An Informal Christmas (Informal Romance Book 1) by Heather Gray

Author:Heather Gray [Gray, Heather]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ladybug Lit
Published: 2015-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

Rylie sat in a circular corner booth and played with the drops of moisture forming on the outside of her water glass. The calendar said fall was moving on its way to winter with more speed than a just-fired human cannonball. There shouldn’t be condensation, but the droplets on the smoky glass attested to the high humidity and unseasonably warm weather.

Zach slid into the booth. “We’re getting more than nachos this time, just so you know.”

“Abso-total-utely.” She refrained from asking how he was. Her prying days were over, at least until the next time her curiosity got the better of her.

He was going through something, but it was apparent that he had no intention of sharing what was on his mind. Rylie’s penchant for trying to fix things worked in her favor on the job, but it wasn’t always an asset in her personal life.

“So what do you recommend here besides the nachos?”

“The tres leche and the flan. Both are divine.”

He returned her grin. “So appetizers and dessert, huh? I like a girl who has her priorities, but let’s pretend for a minute that I’m a man who needs actual sustenance. What’s good?” He waved his hand at the menu sitting beside her placemat. “And don’t you dare say the salad.”

She liked this new and improved mood of his even if it did make her question her I-will-not-pry stance. “The fajitas are out of this world, but if you want all the flavor without the fuss, get the fajita burrito. You’ll think you dived into a fajita lake, and coming up for air will be the last thing on your mind.”

“Sold.”

The waitress approached and took their orders. After she brought Zach’s ice tea, she retreated and left them in peace.

Fighting a case of the fidgets, Rylie continued to toy with the condensation on her glass. “The head of cafeteria meal-planning gave me seventy-two hours to decide. He has to order his food a minimum of ten days in advance for Thanksgiving, and we’re now at two weeks out.”

Zach took a draw on his tea. “Miguel, the guy I told you about, owns four restaurants including the one at the National Harbor. They’re high-end, the kind I can afford to work on but not eat at. He runs a charitable foundation that all his restaurants feed into. He can handle the catering and use the cost as a tax write-off, but he decided to let his customers dip into their pockets for the sake of philanthropy. People tend to be in more of a giving mood this time of year. At least, that’s what he told me. Starting with this evening’s dinner service, his wait staff will give each customer an opportunity to donate to the cause. He said he’d call me with an update in a day or two to tell me how much money’s been raised, but that his foundation would cover anything the donations don’t.”

The nachos arrived, and Zach reached with his fork to disentangle a chunk. “He

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