A Date with a Foodie (The Dating Series Book 7) Read online

  Until now.

  My return is strictly business, but that didn’t stop me from making a reservation at Madeline’s restaurant. I wasn’t surprised when I read the yearly alumni magazine and came across her name. She always had a passion for food and could turn the college staple of top ramen and peanut butter and jelly into a meal fit for a king. Timing for us, was our enemy from the start. Madeline had just started college and I was on my way out. Still, we made the best of it, promised to keep in touch once I moved and figured we’d run into each other someday in the future.

  We never kept in touch and it’s now the future.

  My reservation for Maddy’s Tavern was for the latest possible time. I did this for a couple of reasons. One, I wanted the restaurant to be as empty or quiet as possible because I wanted to take in her accomplishments without the hustle and bustle of a packed place. Two, I wanted personal attention from Maddy because I wanted to see if she remembered me, and if she did, if she harbored any ill will toward me. It was, without a doubt, my fault that we didn’t keep in contact. Once I arrived in New York with my first job, I was on the go from three in the morning until at least eleven, if not later. I survived a full year on coffee and donuts. A caffeine sugar high to get through my days, first as an intern who became an assistant, who then became the low man on the totem pole, sent out in the hazardous conditions or to a slaughtering plant to cover animal cruelty. I took every assignment given and never said a peep. When I was offered a job as a junior producer, I accepted it, even though it wasn’t what I wanted to do. It was then, I realized, I was never going to sit at the early morning table and deliver national news. A life behind the scenes was what I was good at, even though it wasn’t my dream.

  The hostess sits me at a table for two—if nothing screams single—I don’t know what does. From here, I have the perfect view of the Navy Pier—lit up in all its glory. The streets of Chicago are busy. It’s warm out, I can see some of the boats anchored in the lake with their lights on. Aside from the small chatter around me, I can hear some of what is going on outside. There’s music, laughter, and the general feeling of summer, which is something I’ve never experienced in Chicago until now.

  When the hostess hands me the menu, I ask if Madeline is available and chuckle a bit when she refers to her as Ms. Metcalf. I also notice the term Ms. over Mrs. and internally give myself a high-five.

  “I’ll see if Ms. Metcalf is still in the building, Mr. Paulson.” The hostess walks away, and I’m completely taken by the amount of professionalism Madeline’s staff has. From the moment I walked in to just now, I’ve been treated with more respect than I ever have from any other establishment.

  A young man dressed in black plants and white shirt and a black apron brings a glass of ice water to my table. I take note of his attire and appreciate the color of his apron, which hides any stains, but something tells me if he had one, Maddy would insist on making him change.

  “Good evening, my name is Robert. Have you ever dined with us before?”

  I shake my head and smile. “This is my first time.”

  He beams. “Great. Thank you for joining us tonight. Would you like to hear the specials?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Instead of looking down at his pad, he focuses right on me and goes through the whole spiel. Everything sounds amazing but I end up deciding on the balsamic glazed porkchops and the orange creamsicle cake for dessert. Usually, I’d wait until the end to order a treat, but he politely tells me there’s only one piece left, and he wouldn’t want me to miss out.

  As soon as he has my order written down, he nods and speed walks away. I glance around, noticing the well-polished floors, the antique looking bar, and rich dark colors that you wouldn’t normally find in a tavern. What strikes me as odd is that every chair is in place. There are no stranglers or haphazard chairs sticking out, even at the bar. The linens are soft, the utensils are sturdy, and the water glass is etched with the tavern’s name on them. I shouldn’t be surprised. When Maddy and I dated or hung out as the kids like to call it now, she was meticulous in everything she did. I asked her once, asking if she had obsessive-compulsive disorder because I wanted to make sure I wasn’t adding to any anxiety she might feel. She told me no, she just liked things to be uniform. As much as I wanted to adopt her way of thinking, it would’ve never worked for me back then.

