The Flirtation Game: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance by Allie Burton

Author:Allie Burton [Burton, Allie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Alice Fairbanks-Burton
Published: 2016-10-23T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

In the middle of the second turn, Isabel used her festering fury to whip the batter harder. She’d been being friendly with Sam, nothing more. She’d known him forever, and there’d never been anything personal between them. Sam was happily married, and Michael had no reason to accuse.

“Isabel.” Michael sounded desperate. “We need to talk—”

“I don’t want to hear an apology.” She whipped the batter faster.

What did she find so attractive about him? Sure, he was good-looking and successful. And they had a spark of connection even Danielle and Luke had noticed. Michael was a great brother and uncle. In private moments, he was nice and professional. He believed in her chef skills, when he wasn’t berating her. It was like he switched on the meanness. Why?

“There’s a couple who want to discuss menu options for their wedding.” He choked, as if he didn’t believe in marriage or happily-ever-after.

Which would explain his reputation of dating a ton of women. She dated lots of guys too, because she searched for her soul mate. Maybe she needed to find a way to douse this spark, to sever their connection, if she didn’t want the same future as his other women.

“In the middle of dinner?”

“They’re visiting from out of town. They’re VIPs.” His expression darkened. “The bride-to-be refused to take no for an answer.”

This must be the same couple she’d met in the restaurant the other night. The woman who’d been disappointed to meet her instead of Michael. The woman who wanted him to teach her a few things.

Her poor fiancé.

Isabel didn’t want to deal with self-centered clients. “Why do I have to meet them?”

“Hello?” An annoying female trill came from the hallway leading to the chef’s office. “Where’d you go, Chef Mikey?”

“Chef Mikey?” She held back a snort.

“Quiet.”

The petite, dark-haired woman tugged the man with the two-colored hair into the kitchen. Staff stopped to stare at the invasion of their space.

“Miss Jones.” Michael moved to block the couple from the kitchen.

“Call me, Betsy.” She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed as if he were her private plaything. Her too-tight dress yelled for attention. Her heavily-made-up face was photo-shoot ready.

Isabel’s fingers itched to slap the woman’s bejeweled hand away.

“I asked you to wait in my office.” He shot daggers at the man slouching in a casually-expensive button-down shirt and black jeans.

Strange he’d treat a VIP client that way.

“Why wait in an office when I can see where the real work is done?” Letting go of Michael, Betsy breezed into the middle of the kitchen. She trailed her fingers across counters and cutting surfaces.

Isabel’s mouth dropped open. Everything would need to be re-sanitized. Gripping the spoon tighter, Isabel punched the utensil into the batter. Why didn’t Michael toss them out?

“We don’t allow clientele in the kitchen.” His voice hardened, but not as hard as he’d used with the staff.

Where was the total jerk when they needed him?

“Oh, phooey.” Betsy jumped onto the counter, her petite butt smearing flour. “My daddy always said rules don’t apply to me.

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