by Maggie Gates
I gritted my teeth, “I’m not going with some airheaded bimbo who’ll just pick at her plate the whole time.”
Astrid raised an eyebrow, her clinically perfected lips turning into a thin line. “You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”
“Ast—”
She held her hand up and I heeled like a damn dog. “Who is she?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Who is she and how long has it been going on?” She asked again while she pulled out her phone and began tapping away at it like a woodpecker.
I pressed my hands to the kitchen island to keep from strangling her. It wouldn’t take much effort—she’d snap like a twig. “Not your concern,” I repeated.
“It is very much my concern where your image is concerned. Why you’re being so hostile about this one is beyond me.”
I sighed and looked up from the speckled marble. “Madeline Dorsey and it’s new. Very new. So, I’d appreciate it if you kept a lid on it until I say so. Got it?”
“Please tell me you did not sleep with that girl,” she laughed sarcastically. When it sank in that I was serious, her eyes bugged out of her head. “Even you can’t possibly be so boneheaded that you would screw an empl—”
“That’s enough,” I snapped. Usually, I was fine with Astrid’s pointedness, but not when it came to Maddie. “I’m telling you like it is. This thing between me and Maddie is new, and I expect you to do your job and keep it away from the court of public opinion.”
“And if it gets out?”
“Spin it like we’re the food industry’s new power couple or some shit like that. I don’t give a fuck, but you do not put out anything without my approval. Clear?”
“Crystal,” she said without looking up from her phone.
“Anything else?”
“Use a condom,” she sneered. “You don’t want anything tying you to this town.”
“I own a restaurant here,” I countered.
“You know what I mean,” she said, strutting to the door and adding, “I’ll check back in next month with an updated list of vetted dates for you.”
She was out the door before I could grab a knife, fillet her, and feed her to the fish. I was so fucking wound up, but as soon as my phone flashed with Maddie’s name, I felt the knot in my gut begin to loosen.
Maddie: You still awake?
Luca: Yeah, beautiful. Everything okay?
My phone rang the minute I responded to her text. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Maddie said. Her voice was quiet and timid. I wasn’t sure if she was just sleepy or if there was something on her mind. I knew from watching her around her friends and the staff at Revanche that she was a damn good actress. She could put up a front with the best of them. But with me, she’d let her guard down only a few times.
Sitting outside her hotel room in California.
On the deck of her boathouse.
Watching her come apart in my arms as I drove her to orgasm.
“You alright, Tesoro?” I asked.
“Um, what?”
I chuckled quietly as I stretched out on the couch and crossed one ankle over the other. “It, uh, it means “treasure” in Italian, but it’s more like a term of endearment. Our version of darling.”
“I like that.” Maddie’s voice was soft and I could envision her curled up in that big bed of hers, smiling in the dark. I wondered what kind of pajamas she wore. Were they big and cozy or thin and easily torn? Did she sleep naked? The thought had me reaching to tame my dick. Her quiet whisper was like a dream. “So, DeRossi’s not just a fancy stage name? I didn’t know if you were actually Italian.”
“Full blooded,” I smiled. “My grandparents immigrated from Livorno when my mom was in elementary school. My dad was born in Brooklyn, but his parents were immigrants too.”
“I remember you telling me about your sisters. You said they’re both married with kids?”
I closed my eyes and stretched an arm behind my head. “Yeah, shit—Daniella has three and, uh, Anna-Marie has three now too. She just had a baby girl last month. Hold on, I’ll send you a picture.” I pulled my phone away from my ear and scrolled through my photos until I found the one I wanted and texted it to Maddie.
“Wow,” she said quietly.
“That’s the whole crew at the hospital when Valentina was born.” Crew was an understatement. My whole family still lived in Brooklyn, so everything was a big affair. My parents and my sister’s in-laws, my mom’s parents, and my other sister and her kids had all crammed into the hospital room to meet the newest addition.
“You, um, you have a big family.”
“And loud, but Nonna says we yell because we love each other.”
Maddie giggled. “I’d like to see that.” Damn, she was going to wreck me. She muttered something unintelligible before quickly adding on, “I—I didn’t mean it like that. Luca, I swear—”
“It’d be okay if you meant it like that, you know.” I grinned. “Look, I’m glad you called because there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“The James Beard Awards.”
“What about it?”
“I want you to go with me.”
Her tone picked up in excitement. “Did Revanche get nominated?”
“Not to work, Mad. I want you to go as my date.” I cracked a smile, “Or I can go as your date. I don’t have a problem being Mr. Chef Madeline Dorsey for the evening.”
“God, why are you doing that?” she groaned.
Her exasperation had me full-on belly laughing. “What do you mean, Tesoro?”
“Why are you making me fall for you so hard, Luca?”
“I could say the same thing about you,” I teased. There was a comfortable silence between us. A confidence knowing that we were finally on the same page. When I finally spoke up again, I said, “So, about the awards—It’s, uh, it’s in September. It’ll be after Labor Day, so things should slow down enough for both of us to be able to get away. What do you think? Spend a few days in the city with me? Go with me to visit my family in Brooklyn?”