  It doesn’t take long for Robert to set my dinner down in front of me. Balsamic glazed pork chops, mashed potatoes, and caramelized brussel sprouts. My mouth waters at the site. Every single bite is perfection. I savor every single second of my meal. That’s when you know you have a good dinner. You don’t want it to end.

  After I’m done, Robert comes back and sets down a tray with an assortment of drinks on it, along with my dessert. “You’re probably wondering what this is all about.”

  “I am,” I tell him.

  “You’re my last customer of the night and I’m training to get my bartenders license. I wanted to offer you an array of drinks that would pair well with our cake, as well as a cup of coffee, freshly brewed.”

  Normally, this would irritate me, but considering the young man is trying to advance his career, I smile and reach for the coffee. I need the pick me up after the long day of travel. Granted, New York to Chicago is a two-hour flight, but I’ve had numerous meetings today, both here and back home. I’m exhausted.

  “I taste something tangy.” I set my cup down and look at my waiter for confirmation.

  He smiles and nods excitedly. “Orange zest, just a dash. You’ll find it’ll blend well with the cake.”

  “And the rest of these?”

  He rattles off an orange vermouth, blood orange martini, and an orange dreamsicle floatini, all of which taste amazing. I’m a social drinker, but then it’s mostly a scotch or gin. Tonight, however, has really changed my tastes. I’m interested in what he’s brought to the table and let him know. His smile, wide and bright, shows me my acceptance has made his day.

  I’m three bites into my cake when an attractive woman approaches my table. She introduces herself as Katy, the manager of Maddy’s Tavern, and asks if I still need to see Ms. Metcalf.

  “I’d love too, if she’s available. I don’t want to take her away from her work or bother her at home.”

  The woman smiles and assures me it’s no trouble.

  Within minutes, the chef and namesake of this fine establishment is striding toward me. I quickly swallow the piece of cake I stuck in my mouth as soon as Katy turned her back and smile at Maddy.

  She smiles back but it doesn’t reach her eyes, not like it had when we were younger. I stand, hold my hand out and as soon as her hand is in mine, I pull her close and kiss her on her cheek. She turns rigid, and I fear I’ve made a mistake.

  We step back at the same time and apprise each other. I can easily say not much has changed about her. Her naturally dark auburn hair is pulled away from her face, mostly likely kept hidden under her chef’s hat. I expected a chef’s coat or an apron, but she’s dressed like her employees, black pants and a white shirt. But it’s her eyes that really grab my attention, just as green as I remember them being. And while I stand here, gawking at her, I fear as though she’s forgotten me.

  “Am I crazy or do you not remember me?” It’s a horrible question to ask, but I don’t want to look like a fool. Granted, there are very few patrons left at this time of night.

  “I’m sorry, but I see a lot of customers in a single night. Have we met before?”

  I take another step back, unsure how I should proceed. I’ve never been smooth with the women and aside from the time Maddy and I were whatever we were, I’ve had one other girlfriend who turned into my wife, who then became my ex because I’m cold, out of touch with reality, never home, and unable to express myself properly. Her words, not mine.

  “I know I have a couple gray hairs, but I didn’t think I had changed this much. Maybe if you have time, I can refresh your memory? I motion for her to sit ac
ross from me and she does. Maddy folds her hands on the table and keeps her eyes steady on me. Great, I love nothing more than being scrutinized.

  “Okay, where to start.” I clear my throat and push the cake away slightly.

  “Did you not enjoy the cake?”

  “What?” I follow her eyes down to my plate. It’s half eaten and to a chef, a pushed away plate generally means something is wrong. “Oh, no, not at all. This cake was delicious. I plan to finish it once we’re done speaking.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “Do you really not remember me?” There’s a hint of desperation in my voice. “Adam Paulson. We went out in college for about seven months.”

  She studies me hard, her eyes roaming over my face. Back and forth until a sly smile spreads across her lips. “Adam,” she finally says my name and my heart jumps in response. “Yes, I know who you are. I wanted you to think I didn’t. How many years has it been?”

