He’d caught a glimpse of some of the gossip columns over the weekend with reports the opening had been a huge success. But today’s write-ups were what he was truly waiting for, and something he wouldn’t read until he was at the restaurant with Lise and the crew and a bottle of wine.
That was his way, his tradition and superstition when it came to openings. He shared the good, or bad, with those who had helped him create the magic, and he hoped today would bring them all the great news they so richly deserved.
As he headed down to the parking lot and his phone came online, he saw a text from Lise: Bonjour, Julien. Don’t you dare read a thing until we’re together. You know the rules, and I’ve behaved, even though it’s just about killed me.
Julien smiled and shot back a quick response. Bonjour, Lise. I haven’t checked, you have my word. Priest confiscated my phone. As soon as the message was received, he got one back.
Lise: I knew I liked that man for a reason.
Julien: thought you’d appreciate that. I’m on my way. Have that champagne ready. I have a good feeling about this.
Lise: You got it, boss. See you soon.
Julien was about to pocket his phone as the elevator reached the parking lot, but as he stepped out, another text popped up, this one from Robbie in the group thread. Julien laughed as he walked to the Range Rover.
Robbie: Sending positive vibes and kissy faces for when you finally turn your phone on.
He’d added several emojis and then obviously decided that wasn’t good enough, because he’d attached a selfie in full pucker mode, those juicy lips and twinkling eyes making Julien automatically think back to the sensual wake-up call he’d received that morning.
Dieu, his men sure knew how to distract a person. Between the two of them, Julien had been so preoccupied that he could honestly say he’d barely had time to think about anything other than them since Priest had rolled him to his back between Robbie’s thighs and obliterated any other thought than the three of them.
But now that they were gone, the day ahead was back in full force, and Julien knew the sooner he got to the restaurant, the sooner everyone there—including himself—could breathe a sigh of relief.
As he unlocked the SUV, Julien was about to open the door when a man behind him said, “Excuse me?”
Julien startled slightly, so caught up in what he was thinking about that he hadn’t even noticed anyone around. But as he turned to see who was there, he heard a loud swoosh cut through the air, and after that—everything went black.
Chapter Eighteen
CONFESSION
I have never liked Mondays.
And now? Now I fucking hate them.
ROBBIE STOOD IN line at The Daily Grind and opened up the browser on his phone to do a little research now that he was on his own. It had been killing him not to be able to check out the reviews this morning, so he could only imagine what Julien must be feeling if he was this impatient about it.
As the line he was in moved forward, Robbie typed into the search bar, Reviews for JULIEN Chicago location, and when he hit enter, it brought up several writes-ups, all of which had been posted today.
Robbie’s heart thudded as he clicked open the first one, from the Tribune. He couldn’t wait to see what other people thought of his man, and the headline alone said it all: Serving Up a Feast for All the Senses.
He quickly read through the food critic’s experience and thoughts regarding the ambience of the place, but it was the food Robbie knew Julien would be most interested in. A couple of paragraphs in, he saw it.
Once again, I am stunned by the sheer magnificence of Mr. Thornton’s ingredients and his talent for discovering all they have to offer. I have never tasted a more flavorful veal tenderloin, or delicately handled swordfish, nor a more expertly roasted breast of guinea hen. The man is a genius – anything prepared in one of his restaurants is a feast for the senses and takes you on a new adventure with each and every bite.
“Can I help you?”
The loudly issued request had Robbie’s head snapping up from the phone and focusing on the young girl behind the register.
Stuffing his cell into the back pocket of his jeans, he beamed at her as he walked up to the counter. “Yes, so sorry. Can I have a Dreamweaver, please? I’m so glad you guys made that a regular. It’s to die for. Also, an extra-nutty hazelnut latte. Both to go, please.”
“You got it. Anything to eat?”
“Hmm.” Robbie looked at the pastries, and all he could think of was how he would kill to have one of Julien’s soufflés right about now. “How about two ham and cheese croissants and two choc-chip muffins?”