“You plan on being here until after Labor Day?” She asked, completely circumventing the whole wanna meet my family thing. There was a surprise in her voice that cut me deep. That little hint of surprise meant that she still didn’t trust me.
Did I plan on being here after Labor Day? I’d have to have Astrid find a new place for me to stay, but in the off-season, that shouldn’t be a problem. I checked in with my other restaurants on a regular basis—they were all self-sustaining and profitable.
I had a condo in L.A. and an apartment in New York City that were sitting empty. Sure, I’d have them ready for whenever I had to go there for appearances, but neither of them actually felt like home and I owned those outright. I knew the beach house was a temporary rental, but it felt like home.
Did I really have a good enough reason to leave? I sure as hell had a damn good reason to stay.
“To be honest, I haven’t really figured it out yet, Mad.”
“Oh.”
“Tell me something.”
“Hm?”
“Do you want me to stay?” I was going for it. I was pushing her and I knew it. This thing between us—whatever it was—was new, and yet I felt like I’d been chasing Maddie for a lifetime.
Maddie was quiet for a long time and I assumed she had fallen asleep. “Luca?”
“Yeah, beautiful?” I mumbled through a daze of exhaustion.
“I don’t hate you being here.”
I groaned as I turned and flopped onto my side like a breaching whale. There was a perfectly good king-size bed just down the hall, but talking to Maddie on the phone, stretched out on a lumpy couch was a comfort in itself. “Is that the same as you wanting me to stay?”
“Why’d you pick up when I called?” She asked, ignoring my question.
“Why’d you call?” I countered.
Her voice was slow and quiet,
probably laced with a sleepy smile. I wished I could have seen it for myself. “Because I knew you’d pick up.”
21
———
MADELINE
It had been the weirdest workday in the history of workdays. Two days had passed since Luca and I had christened the pastry kitchen. I had immediately scrubbed every single surface after we put our clothes back on. I did it again when I showed up the next day—long before the rest of my staff—to give it an extra thorough clean. Today I showed up ready to kick some pastry ass and was greeted by boxes.
A lot of boxes.
And a very sexy Luca in a crisp, navy suit and burgundy tie, holding a boxcutter.
“What’s all this?” I asked as I surveyed the room. It looked more like a mail distribution center than a commercial kitchen. Javier and Delores, a baker in training, piled up behind me when they came down the stairs.
Luca’s mouth curved up in a devious smirk. “Nothing fancy, just some new tools and utensils. A new stand mixer. There’s a new cart that needs to be built too—It folds up flat. Figured it’d be useful when you and Rae deliver wedding cakes.”
My jaw hung open and I didn’t do a damn thing to close it. “Chef DeRossi…”
Luca smiled sheepishly before steeling his expression to one of indifference. He cleared his throat and nodded to the stairs. “Chef Dorsey, a moment in my office if you don’t mind?” He passed the boxcutter off to Javier and put his hand on my lower back to lead me upstairs.
When we got into his office, Luca closed the door, captured my face in his hands, and kissed me like I had never been kissed before. His lips were warm and still tasted like the half-eaten cinnamon roll that was sitting on his desk. The shadow of scruff on his jaw scraped my cheeks like sandpaper. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he slid his hands down my waist to my hips, pulling me closer and closer.
“Morning, beautiful,” He mumbled when we finally broke away for air.
I clasped my hands behind his neck and blushed. “Morning, you.”
He tucked an unruly strand of hair behind my ear and rested his palm on my cheek. I instinctively leaned into it, reveling in the safety and peace I felt at his touch. Luca stroked my cheek with his thumb and smiled down at me. “It’s been too long since I’ve kissed you.”
“It’s barely been forty-eight hours,” I teased.
He shook his head as he leaned down and pecked my lips one last time. “Too long.”
“But you get me all to yourself tonight.”
“That I do, Tesoro,” he beamed. “You, uh, you sure you can’t skip out early?”
“I have work to do and so do you,” I reminded him, poking my finger at his lapel.
Luca groaned and tossed his head back in disappointment. “How ‘bout I just close up the restaurant? Then we can both go home and I can have you all to myself.”
“I’m getting off early in the middle of the summer—you should feel so honored.”
“When I do I get you all to myself, say, for an actual weekend?”
“Hurricane season,” I quipped. Hurricane season technically stretched from the beginning of June to the end of November, but our storms tended to hit in the fall. Good thing business slowed down after Labor Day anyway.
He spun me around and put his wide hands on my shoulders. Luca began to work at the tense knots that never seemed to go away. The more he massaged my shoulders, the more I relaxed into him. “Have you given any more thought to New York?”
“I’ve thought about New York, yes.”
“So, is that a yes, you’ll go with me?”
I forced myself to pull away from Luca’s touch or I’d get sucked into it all day and not get a single thing done. “Can we talk about it tonight?” I asked, turning back to face him.
“Of course.”
“Luca, about the new equipment—”
He shook his head and crossed his arms over his mile-wide chest. “Scott got the same haul for his staff, but yes. It was for you. I want to make your life easier.”
Not the answer I was expecting. “You bought me bowls and whisks?”