  “Too many years to count. I owe you an apology.”

  She chuckles. “You came all the way to Chicago to apologize?”

  “Well, yes and no,” I tell her. “I’m here on business and I saw your name in our alumni magazine and wanted to come see your place for myself. I’ve read the reviews, everyone loves it here.”

  Maddy looks around and there’s no mistaking the pride she has when she sees her hard work pay off. She nods slightly and turns back toward me. “So, what’s new?”

  “I work in production.”

  “But not on television, huh?”

  “No, still media related so I guess that’s something.

  “Wow, I thought you’d be the next Dan Rather.”

  I scoff and then groan. “Believe me, I tried. I guess I just never had the face or magnetism to make on TV. I did some sideline reporting for a bit but never caught my big break. I think I was so eager to be on a nationally syndicated show that I missed my opportunity at the local level. I could’ve risen through the ranks.”

  I’m tempted to take a bite of the cake, but don’t want to be rude. But it would also be rude to let it sit there and not eat it, regardless of who is sitting across from me.

  “That’s crazy. I remember it being all you ever wanted. Do you remember making those tapes, late at night?”

  I nod slowly. “With the on the shoulder camcorder I picked up at the pawn shop.”

  Maddy laughs. “Those were fun nights.”

  “They sure were.” I lean closer. “I may be way out of line here, Maddy, and if I am just say so, but I’m in town for a few days on business and I’d love to take you out.”

  Her lips move into a grin and then fall. “As much as I’d love to, I work most nights.”

  “During the day then? Coffee? A walk on the pier. My time is very flexible.”

  She stares at me as if she’s contemplating it, but then she nods toward the kitchen door.

  “I should probably get back. I always tell my crew that we are a team. I don’t want them to think I’m slacking on the job.” Maddy stands and so do I.

  “Breakfast?”

  She looks skeptical but finally nods. “Meet me at the café on the corner. I’ll be there at nine.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Maddy walks the length of the bar until she stops at another table. I sit down and finish my cake, leave a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill on the table with a note to my server: Good luck on your test! and leave with a little more pep in my step because I have a coffee date with Ms. Metcalf.

  3

  Madeline

  Playing it cool is definitely not my strong suit. The last thing I want is for Adam to know he flustered me. The man is even more gorgeous now than he was all those years ago. The wisps of gray in his dark hair is sexy as hell. Unfortunately, the last thing I need is to get involved with someone when I know they aren’t staying. I have my business to run and it’s my number one focus. Still, I couldn’t resist his invitation to breakfast. The corner café I told him to meet me at has the best cream cheese pastries other than Camryn’s. I wish Camryn would make them more often. That’s why I have to get my fix every once in a while at Daphne’s café.

  It’s ten minutes till nine and the café is only a block away from home. It’s a warm July morning so I opted to wear a pair of navy shorts and a navy and white striped shirt with a pair of brown sandals I’ve never worn before. I haven’t been out and about in a long time. I’m so used to wearing my restaurant attire. I can’t do that this morning. I want to look nice. Not that it really matters. Meeting Adam for breakfast is just that, nothing more.

  I walk into the café thinking I’m early, but Adam is already at a table, waiting on me. There isn’t a hair out of place on his head and he’s dressed in a pair of khaki shorts and light blue polo shirt. Very cute. His smile reminds me so much of the past. Or maybe it’s the butterflies in my stomach. Taking a deep breath, I smile and wave.

  “Good morning,” I say, joining him at the table. There’s already a glass of ice water waiting for me as well.

  He nods at it. “I would’ve ordered you a glass of orange juice, but I didn’t know if you still drank it or not. It’s what you used to always order back in college when we’d go to breakfast.”

  He’s right. I’m surprised he remembers that. “You would’ve been right,” I reply with a smile. “I still my drink my orange juice every morning.” I pick up the glass of water and take a sip. “But the water’s fine too. Thank you.”

