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Guiding the Grouch
-- EXCERPT: As he listened to three more calls from Monique, they got progressively more annoying. The call from just an hour earlier ended with her making threats to “have Daddy fire you” if he didn’t come home and fulfill his holiday obligations. “Maybe I don’t want to be there,” Gabe said, unaware of his dark glower or that he spoke aloud as he scrolled through a dozen of Monique’s infuriating text messages. “Maybe I’ll skip every holiday from now until the end of time. Maybe I actually despise Christmas and all the hoopla of the stupid, stupid season!” “Well, aren’t you a grouchy one,” a teasing voice spoke from beside him, “I believe you could use a dose of Christmas cheer before you whip out the phone book and begin alphabetically listing all the people you hate. Or is it loathe?” Gabe had no idea about her reference to the phone book, and he didn’t care. Irritated at being interrupted, he glanced up and stared at the server. The stunning woman smiling at him could have been an angel as the overhead lights created a halo around her golden hair. Hers was a rare beauty. The kind that didn’t need makeup to enhance it, although she wore a light coat of mascara and lip gloss. She was of medium height and willowy, with high cheekbones, a generous mouth, and hazel eyes that twinkled with mirth. If she lived in New York City, he had no doubt she’d be in high demand as a fashion model. What was a woman with her looks and seductive voice doing in such a backwater place taking food and drink orders? He envisioned her in a ruby-red velvet evening gown, strolling on his arm to a symphony performance. The picture in his mind was so real, so clear, he felt the oddest sense of knowing this woman deep in his soul. Dumbfounded by his thoughts, Gabe felt like someone had sucked the air right out of his lungs. The woman slid the menu closer to him “Chef Owen is one of the best in the Pacific Northwest. You can choose anything and know it’s going to be wonderful. Take a look at the menu. I’ll be right back.” The angel strode across the room, walked behind the bar, and disappeared through a doorway before he could engage enough brain cells to utter a single word to her. Gabe picked up the menu, but it might as well have been written in hieroglyphics based on his sudden inability to read. It was like his brain had just decided to take a vacation and left him in the lurch.
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