Flavor Of The Month (Kiss & Tell Book 2) Page 12

  And now she was being made to pay for it.

  “I think the word you’re looking for is slut,” Reilly said, wiping her mouth and hoping coffee wasn’t dripping from her nose. “A whore gets paid. A slut just does it for the pleasure. Your mom was never really good at telling the difference.”

  Efi smiled, her pink hair looking particularly bright with the morning sunlight on it. “You know, that’s what I thought. But I wouldn’t dare use either word in front of Mom or else she’d ground me for life.”

  “Sounds like my sister. I’m surprised she used the word in front of you.”

  Efi toyed with a sticky bun she wasn’t really eating. “She didn’t. She was talking to grandma on the phone and I was eavesdropping.”

  Oh, boy. The one person she hadn’t heard from yet was her mother regarding Ben’s curious activities last week. She had a feeling that was going to change fairly quickly.

  “So,” Reilly said, not about to go further down that path with her niece. “Why did you get up an hour earlier than you have to to come by here before school?”

  Efi shrugged with one shoulder as if it was no big deal. Only they both knew what a big deal it was because Efi slept like the dead. “I came by to see if I could help out.”

  Reilly glanced to where Tina was helping a customer. “What, for a whole fifteen minutes?” She stared at Efi through her lashes. “Don’t tell me. This is about Jason again.”

  Efi turned about ten shades of red but shook her head. “No. Actually there’s a new guy….”

  And her sister was calling her a slut?

  She blinked, wondering if she’d really just thought that about her own niece. “At high school?”

  Efi shook her head. “No, at Greek school. His family just moved from Astoria or somewhere.”

  “That’s in New York City.”

  Efi nodded again. “Anyway, his name is Kostas and, well…”

  “You like him.”

  Efi nodded. “He’s only a year older than me and he seems nice and everything, and every time I look at him, he’s looking at me, but…he hasn’t talked to me yet.”

  Well at least she wasn’t saying she hated Greek school anymore. Her sister Debbie must be celebrating.

  She asked, “And have you talked to him?”

  “No.” Efi rolled her eyes then stared at her as if she’d gone soft in the head. “Mom says girls don’t talk to guys first. They wait for the guys to approach them.”

  Her sister, the hypocrite. Reilly guessed Debbie hadn’t shared the story about how she’d met her husband, Efi’s father, at a Greek festival and made out with him the first night behind the gyro stand after everyone had gone home for the night.

  The cowbell above the door jingled. Reilly didn’t see who had entered but knew immediately by the smell of his woodsy aftershave. “Hi, Jack.”

  She heard him sigh before he walked into her line of sight. “It’s my cologne, isn’t it? The reason I can never sneak up on any of you.”

  Reilly smiled at him. “That and our hunk radar alert. It goes off when you’re around.”

  “Ha, ha.” He looked to Efi. “Hey, squirt,” he said, ruffling the top of her pink head. “Like the hair color.”

  If Reilly had ruffled her niece’s carefully gelled hair there would have been hell to pay. But Efi not only let Jack do it, she was all smiles and pink cheeks. “Thanks, Jack.”

  He looked back at Reilly. “Are the deliveries ready to go?”

  She nodded. “Yeah. Only a couple of trays from the refrigerator to put in the van and you’re all set.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for doing this, Jack.”

  “What are friends for?”

  Thinking back on her conversations with Mallory and Layla, she wondered what friends were for, indeed.

  Along with every other female in the place, she watched Jack walk toward the kitchen. She heard his mumbled curses indicating he knew they were all looking. Of course, Reilly didn’t think what she was doing fell into friendship territory, but, hey, she was only human.

  And so was Efi, if her rapt attention on Jack’s tight, yummy behind was any indication.

  “He’s all that and a double cherry coke,” Efi said with a sigh.

