Free Hungry for More (2012) by Chelsea Scott, D. Oland, J. Welch Page B

few bites left, but Paul picked up his plate too.
    “Hey!” the little boy exclaimed.
    “You’re finished.”
    “Are we going to have des s ert?”
    Bridget was glad that Paul shook his head no, even though Tad began to whine.
    “I’m sure you have something important to do back at the apartment,” Paul said in a piqued tone that let Bridget know just how badly she’d stung him.
    “Mr. Devoe…” she said quietly, regretting that she’d hurt his feelings . “I just-!”
    “Don’t let me keep you!” he snapped, and then turned on his heel, dismissing them just like that.

Chapter 7
    “ Unbelievable… ” Paul muttered under his breath as he returned to the kitchen.
    He slammed the two plates onto the counter, and then looked up- only to discover that the sous chef and a couple of commis were looking at the untouched shark.
    “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU STARING AT?” Paul roared, in even less of a humor than usual to deal with their curiosity or pert remarks.
    The sous chef smirked, “What’s the matter, Devoe,” he said in the careful sneer of a man who knew that the dog that he was taunting was trapped behind a fence, “Your kid didn’t like it?”
    “Tad loved it,” he answered, without thinking to yell back that it was none of his business.
    “It was the nanny who didn’t eat it?” one commis asked in disbelief.
    The man beside him snickered, “That has to be the first meal that she’s missed in her entire life!”
    All three of the men started laughing, but two of them stopped when they saw Paul’s face. It had turned completely purple.
    “WHAT IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?” he growled so loud that it hurt his throat. The two commis chefs stumbled backwards, but it didn’t take them away from his wrath. “You think that’s funny? It’s funny to you worthless jerks to make jokes about my friends?”
    “Er…yes, Chef! I mean-! No, Chef!” One stammered. It was too little, too late.
    “You sniveling little piece of vomit!” Paul hissed, grabbing the man by the chef coat and then ripping the garment off. He reached for the other man, but was evaded. “Get out of here!” he bellowed
    Even the sous chef looked pale. Somehow he gathered the courage to speak, “Er… Chef Devoe… ”
    Paul whirled around, “Don’t think I wouldn’t throw your sorry ass out too if you weren’t so far up the investors’ butts!” He shot the man a withering glance, and then turned his fury back on the hapless pair of commis. “Get out!” he screamed again, waving his arms and practically herding them out the door.
    At least the service went smoothly after that.
    There was loads more prep work to do- after all, they were two men down- but Paul’s violent explosion of temper and the continuance of his vile mood worked like a tonic on the rest of the crew. Paul had never worked a smoother dinner in all of his life!
    Bridget didn’t have to deal with any screaming, but her afternoon wasn’t precisely ideal. Tad made a scene before they left the restaurant. He was confused by his father’s disappearance and heartbroken that he didn’t get to see the kitchen after all. Bridget couldn’t help but feel responsible for the situation, and so she was extra indulgent all afternoon. They stopped at F.A.O. Schwartz on the way home. She bought Tad a plush shark and a box of d ominoes. They spent the evening learning how to play.
    As soon as Tad was put to bed, Bridget fixed dinner for herself. She planned to have some salad (Paul left a bowl for her on the second shelf) and some plain chicken…and maybe a fat - free pudding for being good, but Tad didn’t finish the dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets that she had fixed for him and she didn’t want to throw them away. She polished them off, and then had a handful of chips. After all that junk food, she decided that it wouldn’t hurt to have a cookie or two…or five…or twelve .
    She had a problem. Bridget’s eyes were watering as she carried the empty packet