Luca chuckled, “Don’t pretend like you didn’t like it. I’ve seen you eye the supply catalogue. You look at kitchen equipment the way other girls look at shoes.”
“I’m not like other girls,” I smirked.
He grinned. “Don’t I know it.”
I glanced at the clock and sighed. “I have to get back down there. Was calling me up here just a ploy to kiss me or did you actually need to see me?”
He anchored his hands to my hips and pulled me close again. “Did I need to see you? Yes. Did I need to see you about work? No.”
I eased up on my tip toes and initiated the kiss. It was a fleeting peck, but no less effective. “I’ll see you tonight, Luca. Text me your address?”
He nodded and gave my ass a mischievous pinch. “Tonight, beautiful.”
When I got back down to the pastry kitchen, Hannah Jane was standing at my work table with an almond croissant and a cup of coffee from Queen’s in hand. “Well, I was beginning to think you were dead, but the pastry order kept showing up to the inn on time, so I figured you were just camped out here.”
“Busy season. You know how it is,” I shrugged as I tied my hair up in a bun and grabbed my clipboard.
Hannah raised an arched eyebrow and sipped her coffee. “I got worried when you bailed on drinks at the bar, and then I heard from Steve that you didn’t come home from the watch party until really late. He also mentioned that a certain someone showed up with you and stayed for a few minutes.”
“Steve’s worse than a damn grandma.”
“So, is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“That you’re seeing him?” Hannah asked as she popped another bite of her croissant in her mouth. “Or at least finally sleeping with him?”
“Geez,” I grabbed her arm and yanked her out the back door that led out to the dumpster pad so that my staff wouldn’t overhear. “Between you and Luca I’m never gonna get any work done.”
Hannah grinned and tucked her short, chocolate brown hair behind her ears. “So that’s a definite yes. Spill.”
I glanced back at the door. There was no way in hell I wanted all of this to get back to the staff, but Luca wasn’t exactly being subtle. “We may or may not have hooked up after the watch party.”
She threw her croissant and coffee filled hands in the air and squealed. “I knew it! The whole time the competition was airing he looked like he was three seconds away from throwing you over his shoulder and hauling you into his office to fuck you over his desk.”
“That’s more or less what happened.”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “So, give me the more or less—why are you being so cagey about this? You sleep with guys all the time.”
“Wow, way to make me sound like a whore, Han.”
“You know I didn’t mean it like that. You’ve just always been able to separate sex from dating, unlike perpetually single me.”
“You’ll find your person.”
“And given how hush-hush you’re being, I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that you might have found yours.”
I looked down at my sensible black work clogs and kicked at a stray piece of gravel. “I’m going to his place for dinner tonight.”
Hannah’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re taking off work during high season to have your boyfriend cook for you? Damn girl, this must be serious for you to do that.”
I crossed my arms, “It’s not like that. He knows my schedule—Rae’s running dinner service.”
“You make your own schedule and since when do you let Rae run dinner service?”
“Since I fucking decided to schedule her that way!” I shouted. “It’s not a big deal!”
“It is!” Hannah argued. “Mad, you haven’t actually dated anyone since I started working at the inn, and how long has that been?”
“Fine, point made,” I grumbled. It had been a whil
e.
Hannah finished off her croissant and wiped the powdered sugar off her fingers. “This is a good thing, Mad. You deserve some happiness.”
“I’m perfectly happy, thank you very much.”
“Stop pretending like you don’t know exactly what I mean. If sexy ass DeRossi makes you happy, then go for it.” Hannah glanced at the sophisticated gold watch on her wrist and sighed, “I gotta go. Bridezilla incoming in T-minus fifteen minutes.”
I grimaced. Hannah Jane and I often shared wedding clients and I knew exactly just how bitchy brides could be. The two of us swore that we’d never let each other act that entitled when our time to walk down the aisle came. “Just the bride or is a mom-zilla making an appearance too?”
Hannah snorted, “God, I hope not, but if Steve and Chase show up and haul me away in handcuffs—the bitch got what was coming to her.”
I cackled as I turned to walk back inside and Hannah started off toward the inn next door.
✽✽✽
The hours flew by. Wholesale pastries were crafted, and cakes were baked. Mousses, gelées, sorbet, gelatos, and custards were made. Individual batards were shaped and rising, lined up like soldiers, ready for the oven before they would be put in bread baskets for dinner service.
I loved working in the mornings. It was a flurry of organized chaos. Tasks were timed down to the minute and my staff always showed up ready to slay. It was going to be a great weekend.
“Chef Dorsey?”
“Yes?” I looked and spotted the server standing at the stairs.
“There’s a table who wanted to send their compliments to the chef for their dessert.”
“Thanks, I’ll be up in a sec,” I smiled and quickly finished plating an example of the dessert I wanted Rae to replicate for dinner tonight.
“Table fifteen. On the roof by the fireplace. Two gentlemen.”
“Got it.” I hung my apron on the hook by the stairs and uncuffed the sleeves of my chef coat. Hurrying up the stairs and through the kitchen, I gave Scott a quick salute as I headed up to the rooftop dining area. I scanned the area for the table I was supposed to greet and—