  “I’m not even going to ask what that means.” Reilly made a face. “Anyway, as I was saying before we were so welcomely interrupted, if we women waited for the guys to approach us, we’d never date.” Even as she said the words, she wondered about her own dating methods up until that point. Ben had practically had to seduce a “yes” right out of her.

  Efi’s mouth gaped open. “That’s what I told Mom.”

  “So, then, what’s the real reason you haven’t talked to him yet?”

  Efi seemed to be paying too close attention to her sticky bun. “I don’t know.” She gave another of those one-shoulder shrugs. “I guess I’m afraid he’ll think I’m stupid or something. You know, a hick.”

  Reilly laughed then abruptly stopped when Efi glared at her. “You’re from L.A., Efi, not Toledo.”

  “Where’s Toledo?”

  “It’s a city in Ohio. But that’s not my point. My point is that I highly doubt he’s going to think you’re stupid for talking to him.” She dared another sip of coffee. “Ask where he’s from. What high school he’s going to. What he thinks of Southern California. That kind of thing.”

  “But I already know the answers to those questions.”

  Reilly stared at her. “Then ask him out for a hot dog.”

  “A hot dog?”

  “Okay, a piece of baklava. Bring him here. Tell him you need a New Yorker’s opinion on western baklava.”

  “That’s so lame.”

  “Yes, it is, isn’t it? But lame is a step up from stupid.” Reilly glanced at the clock on the wall. “Anyway, eat up or you’re going to be late for school.”

  Efi pushed the sticky bun away. “I’m going to be late anyway, so why don’t you just call in sick for me and I’ll hang out here and help out?”

  So now she hated high school. Complicated role, playing aunt to a fifteen-year-old girl.

  Reilly shook her head. “Not if helping out is what you just did here.” She smiled. “Anyway, I value my life. Your mother would skin me alive if I contributed to your delinquency.”

  “You’d be teaching me a career.”

  Reilly got a bag from behind the counter and put the uneaten sticky bun into it. “What good would that do if you’re illiterate?”

  Efi rolled her eyes as she slid off her stool. “I learned how to read in the first grade, Aunt Rei.”

  “Yeah, but not the really big words. Like capital punishment. Which is what your mom will be facing after she kills me.” She handed Efi the bag then gave her a gentle push toward the door. “Go.”

  Efi kissed her on the cheek and went. Reilly stood at the window watching her. Interesting how when the girl got ten paces away her step picked up, almost as if she’d already forgotten what they talked about.

  Ah, to be fifteen again.

  Then again, no.

  She turned away from the window and cleaned off the table, passing by Johnnie Thunder where he sat in his usual spot again this morning. “Can I get you a refill?” she asked him.

  He seemed surprised to find her standing next to him and pushed a button that made his laptop computer screen go blank. “Um, no. Thanks,” he said almost sheepishly.

  “No, problem,” Reilly said, stopping to ask the other two customers if they were good to go before she headed behind the counter.

  Tina’s heavy sigh reached Reilly from the counter. “I don’t know how you stand it, Aunt Rei,” she said. “Efi’s neurotic episodes. Mom and I don’t have the patience.” She sighed again as she slid a tray of scones back into the case. “God, I don’t remember ever being that young.”

  Funny, Reilly thought, the last time she looked Tina was still that young.

  “Anyway, Jack’s waiting back in the kitchen,” Tina said. “Do you want me to handle him?”
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  Her older niece’s dark eyes were a little too bright, her smile a little too…predatory. “I think what you meant to say is should you handle the situation.” She shook her head, took two sticky buns and put them into a bag, filled an extra large coffee cup, then went back for another sticky bun before closing the bag. “And, no, thank you. I’ll…handle him myself.”

  She ignored Tina’s horrified gasp and could only imagine what was going through her mind following “The Ben Incident.” At this point, her family probably thought she was sleeping with every single male in the greater Los Angeles area. Then again, why stop with males? It was L.A., after all.

  She pushed into the kitchen and found Jack sitting reading the morning paper at the extra large island designed to handle the biggest orders.

