“Good evening!” he crows in his clipped Germanic accent. He sets the plates down with a flourish on the linen covered tables. “You're expecting one more, ja? Perhaps another lady friend? Or?"
“It’s not what you think,” Dillon huffs as he sits down at the chair at the end. He reaches out to remove the silver cover from the tray and Wolfgang slaps his fingers smartly.
“You must wait!” the chef declares, then plants his feet shoulder width apart and crosses his arms over his barrel chest. He looks like a jolly security guard. Santa on a mission.
Nodding at one of the empty seats, he beckons Bella to sit down. I tug the chair out for her politely and she slides into it, tucking her silk skirt underneath those beautiful round thighs.
“Thank you,” she murmurs politely. She is still gazing up at Wolfgang, obviously a bit starstruck. Part of me is a little jealous that she never looked quite that starstruck over either of us, even though we’re worth at least a hundred times what he is. But still, you can never underestimate the romantic power of a good chef. I’m sure the awe will transfer to us somehow.
I hear the tent enclosure open again behind me and another round of flashes and shutter sounds.
“Well, hi, Rob,” Dillon announces sourly. Bella sneaks a look at me.
“Am I late?” the man huffs, clearly out of breath from his short trip across the compressed gravel in front of the fountain. He waddles over to a chair and stuffs himself into it, probably about two inches too close to the table. With a sweaty smile, he sticks his hand out for Bella to shake.
“Bella Cage,” she nods politely.
“Of course!” he beams. “Rob Meagher, USA Today."
He sticks his hand out for me to shake, then swivels around for Dillon who does it with a slightly sour look on his face. Then he turns towards Chef Wolfgang, but just waves instead.
“Well, this is really an honor!” Rob says breathlessly. “I mean, really an honor. I don't know who I am more pleased to meet!”
“It is an honor to me too as well!” Chef Wolfgang smiles, and he almost sounds like he means it. Then, with a flourish, he removes the tray covers, revealing a baby beet and arugula salad with glistening sauteed scallops.
“Oh, wow,” Bella breathes, inhaling deeply. I see her lick her lower lip in anticipation, and wish we could skip right to dessert. That tongue of hers.
“Wow is right!” Rob repeats.
“I feel like we've had this before,” Dillon sighs.
I shoot him a look, careful not to let Rob see. Dillon is sideways in his chair, rolling a glass of iced bourbon dangerously between his fingers. I didn't see him start drinking it, but it's already almost gone. He's studiously not meeting my eyes and pretending he doesn't know that I know that he's intent on marching up to the line.
“So, I didn't realize we were getting USA Today, today,” I start, hoping to get this interview underway and then over with. “Thanks for stopping by. We just threw this little dinner together, just totally spur the moment…”
“Really?” Bella asks, her eyes wide with corny disbelief. I see Rob nodding with satisfaction. He's loving the Cinderella act.
“Oh, come on, Emmet,” Dillon sneers. “You've pulled this Buckingham Fountain act three or four times already. You should be an expert at it by now.”
Rob pouts. Literally. The corners of his little mouth turn way down, forming parenthetical wrinkles at the bottom like a Disney character.
“Dillon —” I begin, hoping he'll catch my warning tone before I have to actually say something.
“Well I just love it!” Bella interrupts. “It couldn’t be more perfect!” She turns completely toward Rob, letting her knees brush his. I can see that she’s creating a whole new personality, just for him. He flinches back, his eyes going wide. Obviously this guy doesn't get a whole lot of physical contact from the opposite sex.
“You know, I'd always heard the… stories? About the Riordan brothers?” she begins in a conspiratorial whisper. “And I don't know what's happened. I mean, could people just be making this stuff up? Because there is literally nothing like that happening at all.”
Rob purses his lips thoughtfully. “Really? But there are pictures… Surely you've seen…”
“Sure, but you know what people can do with PhotoShop these days. It’s amazing. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was all it amounted to.” She blinds him with a dazzling smile.
“Really,” he says, not sounding at all convinced. I’m sure he’s seen the pictures before editing. I wonder if he’s wondering how bright she is, at this moment.
“Honest!” she insists. “They’re practically boy scouts. As a matter of fact, I don't think I've ever even seen Dillon with a woman!”
Dillon starts to stand, but I race him out of his chair and go stand right behind him, putting a firm hand on his shoulder and shove him back into the wooden chair, so hard I hear the gravel crunching underneath the legs.
We have sparred before. I usually can actually kick his ass. I just don't want to. He knows it. After about twenty seconds, I feel him relax just slightly.