Free Hot Flash by Kathy Carmichael

poorly of me and now he seemed to think I was doing a bad job of taking care of Stephen and myself. “I’ve been taking care of this stuff for a long time.”
    “I thought you could use the help.” He sounded pleased with himself, as if I should act all girly about it. Like that would ever happen.
    He didn’t get it. I didn’t need someone tromping on what little confidence I had in my abilities. I didn’t want or need help from him. I needed college tuition, not a caretaker, even if said caretaker looked kind of desirable with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of pliers in his hands.
    “Should I wait up for you?” My son, the peacemaker, finished putting slices of pizza on a plate for each of them and apparently noticed that I was fighting an urge to order Wesley out of my kitchen.
    Deciding to let the issue slide—I mean, if some control freak wants to fix your sink and replace your lightbulbs, you might as well let him, especially when your kid seems to like him so much—I replied, “Wait up if you want. I expect to be home fairly early, definitely before midnight.”
    Davin frowned. “Not much of a night on the town.”
    “It’s plenty for me. I can accomplish a lot in four to five hours.” I turned to leave.
    “Shouldn’t you tell us where you’ll be? How well do you know this guy?” asked the-teacher-from-Hades.
    “It’s none of your business, but Stephen knows where I’m going. Don’t you, hon?” It’s where I always meet people I don’t know well because I know the guys who work there. I consider it a “safe spot,” so I’d arranged to meet Tony there just in case he turned out to be a psychopath or simply got on my nerves.
    Stephen nodded. “Patisserie?”
    “Don’t tell him! Mr. Wesley will probably try to horn in on my date or screw it up.”
    “Davin. And I wouldn’t.” He waved a slice of pizza at me. “Screw up your date, I mean.”
    “What about horning in? You didn’t mention not doing that.”
    He showed his teeth when he smiled, but he didn’t respond.
    “Night, Maman . Have fun!” As I closed the door, I heard Davin mutter, “Keep your shoes on, Cinderella.”

    Tony and I were to meet at the restaurant at seven o’clock on the dot. Patisserie was a local hot spot, trendy, near the Strip, and the food was well prepared. A cook I used to work with at the hotel, Kurt, had opened it. I probably knew half the kitchen staff, because he’d stolen most of them from the hotel. No matter how The Date went, I’d have a great dinner.
    The maître d’, Carlos, recognized me when I came in and gave me a quick hug. “I’ll let Kurt know you’re dining with us tonight.”
    “I’m meeting a date, so there’s no need.”
    “Is his name Tony?” Carlos scowled slightly. Hmm.
    “Yes. Is he here already?”
    “I seated him by the kitchen. I’ll move you to a better table right away. He asked for something nicer, but I assured him it wasn’t possible without a reservation.” Carlos rubbed his fingers together in a time-honored gesture meaning Tony hadn’t coughed up the bucks to merit one of the good tables.
    “Stiffed you, huh? I’ll have to train him better. Lead me to your best table, please.” I offered him a twenty, but Tony waved it away.
    “Are you sure you really want to meet this guy?”
    “Hey, Tony is nice.”
    Again Carlos scowled.
    “Isn’t he?” Tony seemed sweet when I met him, but maybe my first impression was wrong?
    “Yeah. He’s nice enough. Just not your type.” Carlos nudged me with his shoulder as he led me to the table. “Now me, I’m your type.”
    So that was what his hints were about. A little male posturing. Since Carlos was very married, I ignored his flirtations as he seated me. He then went to fetch Tony from whatever dining-hell he’d been subjected to. I sniffed the flower centerpiece while I waited for my date.
    A couple of minutes later, Tony approached. He was every bit as cute as I remembered. I hadn’t