  “Ah, a woman after my own heart,” he said, accepting the coffee then looking inside the bag. “Three? I must have been a very good boy indeed.”

  Reilly laughed as she took the chair next to him. “You have been.”

  He devoured half a roll then took a long sip of coffee. “Care to fill me in on what I did? You know, in case I decide I like the treatment?”

  “Aside from making these deliveries for me three times in the past week because I’m having zero luck finding a part-time driver?” She shrugged and folded his paper for him. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess it’s because you haven’t said anything to me about Ben Kane and about our…well…”

  Her words hung in the air for a long moment before Jack said, “What? The two of you getting in some major sack-session time?”

  She reached to snatch back the sticky buns.

  He chuckled. “I’m just stating facts, Rei. Not passing judgment.”

  He was right, of course. He hadn’t passed judgment. He hadn’t even said anything on the subject until she, herself, had brought it up. “Why aren’t you? Everyone else seems overly qualified to do so lately.”

  His chewing slowed. He seemed to take a long time swallowing the rest of the sticky bun then washing it down with coffee.

  She, Layla and Mallory knew that Jack Daniels was a recovering alcoholic. In the beginning he had quipped that it was his destiny, having been named after hard liquor. But Reilly knew how serious the situation was. She had even attended a couple of AA meetings with him back when they’d first met three years ago. And every now and again he took up smoking to see him through the rough spots. But she realized with a start that he never really talked about that time much. In fact, he never really talked about much at all. He merely seemed to enjoy their company. Was drawn to the tightly knit group of friends that had come together after that comedic incident outside Layla’s free clinic three years ago.

  “I’m the last one to be judging anyone,” he said quietly.

  He rolled up the top of the bag and put it on the island.

  “Besides, I figure you’re getting enough from Layla and Mall. Lord knows I’m getting an earful.”

  Reilly frowned and propped her elbow on the counter then rested her head in her hand. “I don’t know. I mean on the one hand I understand their concern. On the other…”

  “You wish they’d just butt out.”

  Reilly smiled at the handsome man next to her. “That about covers it.” She traced a path on the clean tile of the counter. “Tell me, Jack, how come none of us ever…well, you know, dated you? I mean, I know we three women made a pact in the beginning. Decided that if this friendship was to work, then we would have to swear off any designs on you. But…”

  Jack stared at her for a long moment. “But?”

  She smiled. “You’re not going to help me out on this one, are you?”

  He shook his head and grinned. “Nope.” He waggled a finger at her. “That’s the problem with letting a sentence hang. You never know if the other person is going to pick it up for you.”

  Reilly reached for his coffee and took a long pull of the black liquid.

  “Reilly, you know I’m here if you need anyone to talk to, don’t you?”

  She nodded. Yes, she did know that. Better, she knew that she could say anything to him without worrying about it getting back to Layla and Mallory. And that he would listen without reservation.

  “Do you have your two-cents worth on the situation?” she found herself asking, even though she knew she was maneuvering through a potential mine-field. “You know, on my dating Ben Kane?”

  He rested a large hand on her shoulder and gave a squeeze. “Babe, I think you should go with whatever your heart tells you. Even if it leads you wrong—and I’m not saying it will—at least you won’t ever wonder ‘what if.”’

  The organ in question pitched to Reilly’s feet at the quietly offered advice. She leaned into the man who smelled like the outdoors in the middle of L.A. and briefly closed her eyes. Had she ever been this close to either of her two brothers? She didn’t think so. And, boy, did it ever feel good to be able to count on him for some good, no-nonsense advice.

  And, of course, to make her deliveries.

  She reluctantly pushed away from him. “I guess you’d better make those deliveries.”

  Jack scanned her face, as if trying to decipher her emotional state. When she smiled and tried to blink back a veil of tears, he grinned at her. “You women are a mess, you know?”

  She laughed and cried simultaneously. “I know. I don’t have a clue how you put up with us.”

