CHAPTER ONE:
first encounters.

   The clanking of dishes and soft hum of french music was background noise that Alana was all too familiar with. In a white button up and black slacks, the brunette gently places her table's plates on her tray.

"You got a new guest in your section, Lana, it's your stalker," the brunette's favorite coworker and best friend, Fatima, voice crackles through her walkie talkie, her voice taking on a teasing tone.

"Copy that boss," Lana rolls her eyes, a smirk on her face as she picks up her tray and walks across the kitchen towards the exit. "Behind you," she calls out as she passes a chef. Gracefully kicking the double doors with her leg, she saunters through the rows of tables until she stops at one with a sophisticated couple. "Risotto aux champignons," Lana pronounces, a french accent coming out as she speaks. She lifts the plate off her tray and places it in front of the blonde hair and bright blue eye woman. She then grabs the other plate and places it in front of the man on the other side of the table, "Noisettes de chevreuil poêlées."

"This looks delicious," the man says, picking up his knife and fork.

Lana gives him a polite smile. "Is there anything else I can get you two?" She asks, her hands gripping onto the tray.

"No, no we should be fine," the man says, cutting into his venison.

"I'll take another glass of wine," the woman tells her, before taking a sip from her glass. "Chilled, please."

Alana nods. "It was the Chateau d'Yquem Sauternes, yes?"

"Yes, I believe so," the woman nods.

"I'll actually take another drink too," the man adds on, his fork lifted near his face. "Do you have any ales?"

Lana shakes her head. "Unfortunately no, we do have a Pastis if you're not interested in wine?" She offers.

"Ahh, that's fine. I'll take that."

Lana nods. "I'll be right out with your drinks," she tells them before moving on to the next table.

The brunette pulls out her notepad and fountain pen, glancing at the man seated in front of her. Her brown eyes examine him, this is the fourth time she's seen him this week and every time he always asks to be seated in her section. It's become a running joke for her co-workers to tease her about, although the guy has been leaving her nice tips so she's not gonna complain anytime soon.

Neither Lana nor the man have made any move to make a connection other than their waiter/customer routine they have going. She hasn't even bothered to ask for his name and vice versa. Lana takes note of the guys features, his hair is at an awkward length, it looks like he may have cut it a couple of months ago and is trying to grow it out. Stubble covers his stoic face, his hardened whiskey eyes rapidly scan the menu. Veins run along his hands that hold the menu; he looks to be about 30 years old so not too old for the 24 year old.

Lana clears her throat. "Can I start you off with any drinks?"

"I'll take a water," the brunet's raspy voice speaks up from behind the menu

Lana nods. "One water, can I start you off with any apéritif?"

"Can I have the uh, assiette hors-d'oeuvres?"

Lana smiles. "Of course," she tells them, her pen scribbling his order messily onto the paper. "I'll be right back, with your water and hors-d'oeuvres."

The tall brunette maneuvers her way through the tables, stopping as a guest asks for a new straw. Lana hands the guest a straw before making her way to the kitchen, hanging up her repeat customer's order. "Assiette hors-d'oeuvres, table 26," she calls out before beelining her way towards the bartender to request drinks for her other guests.

The brunette saunters her way towards the bar, where Mike is wiping down some glasses.

"Enchantée," Mike smirks.

"Your accent is getting better," Lana tosses back playfully.

"What can I do for you," Mike flirts, putting the glass down and leaning forward.

"I need one Chateau d'Yquem Sauternes, chilled and a Pastis."

"Anything for you," Mike teases.

Lana rolls her eyes. "And water, for table 26."

Mike's eyes darken. "Is it that guy again?" He asks, turning around to pop open the cold wine bottle and putting it in front of Lana, a cheesy smile on his face now.

The brunette nods. "Yeah, guess he really likes our appetizers," she shrugs, despite her mind screaming 'bullshit'.

Mike hums. "Well one water, and two drinks," he tells her, placing them in front. His blue eyes follow her as she places the drinks on top of a tray, hiking it up with one hand.

"Thanks," she smiles, making her way towards her two occupied tables.

"One chilled Chateau d'Yquem Sauternes and one Pastis, is there anything else I can get you two?" Lana smiles, her customer service voice taking over.

"No no, you've been lovely," the man says, hitting his glass against his wife's.

"Okay, let me know if there is," the brunette smiles, turning to walk away.

"Actually, could we get the check?" The blonde speaks up.

