Reagan turned and faced a woman with her hair pulled back into a tight bun, pursed and red painted lips, and designer clothes. They were the same height but only because the other woman wore four-inch heels. Reagan’s first impression of her was that she was a woman who got what she wanted. The rasp in her voice alone made Reagan’s stomach clench. Add in the sexy and serious look she had and that feeling increased tenfold. Too bad her demeanor screamed “stay away.”

Reagan broke away from her gawking when Amy said, “I’m sorry, ma’am. We don’t have any tables left. I can put you on the list, but a table won’t be available for at least thirty to forty-five minutes.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” she mumbled as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “How are there no tables left? It’s not even the lunch rush anymore.”

“Well, there’s a b-big convention in town and—”

“I know that. I’m not an idiot.”

“Of course not, ma’am,” Amy said, her eyes widening.

Reagan felt the frustration coming off the woman in droves. She’d dealt with customers like this often, especially when she and Gwen had opened their first restaurant, The Silo. She had to help run the front of the house often rather than staying in the office. Mitigating tense situations came easily because she genuinely liked people and wanted to see them happy. When they weren’t happy, they tended to vent their frustrations publicly, whether that was a rant on Facebook or a bad review on Yelp. Knowing this was her friend’s livelihood and deepest love, she stepped in.

“Excuse me?”

“What?” The woman turned toward her, eyes narrowing as her hands moved to her hips.

“I’m sorry. I was about to be seated at the last table. Would you like to share?” The woman opened her mouth, most likely about to protest, but Reagan continued. “I promise I won’t bother you. Look at it out there. Downtown is packed. You’re already eating late, so I’m guessing you’re a busy woman. I bet you don’t want to go try your luck again anywhere else.”

The woman hesitated. Her eyes darted out the door and then back to the crowded dining room before settling on Reagan again. The furrowed brow softened, and the corner of her mouth quirked. Letting out a loud sigh, she turned to Amy and said, “That’ll be fine.”

The stiffness in Amy’s shoulders released as she picked up two menus. “Follow me.”