  “Because being around you guys keeps me sane. Makes me realize how bad things can really get,” he teased. Then he gave her a tight, brief hug. “And because I love each and every one of you.”

  She blinked up at him.

  “Like sisters, of course.”

  She laughed. “Of course.”

  LATER THAT NIGHT everything at Benardo’s Hideaway was running like clockwork.

  Well, except for the irritable chef who couldn’t cook, and the still unfilled pastry chef position.

  At least the electricity was back on, Ben thought. That was something.

  Of course, until they figured out who had cut the line to begin with, he couldn’t say with any certainty that the culprit wouldn’t do it again.

  Ben could also do without the negative press the restaurant was already getting. At first his problems had been a passing mention. This morning he’d earned an entire paragraph in the Confidential’s food critic’s corner. “Is Benardo’s Hideaway beginning to slide away into the night?” was just one of the remarks worthy of note.

  Ben stood just inside the kitchen door, looking through the round window at the customers beyond. Everything appeared normal enough. The diners were laughing and drinking and eating just like any other night. Except that maybe a couple more tables than usual stood empty. And that a few of the guests seemed to be looking around as if waiting for something to happen.

  But it was one guest in particular who held his attention most.

  “Guess who.”

  Warm soft hands slid to cover his eyes, making him smile wider than he had all day.

  He hadn’t expected Reilly. In fact, when he’d talked to her an hour or so ago, she hadn’t breathed word one about making the drive out to the coast. She’d said something about finishing up an order then soaking in a hot bath and reading a good book before calling it an early night.

  Ben slid his hands up her arms, awfully glad she’d either changed her mind or lied to him flat-out.

  “Heidi?”

  Her hands froze.

  He chuckled then pulled her to his front so he could haul her to him, stiff back and all.

  “That wasn’t even near funny,” she said, her hazel eyes shooting fireballs at him.

  “So my sense of humor needs a bit of an adjustment.” He grinned. “Care to help me with it?”

  “No.” She pushed against his chest. “Actually, you’re not even the one I’m here to see.”

  He raised his brows, admitting to a stinging sensation in his stomach. “Oh?”

  She made a face at him and he had the feeling he was goin
g to pay for the Heidi comment. “Yes.” She picked up a blue bag with bows all over it she’d put down on the floor. “I’m here to see Fabio.”

  “Fabio…” Ben said slowly.

  He crossed his arms, watching as she moved to tap the surly, round chef on the shoulder. Fabio stopped barking midorder and turned to look at her, his face instantly softening into a smile.

  Ben considered hiring Reilly on the spot if just to keep the old chef manageable.

  “Oh, you should not have,” the Italian born Fabio said, throwing his right arm wide and catching her in a bear hug.

  “You haven’t seen what’s in the bag yet,” Reilly objected.

  Fabio gestured widely. “Does not matter. So long as it is from you, no?”

  Reilly laughed and fished something out of the bag. “Here. Let me take that napkin you have tied around your shoulder,” she said. She carefully replaced it with a red sling bearing white words that read That’s “Boss” to You.

  Ben rubbed his chin and grinned.

  He watched as she pulled items out of the bag one by one. A specialized under-the-cast scratcher. A megaphone for the moments when he thought no one was listening to him and finally a collapsible chair so he might rest from time to time.

  Fabio’s smile was as big as the kitchen. “You, you are the most beautiful woman in the whole world, Signorina Reilly.”

  Ben took in her deep flush as Fabio kissed her heartily on both cheeks then turned to show off the gifts to the rest of the staff. Ben didn’t miss the groans from the cooks who had been taking the brunt of Fabio’s bad temper up until now, but the sounds were good-natured because Fabio appeared to have made a complete one-eighty the instant he laid eyes on Reilly.

  Ben looked Reilly over from the top of her sexy head to the tips of her sandal-covered toes, knowing exactly where Fabio was coming from.

  The door to the kitchen swung open and a server entered. When the door closed again, Ben stepped to it to look out.