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ChapterTwo
“I’ll have the wild mushroom and chicken risotto.” Harper glanced at the menu as she nibbled on her bottom lip.
Seth stopped himself from reaching across the red and white checked tablecloth to gently free the tender flesh. Would she be shocked and open her mouth just enough for him to trace the plumpness of her lower lip? Instead, he rolled up the sleeves of his navy shirt. It was time to relax and enjoy the company of the woman across the small table.
“Or, maybe, the bocconcini, tomato and basil pizza.” She shook her head. “No, cancel that. I’ll stick with the risotto.”
Theo, aged in his sixties and owner of Seth’s favorite Italian hole-in-the-wall restaurant, didn’t write down her order. Since Harper had changed her mind twice already, Seth couldn’t blame him.
Judging by the indulgent smile on Theo’s mustached face, he didn’t mind. And Seth could understand why.
The curvy bundle of woman was a sweet contradiction—one moment sassy and daring, the next adorably cute. On their cab ride to Theo’s, she’d caught a passing glimpse at a Staples store and clapped as she announced she was due for her next “extravaganza”—whatever the hell that meant.
“Are you sure, miss?” Theo held his pen poised over his pad as the light from the wall sconce shone on his partially bald head.
Harper handed back her menu. “Yes, I’m sure,” she replied with the gravity of someone giving testimony before a grand jury.
The older man turned his way. “Do I even need to ask your order?”
“The usual, mate.” He picked up his beer and took a swallow.
“Spaghetti marinara with extra prawns.” Diminutive of height, but huge in personality, Theo rolled his eyes at Harper. “He won’t call them shrimp. Comes here all the time, eats nothing but my marinara. His brothers, now they’re different, always trying something new. But not this one.” Theo turned to Seth. “Dillon came here last week, but not the others. Where have they been? I want to see Zach’s little bambino.”
“Busy.” Regret—no, guilt—sank like a torpedoed sub deep in Seth’s gut. “Adam’s away as usual.” Who knew where with his secretive brother and his life in black ops? “Zach’s reputation for his wood carvings has spread far and wide, and between work and catering to our resident princess, he’s damned busy.” Four-year-old Milly had her dad and uncles wrapped around her little finger. How her mom could have abandoned a three-month-old baby with Zach Seth would never understand.
“And Heath,”—Seth shrugged at Theo—“a detective never has normal hours, and neither have I this last year.” Had it really been a month since they’d caught up for a beer?
How many messages had Heath left before he’d threatened to put out an APB out on Seth if he didn’t call back? There was a time they’d made it a point to hang out each week.
But life had a way of changing things. Life, and the crazy hours Seth had kept trying to get his business off the ground.
His brothers would understand when they got their payout from the sale of his company. Fifteen million each was plenty of insight as to why Seth’s single-minded focus on achieving his goals had been worth months of missed Sundays drinking beer and watching rugby matches on satellite TV.
Theo’s brows were drawn in a disapproving frown. “Tell them I want their asses in here more often. It’s been too long since I last heard their noisy accents,” he said before heading off to the kitchen.
“I will.” He needed to contact his brothers regardless. Dillon had spread today’s good news. Seth had taken a quick congratulatory call from Heath in the cab, but didn’t talk long with Harper sitting beside him, and Zach had sent a text to his phone. Aced it, kid. Typical of his Harley riding brother. A man of few words.
There was time later to catch up. Right now, he had other priorities.
“Do you usually have such trouble deciding what to eat?”
“Yes.” Harper shrugged. “I’m hopeless at making up my mind on food. I like everything. Then, when I get my meal, I wonder if I’ve made the right choice.” Her lower lip pushed out. “It places a lot of pressure on the dish in front of me.”
Seriously fucking cute.
“I see your dilemma. But you own a café. How do you make up your mind for what’s on your menu each day?”
She straightened. “Easy. I have a set menu.” Her gaze shone bright as she explained. “It never varies until we’re changing seasons, or it’s a special occasion. It’s how I got the name for the café.”
“Seven Dishes.” Seth remembered she had mentioned the name earlier at the reception.
“That’s right.” Harper sipped her white wine and continued. “We serve seven main dishes.”
Seth stared at her a second. “Seven only? No special orders?”
“Nope.” Harper shook her head, and the flickering light from the candle in the red glass tumbler in the middle of the table highlighted the streaks of caramel brown he hadn’t noticed before. “This way, everyone knows what they’re ordering. We have a gluten free pasta dish and a salad for those who want to eat light, but everything else is comfort food.”
“Plus coffee,” Seth added. Dillon had raved about his morning java for over a year. Obviously, the staff at Seven Dishes included a decent barista.
