“I didn’t order this.” And if this was type of scam to get me to pay for some overpriced meal, they’d regret choosing my house.
“Your girlfriend did.” The girl’s smile never wavered when I glared at her. She simply produced a small cream-colored card and slid it between my fingers. Then, she waited patiently for me to read it.
Thanks for saving my life, stalker. I owe you one. ~KA
I smiled at Kat’s words and took a step back to let the kids enter. I wasn’t about to turn down a gourmet meal from a beautiful woman.
“Kitchen is straight back, thanks.” As the kids marched down the hall in hushed whispers, I reread the note in disbelief. Kat was nice to everyone, but I’d always gotten the impression that she looked down on me. Not always, but after one particularly embarrassing evening when my mother showed up, drunk, to Ashby Manor and forced me home for a family dinner of fried bologna sandwiches and generic cheese puffs. After that, Kat noticed the social differences between us and her schoolgirl crush had vanished.
Instantly.
But this gift, it was different.
Not that I was about to go off daydreaming about my best friend’s little sister, which was sheer madness. But it would be rude not to say thanks, wouldn’t it?
Thanks for dinner. No poison? Her reply came before I could shove my phone back into a pocket.
Not that I know of. Eat it all and let me know so I can call the right people to complain, yeah?
Her words pulled a laugh from me that echoed in the foyer, which reminded me that there were two young strangers preparing food for me in the kitchen. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t indulge in a little harmless flirting while I waited to eat. You’ll be sad when I’m gone.
The truth was it probably wouldn’t impact her much at all, beyond the sadness that an honorary member of the family had died. Yet still, I stared at the screen, waiting for another message. Kat didn’t disappoint. Of course I will. Then I’ll have to find someone else to sneer at me for the next twenty years.
“What?” I shook my head at the message, reading and re-reading it to make sure I’d read it right. Kat thought all those longing looks I tried to hide were sneers. I guess that was better than her knowing the truth and feeling obligated to give the old it’s not you, it’s me speech. I refused to touch that message, knowing my denial would only make her believe it was true.
“Did you have a question, Mr. Manning?”
I blinked and looked up at the freckle-faced chef with the earnest smile. “Sorry, no. That was a rhetorical question.”
“Okay, then. The wine has sufficiently breathed. I can pour you a glass if you’d like.”
“Sure.” I wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but this was the meal that Kat had picked out for me, to say thanks for saving her sweet little ass, so I would indulge. Completely. “Thank you.”
I took a sip and listened as she prattled on and on about the flavor and undertones of the wine, the full bodied-ness of it. I didn’t know what any of that meant and I didn’t care.
“Damn good wine, thanks.”
Five minutes later, Jack and his freckle-faced sidekick had a four-course gourmet Italian meal laid out before me. I enjoyed every single bite, savored the flavors and the meal.
All courtesy of one sexy as fuck Kat Ashby.
Chapter Five
Kat
One of the things I loved about spending days at the Emerald Isle casino compared to Black Stallion was The Cute Parisian Bistro. As the name indicated, it was a cute little Parisian style bistro complete with wrought iron tables and chairs, a chalkboard menu, and softly playing French pop music playing through strategically placed speakers.
It was my favorite place to have lunch, especially when I was feeling particularly ravenous, like today. They had the best steak sandwiches in the world, perfectly seasoned with a bit of au jus on the side, and thick steak fries that would force me to earn my work out later today. Normally, I’d eat at my desk, and my assistant would deliver this masterpiece to my office. Today, I was exhausted, and it wasn’t even one o’clock yet. I needed a break and people watching for forty-five minutes in the heart of the Emerald Isle, would do the job beautifully.
I loved to people watch, to figure out the intimate details of people’s lives just by observing them without their knowing it. Was that couple in the corner enjoying a secret rendezvous or was it as innocent as it appeared on the surface? Were those retirees undercover officers or worse, were they like the couple staying in one of the Mueller Suites?
“Hey, you’re Katherine Ashby, right?”
The sound of my name took my gaze from the teenagers who’d just bounced in looking way too fashionable for the middle of a school day. They were either older than they looked or playing hooky to meet up with some older guys, the same way I had when I was their age. Except I had enough sense to get lost in the bigger casinos that Vegas had to offer. The question came from a young girl who looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen. The thin layer of dirt on her skin and the ill-fitting clothes pegged her as a runaway.
“Who’s asking?”
She snorted and rolled her eyes, a move that added about two extra years of attitude. “Cute. Look, I know you’re her because I looked you up online and there are a lot of photos of you. A lot. You run this place, is that true?”
The next shakedown is always around the corner, another of those life lessons from dear old Dad. Another tip that had turned out to be more
