Page 2 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"I would never."

"You're a terrible liar."

"And you're insulting livestock during dinner service."

"I didn't insult the cow. The cow did everything right."

That does it. Julian turns away, shoulders shaking, while I slide the plate back toward the server.

"Table twelve?"

"Sixteen."

"Of course it is."

Hannah has worked here long enough to know when I'm irritated and is smart enough not to take it personally.

"She says it's too rare."

"Take it back. Tell her we'll prepare another one."

"Chef, this is the second one."

"I know."

"The first one was too done."

"I remember."

She waits. I sigh. "Tell her I would be happy to prepare another."

Her smile grows. "Exactly like that?"

"Absolutely not."

She laughs and disappears through the swinging doors. Julian moves back beside me.

"You're growing as a person."

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"No. Unfortunately, I don't."

The printer spits out another ticket. Then another. And just like that, there is no time for steak philosophy because Friday night in Manhattan is doing what Friday night in Manhattan does best. Demanding everything at once.

"Two halibut, one duck, three filet, one vegetarian tasting," I call.

"Oui, Chef."

"Fire table twenty-two."

"Fire twenty-two."

"Where are my scallops?"

"Thirty seconds."