Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 86799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86799 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
“Welcome to Menu. I’m the restaurateur. We hope you enjoy the experience of dining here and making new friends just as much as we intend to enjoy serving you,” he says, like a robot. “Can I start you out with some wine? We have a Shiraz from Uruguay. The grapes are harvested under a full moon.”
I blink. Is he for real? Also, who says restaurateur?
“I’ll have a beer, please,” Axel says.
“A martini for me,” I say. “Thanks.”
The man’s brow furrows. We’ve flummoxed him. “Are you sure? I mean, the full moon.”
Axel smiles. “And what does the full moon do for the wine?”
I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist asking. Truth be told, I was gearing up to inquire too.
“It’s how the grapes are harvested,” the owner answers, speaking in a circle. “And what about food?”
“Is it harvested under a full moon?” Axel asks, and I snort, wanting to kick him to shut him up but wanting him to keep going too.
“No. It’s foraged. My chief forager does it himself.”
“Ah, of course,” Axel says, then looks to me. “Ladies first.”
I wait for Axel to pull the rug of the comment out from under me with a barb about how I’m no lady. But he doesn’t, so I give the owner my order—the beets and the mushroom risotto, while Axel opts for seared salmon with rosemary and asparagus.
“Thank you. And may I wish you the best interaction with the real world.”
He turns and goes.
I cock my head, watching him, trying to get a read on the guy.
Axel stares too, then turns back to me. “Do you get the sense they’re trying too hard?”
“Just a little bit. I mean, foraged food?”
“And restaurateur?” he asks with an eye roll.
“Not to mention full moon grapes.”
“Also, does this restaurant not know what the other hand is doing?”
“Right?” I say, enthused he keyed in on that too. “On the one hand, it’s all let’s be digital and read the menu online, and on the other hand, it’s let’s go forage and experience people.”
“It wants you to love its quirks, even though they make no sense. I knew this was going to be a mistake.” Axel leans back in his chair, huffing, but also giving me a view of his annoyingly handsome face.
Why are jerks so hot?
Seriously? Who decided that sexy jerks could ever be good-looking? With freshly fucked hair, and undress-me eyes, and those goddamn black glasses that get me every time, Axel Huxley is the sexiest jerk of all.
The worst part? When I see hints of the man I used to know in his clever remarks, his sly observations.
The way we once got along.
But I won’t be fooled again. Hurt me once, shame on you.
Hurt me twice, and I’m going to write my own damn name in Sharpie at the top of my whiteboard list of people who’ve pissed me off that week.
I’ve made my own shit list plenty of times.
I put my self-protection back on, so I’m not fooled by the banter. “So, what’s the story with you kicking the tires here tonight, Huxley? Is this how the Nefarious Ned hires a hitman to take down Brooks Dean?”
The corner of his lips curves into a grin. “You know my new hero’s name.”
I roll my eyes. “Obviously I know who Brooks Dean is.” Only the former-lawyer-turned-avenging-bounty-hunter-for-hire who traipses around Europe, solving heists and retrieving precious stolen goods as he falls in love. “You did mention twenty million times he’d be your next hero,” I remind him.
“If you say so,” he says.
“Oh my god, what do you think I do? Read your publisher’s blurbs that far in advance before the book comes out?”
He smirks, then points at me. “Don’t you? You can’t resist keeping tabs on me.”
I scoff. “You wish.”
“But Nefarious Ned? C’mon, Hazel. Give me credit. My villains have better names than that.”
I wiggle my fingers. “All right. Serve it up. Your next villain. What’s his name?”
Axel’s grin turns wicked. More wicked than I’ve ever seen from him. “Hazel. Her name is Hazel.”
Damn it. I walked right into that one.
But I’m saved by the restaurateur. The man in the sports coat returns with our drinks, depositing the beer in front of Axel, and the martini in front of me. Then he frowns. “I’m so sorry, ma’am. We’re all out of beets tonight. Pea shoots too.”
Bummer. I do love a good pea shoot dish. “No big deal. I’ll skip the apps. Just mushroom risotto then?”
He winces. “Apologies. Our chief forager canceled the dish. The mushrooms made him mad. We have chicken with kale picked from our rooftop garden though.”
“She doesn’t eat meat,” Axel cuts in. “What do you have for vegetarians?”
The man’s eyes pop. “Um…I could bring you the kale and some pistachios on the side?”
Gee, that sounds filling. But I can eat edamame at home later. “I’ll just have the drink. Thanks.”