The Restaurant (The Nantucket Restaurant #1)(22)

“Great, now I need to call Stacy in and she worked a double yesterday. I hate to do that to her.”

“I can do it,” Jill said.

Gina raised her eyebrows, but looked hopeful. “When was the last time you tended bar?”

“A number of years ago, but I was good, and fast, and I doubt it’s changed very much.”

Gina glanced at the reservations book. It wasn’t full by any means, and she’d mentioned earlier that Wednesdays tended to be one of their slower nights.

“Okay. Let’s give it a shot. If you need help though, just give me a shout and I’ll figure something out.” She spent the next ten minutes showing Jill the layout of the bar and how to work the register. It was a fairly small bar, with twelve stools and a service area. Jill studied the different wines and descriptions from the bar menu and then poured herself a shot of coke. A bit of sugar and caffeine was definitely in order.

Any nervousness she felt quickly melted away once the customers started coming in and the waitresses lined up at the service bar. Jill stumbled a little at first until she got her bearings and remembered the location of the various liquors and wines, and then she was in the zone where you don’t think about things, you just react and produce. She’d always been good at multi-tasking, juggling customers and multiple orders at once. These were the skills of a good bartender, someone who had a feel for when a customer was ready for a refill or in the mood for a bit of chit chat.

Bartenders and waiters tended to do well in the world of head-hunting, where multi-tasking was a given and people skills a must. Gina stopped by an hour into dinner service to give her a compliment. “You’re really good.” She sounded so surprised that Jill couldn’t help but laugh. “I used to have a blast bartending in college. I really missed it for a while.”

“Well, you’re a natural. We can use you behind the bar any time you’re willing.” And then she was off, back to new arrivals coming through the door.

Most of Jill’s business came from the service bar. Only half of the bar stools were full, and they were mostly just people waiting for a table to open up for dinner. But a new arrival settled in while she was making a tray of martinis for one of the waitresses. A single guy about her age, if she had to guess, and quite good looking with dark wavy hair and a square jaw.

He had a notebook in front of him and was flipping through the pages as she walked towards him. He looked up and smiled, and Jill caught her breath for a moment. He was seriously hot. Dark brown eyes that were almost black, a strong nose that looked as though it had been broken at least once and those tiny laugh lines around the eyes that looked so much better on men.

“Hi, there. What can I get for you?”

“A Harpoon IPA please, and a dinner menu.” Jill handed him a menu and poured his draft beer, taking care to have just the right amount of creamy foam on top.

“Here you go. We have a few specials tonight, as well. Lobster ravioli and braised short ribs. Soup is a butternut squash bisque with asiago croutons.”

“How do the short ribs look?” he asked casually, and Jill’s stomach growled thinking of the ribs, which were amazing. She’d had a small taste of them earlier.

“They’re great. Meaty and tender in a silky reduction sauce that has incredible flavor. It’s served on creamy polenta.”

“I’ll have that, the lobster ravioli, a side of broccoli rabe and the soup to start. Oh, and an order of the antipasto misto.”

“I’ll put that right in for you.” Jill punched the order into the computer, then set silverware, a napkin, a placemat, and a bread plate in front of the relatively thin man who’d just ordered a massive quantity of food. She waved at Gina to meet her in the kitchen.

“What is it? Is everything all right?” Gina looked puzzled as the rush was pretty much over and the bar practically empty.

“Just a heads up. That guy at the bar just ordered a lot of food. Two meals, two appetizers and a side dish. Mandy said the same thing happened the other day and Gary emphasized that you’d want to know in case he’s a food critic or something.”

“Doesn’t look like one to me, though you never know. I’ll tell Paul, so he can make sure everything looks perfect.”

Jill poured a cup of the soup, topped it with the croutons, and dropped two hot rolls into a small basket, along with a few pats of butter. She returned to the bar and set everything down in front of her very interesting customer, who was busy jotting something in his notebook.

“Here you go, enjoy.”

“Thanks.” He smiled briefly and continued to write. Jill wandered off to the other end of the bar where two older gentlemen looked ready for a bit of conversation and another cocktail.

An hour later, she cleared away the last dinner plate from the mystery man. He ate silently and sparingly, eating maybe half of everything on his plate. “Can I pack any of this up for you?” It seemed a shame to throw so much food out. He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Sure, pack it up.”

“Dessert?” she asked, assuming he’d say no, but again he surprised her.

“Yeah, I’ll have a cannoli and a slice of the tiramisu. And an espresso please.”

“Sure thing.” Jill carefully made the espresso for him, adding a sliver of lemon rind as garnish, then went into the kitchen to pick up his desserts.