  The waitress comes over with her pad and pencil, wearing a cute little dress. Her name is Catherine and she smiles at Adam before focusing on me. “Hey, Maddy. Do you want the usual this morning?”

  Adam lifts his brows. “The usual? What might that be?”

  Catherine giggles. “Orange juice with two cream cheese pastries with two to go.”

  Adam laughs. “Nice. I think I’ll have the same.”

  Catherine writes it down on her pad. “Perfect. Easy enough. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

  “So the pastries are really good here?” Adam asks.

  I take another sip of my water. “Some of the best.”

  It’s not long before Catherine comes back with our two pastries a piece along with two boxes with our extra pastries in them. I cut into one of my treats and slowly devour it. Adam watches me and smiles. “Not gonna lie. I was always fascinated with how much you loved food. Every time we would eat somewhere, you’d savor every bite.”

  “It’s the only way to eat.” I cut another piece with my fork and slowly bring it to my lips. Closing my eyes, I concentrate on the flavors. Pure heaven.

  Adam clears his throat and I open my eyes as he takes his first bite. He looks away and nods. “It is very good. I might have to get a dozen to go instead of two.”

  “I knew you’d like them.”

  His gaze drops down to my left hand but then he quickly focuses on his plate. “I’m assuming it’s okay for you to be out with me? I don’t want to piss off a husband or boyfriend.”

  “You’re fine,” I laugh. “No husband or boyfriend. This past year I haven’t really had much time for dating. Been really busy with the restaurant.”

  He looks up at me. “I understand that.”

  “What about you?” I ask.

  His grin widens. “No, I don’t have a boyfriend or husband.”

  I roll my eyes. “Smart ass.” He doesn’t have a ring on his finger either. “Do you have a girlfriend back in New York?”

  “More like an ex-wife,” he answers, almost as if he’s ashamed to admit it.

  “What happened?”

  He shrugs. “Work. I spent too much time away and we grew apart.”

  “I’m sorry. Do you have any kids?”

  “No,” he replies with a shake of his head. “I’m actually thankful for that. Don’t get me wrong, I want kids, but the last thing I’d ever wish on a child is to have a split family. My parents were married for fifty years before my father passed.”

  “Mine are still togeth
er and about to celebrate their forty-sixth anniversary next month.”

  We both finish our pastries and he orders another dozen to go. I’m tempted to do the same, but I’ll end up eating them all in one sitting if I do. They’re ridiculously addictive.

  Adam leans back in his chair. “So tell me more about your restaurant. I’m really impressed with what you’ve done. I don’t think I’ve ever walked into a place that had everything so in order.” Before I can speak, he leans his elbows on the table and smiles. “Then again, you were kind of OCD back in the day.”

  She points at me, giving me a half-hearted glare. “Hey, I told you before, I’m not OCD. I just like everything in place. Don’t make me stab you with my fork.”

  He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay.” His gaze roams over to the empty table beside where there is a newspaper spread out. He reaches for it and shows me the article. The title reads Taste of Chicago Coming Soon! “I plan on being in town for this. Are you going?”

  I nod. “I have a booth. I’m trying my luck at the pulled pork contest. My dad was the best at it. I took his recipe and added my own twist for the occasion.”

  Adam seems impressed and I like it. “Oh yeah? I can’t wait to try it.” All of my excitement dwindles away when I spot a certain name mentioned in the article. Adam furrows his brows and tries to see what I’m looking at. “Why did you all of sudden look as if you saw a ghost?”

  I laugh but there’s no humor to it. “Be lucky you’re not in the restaurant business.”

  “Why is that?” He folds up the newspaper and sets it back on the table beside of us.

  “Have you ever heard of August Cahill?” I ask.

  He stares at me for a second and then shakes his head. “Who is he?”

  My heart races just thinking about him, and not in a good way. “The man terrifies me. He’s a food critic that can make or break a restaurant. I’ve read about several places closing down because of his bad reviews.”

  Adam snorts. “Seriously? A place shutting down because of one man’s reviews?”