here.”
I nod.
“It’s nice you were able to incorporate it into your existing hotel. I hate when developers get rid of historical buildings altogether.”
Peter nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, I hate that too. But most of the Two-Bit is gone, save for a few retaining walls and some random mementos. I think my favorite is a golden lasso that used to hang in the Two-Bit lobby. It was part of a big cowboy display that you’d see as soon as you walked inside, and garish wouldn’t even describe it. There were sparkles everywhere, not to mention a mechanical bull and all sorts of rodeo equipment hung on the walls. As you can tell, the Two-Bit wasn’t classy but it gave me my start in this business, so I’m really sentimental about it.”
I cover my mouth with my napkin as I laugh, trying not to snort.
“What?” he asks.
“A golden lasso?” I ask archly. “And what was that for?”
A gleam comes into those devilish blue eyes.
“I’ll show you, if you’re interested sweetheart. It’s in my office, and we can stop by after dinner.”
A flush heats my cheeks as the air between us sparks with electricity.
“I’d like that,” I murmur. Those blue eyes bore into mine with unspoken meaning, but then my date sits back, casually elegant.