"Yes, of course, I'll go get that," she assures them before walking away to drop off table 26's water. "Here you go, and the  apéritif will be out in a couple of minutes."

"Thanks Alana," the brunet comments before taking a sip of the water.

The young girl freezes in her spot, her eyebrows furrowing at the sound of her name releasing from his lips. Never have they exchanged names, not once, so how in the hell did he know hers? Alana continues to run over the possibilities.

"What's up buttercup?" Fatima asks curiously.

"You know the guy who's been coming in a lot this week?"

Fatima looks behind her friend, her brown eyes looking away quickly as she sees the exact man in question's hardened glare. "Mhm."

Lana glances back to the shaggy brunet sipping on water. "Yeah, he knew my name."

Fatima shrugs it off. "He probably heard one of us call for you, we're not exactly a quiet bunch."

Alana mulls over the thought but eventually concedes. "You're probably right," she admits before turning to yell into the kitchen. "L'apéritif est-il prêt?"

The only answer she gets is the plate sassily being slammed down on the counter in front of her. "Merci," she rolls her eyes dryly. "I'll be back," the brunette tosses over her shoulder as she heads towards table 26.

"Here you go," she glides the plate in front of him.

She watches as he pulls out a phone. "Actually, I have to go."

"Oh, um, okay," Lana shuffles awkwardly. "Do you want me to pack it in a to-go bag for you?"

"No no, it's okay," he assures her, taking out a wad of cash and pulling out four twenties. He tosses them on the table before speed walking out the restaurant.

"What the hell was his problem?" Fatima asks her friend.

"I have no idea."

   Alana bids goodbye to the cooking crew before watching them head out the back door. She quickly falls into her routine of locking the door, checking that all appliances are off, and heading out the door herself. The brunette throws on her jacket before grabbing her purse and locking up the front of the restaurant. She sighs as her brown eyes overlook the empty streets, her attention being caught by a daunting black SUV parked across the street. A chill rattles down her spine, her breath picking up a bit as an unsettling feeling of being watched hugs her.

Alana quickly turns around, speed walking down the street. The sound of an engine starting and headlights warming her back make her break into a slight jog. She rapidly turns the corner of the building, harshly bumping into someone with a scream.

"Oh my god," she grabs her chest as her eyes level with the couple that was in the restaurant earlier.

"Honey, are you okay?" The woman asks, her hand gently holding onto Alana's shoulder.

Alana struggles to catch her breath after the fright. "Yeah," she whispers. "I just...overactive imagination, you know?"

"Happens to the best of us," the man grins. "I'm Harrison, this is my wife Yasha."

Alana smiles at the two.

"The restaurant is lovely," Yasha compliments, a slight Russian accent hidden between her words. "Have you been working there long?"

"Uh, yeah, kind of," Alana nods politely. "It's my uncle's."

"Well give him our best," Harrison grins.

Alana nods. "Thanks, I will, um, actually do you guys... do you mind walking me to my car? I have to turn down this alley and I get kind of nervous going down it at night."

"Of course," Yasha agrees, her arm linking onto Alana's.

Alana subconsciously keeps up the small talk with the couple as they head to her car. Her mind, however, was too occupied on the shady SUV that was all but following her. Then again, she could be overthinking and they might have just coincidentally decided to leave as she was walking down the street. But then why would they be going at a somewhat slow pace?

"Which car is yours?" Harrison breaks the younger girl from her thoughts.

"Oh, this one," she points to the silver Honda.

"This is a nice car," Yasha comments, her eyes looking towards her husband.

"It gets me where I'm going, that's all that really matters to me. Well that and an apple play so I can listen to music."

Harrison slaps the back of her car. "That's all that really matters, am I right?"

Lana looks at him oddly. "Right," she smiles. "Well thank you so much for walking me here."

"Of course you are welcome," Yasha graciously replies. "Hopefully we'll be seeing each other soon?" She offers, her eyes looking towards her husband.

"Oh yes, definitely, the food at your restaurant is to die for. We'll be back," the salt and pepper hair man confirms.

"Nice meeting you," Alana tells them before entering her car and starting it up. She looks in the rearview mirror as she backs up, her eyes meeting the couple that are happily waving bye to her.

She shakes her head at the odd couple before driving off into the night.

NOTES.
here i go again updating every book except the one people keep begging an update for. so sorry if any of u are LMF readers i swear i'm working on the next update. anyways i had to look up a french restaraunt menu bc i realized that i have never had french cuisine and i really don't even know what it consists of.