Amy Chambers dares you to fuck with her, to just fucking try.

But like a total cliché, it’s the neckline on the shirt that’s my favorite part. Amy is tall and lean. The V-neck has a long way to go in its deep dive. On me it would probably graze my belly button but on her it’s mid-chest. And at the right angle, when she moves a certain way, I can see just a glimpse of the small swell of her breasts.

So, no. I do not look at this shirt.

Amy sits down across from me at a two-top near the expo counter, the huge stack of files she slaps onto the table blocking the worst of The Shirt, which I am absolutely not looking at anyway.

To be safe.

“What?” She tucks her hair, straight today instead of her usual curls, behind her ear.

I blink into focus. I was so busy not looking at The Shirt I forgot to actually look at her. “Your hair,” I say dumbly. “You...changed it.”

She huffs, an amused and exasperated sound. “You sound like my brother. Yes. I changed it.” She flips open the file folder on top and leafs through the papers.

I tip the legs of my chair to one side to get a better look at her. As well as taking the hair straightener to it, she’s added an undercut beneath her bob.

“It looks good,” I say.

She rolls her eyes like she doesn’t believe me. I wish she could feel my heartbeat because between that shirt and this haircut, there’d be no question that I love it.

“It does,” I say. “I like the curls, too. I like all of your hair.” I cringe. I like all of your hair? My face heats and I busy myself with pretending to have a cough to distract her from what I can only assume was my poor attempt at flirting.

Amy’s face contorts, a frown on top and a smirk on the bottom. “Thanks,” she says slowly. “So. The menu.”

“Right.” I pull my chair in closer and open my laptop. “I know you wanted to do more seafood and I agree that it’s a logical addition, but I don’t think we should add so much.” I point to the three new seafood dishes she’s added to the mock-up menu. “We’ve got access to a great supply chain, but I think it’s going to cost a lot of money to do something that everyone else in the city is already doing anyway. Plus we have the plating to think of. One of the things people love about Amy & May’s is the domestic vibe.”

I hold up the delicate porcelain dishware that’s been set out for tonight’s service. Amy spent months driving around the state, stopping at garage sales and antiques markets, buying up sets of fine china to give the decor a homey and vintage vibe.

“I’m thinking scallops, oysters, of course, could work with this kind of dishware but if we start getting into...” I pause, looking for the word. I grew up in a bilingual household. My mother Anglophone and my father Francophone. I speak both languages fluently but sometimes my words get mixed up. Today its fruit de mer. It’s the word I want to use in English that I can’t, for the life of me, remember.