by Abby Knox
Chapter 6
GiGi
Later that week, the tourist crowds died down. The locals were coming back out of the woodwork, but slowly. Things were kind of quiet. On the one hand, it wasn’t good for GiGi’s ledger, but on the other hand, it gave her time to map out the wedding cake for Rosie and Ash.
They had both agreed to let her brainstorm ideas on her own, and then meet with them next week to tweak those ideas.
She sat in the half-empty dining room on a Friday afternoon with a Sharpie and some construction paper. She didn’t know why, she liked to draw out her pastry ideas this way. The staff bustled around her getting ready to open for dinner in two hours.
GiGi was finishing a sketch of a cake in the shape of Bourbon Street, with the street and buildings made of cake, and a little parade down the middle with molded chocolate people and musicians made of molded gilt chocolate. At the end of the parade would be the bride and groom, tiny representations of Rosemary and Ash, if she could manage that much detail. GiGi tapped her Sharpie to her lip when thinking about the things that would put it over the top. The street should look like brick. There should be the iron balcony railings made out of sugar-work. Ivy and floral vines draping down from the balconies. That would be tough, but GiGi was an expert flower sculptor.
As she looked up to gaze out the window in thought, who should walk by but Thor. Not the actual Avenger, of course, but Vann West and his flowing golden locks. And then he was stopping. Oh shit. And then he was looking through the glass, shielding the glare of the afternoon sun from his eyes with his hands. Shit, shit, shit. She had a mind to dart into the back office at the sight of him, but he had spotted her. It was too late.
He tried the door, but of course it was locked. She breathed in nervously as she rose to let him in. She could feel his eyes on her through the plate glass window as she walked.
“Hi,” she said, cracking the door open and letting him come in.
“Hi,” he said, smiling broadly at her. Damn him and those amazing white teeth, shocking blue eyes that seemed oddly familiar.
“Can I help you?”
“I have a proposal for you,” he said, stepping inside, his massive chest accidentally grazing her breasts.
She blushed and grinned stupidly as she locked the door again. “It’s a little early in the relationship for that, don’t you think? We haven’t even been on a date yet.”
“Well,” he said, “I meant a business proposal. I feel like an asshole about stealing the DuChamps-Boudreaux wedding out from under you. I know that would mean a huge payday for you. So how about I contract with your people. I pay them what I pay my people, I pay you what I pay my executive chefs. You won’t even have to do any work, you could just be a consultant for this gig.”
GiGI narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Having the upper hand.”
“Not at all, I came here to extend an olive branch. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other and I don’t want there to be awkwardness between us.”
She looked him up and down. He was wearing tight Levis and black Chuck Taylors. His hair was down, brazenly flowing over his giant biceps like he knew exactly how good he looked. His black Misfits T-shirt was too tight to be legal. Was he really expecting anyone to believe he was into that band? He’d probably had a personal assistant pick that up from Urban Outfitters or something.
Still, she couldn’t help but smile at that bad-boy grin on him. And he was right; they needed to clear the air. But she wasn’t going along with his terms. “You can keep the menu. I’ll handle the cake. Like we agreed last night. Frankly, I’m relieved that it’s all I have to focus on, so maybe then I can try to enjoy myself a little. It is my best friend’s wedding, after all.”
“OK, great. If that’s the way you feel,” he said.
“It is. And anyway, I wouldn’t want anybody else’s staff working on the cake.”
“You don't trust me?”
She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I heard what you said on that Foodie Network contest. During the pastry challenge, you said something about baking and desserts are for the lightweights and for people who can’t handle the rowdy crowds who work in the kitchen. You don’t have a love for flour, butter and sugar, then I don’t want you or any of your people touching that cake. Desserts are about love. Especially a wedding cake. I’m afraid there would be bad juju in the cake if it wasn’t made with a whole heart. It sounds kooky, but that’s how I feel.”
“Fair enough.” He hesitated. “I mean, I was heavily edited on that show, but OK. You got me.”
“Anything else I can help you with?” She was eyeing her work table and was itching to get back to her Sharpie and paper.
“Yeah, actually. I came here also to ask you on a date.”
So he was serious about that?
She must have looked surprised because he continued, “I did have a little too much to drink last night and I kind of spilled my guts. Hope I didn’t scare you off.”
GiGi thought about that. A dude who is basically living the life she wants to live and looks like Thor and compliments her food and stalks her on Facebook…when she has no life? How in the world would she be scared off by any of that?
“Sunday. We close after brunch. My days off are Monday and Tuesday, in case you’ve forgotten what restaurant workers’ schedules are like,” she said with a wink.
“I’ll pick you up Sunday afternoon. And wear something sexy. I want you out of those work clothes,” he said, scanning her crew shoes, black pants and ratty chef coat.
“I don’t own anything sexy so I’ll just have to show up naked under a trench coat if that’s all right with you,” she replied.
“Suits me fine. I’ll supply the whipped cream.”
“Better be homemade and made with love, TV Man.”
GiGi had no time to go shopping between Friday and Sunday, so Rosemary came to the restaurant to help GiGi pick through some of her clothes.
Rosemary waited in GiGi’s office while GiGi showered. Fortunately, there was a shower stall in the ladies employee restroom, from when the building used to be a boarding house of dubious repute. This might have been only a legend, but in New Orleans, anything was possible.
When she finished showering, Rosemary was waiting in her office holding up a light blue sheath dress with spaghetti straps.
“I don’t know…it’s awfully revealing,” GiGi said.
“GiGi, it has all the important bits covered. Plus, I have a feeling that dress ain’t staying on your body for long.” Rosemary winked at her.
“Rosie! You are nothing but trouble!” GiGi said, feigning scandal.
“Says you and everybody’s mama between here and Shreveport. Now put it on and let’s see what we got,” Rosemary said. “I am over-the-moon excited for you to be going on a date, let alone with a celebrity!”
GiGi rolled her eyes while Rosemary clucked at her and applied winged eyeliner. “Girl, will you hold still, I’m ’bout to stab you in the eyeball with this thing.”
“Sorry, Rosie,” GiGi said.
“So, listen,” Rosemary said, “There are things you need to know about Vann.”
GiGi chuckled. “Doesn’t everyone in the world already know everything about him? His re-runs are never not showing on the Foodie Network.”
“Well, it’s personal stuff. It’s not a big deal and he should tell you himself. He’s not a one-night stand kind of guy. He’s a lot like my Ash.”
GiGi blinked. “Who is having a one night stand? It’s our first date, we barely know each other, and also I’m pretty much still a virgin, so…”
Rosemary looked concerned. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea. If he tries to bed you, it’s a big deal.”
“Well, it’s a big deal to me, too. Listen, dating is supposed to be fun; you’re making it so intense. I always thought you were the fun cousin.”
Rosemary playfully slapped her on the knee and picked up an eyebrow penci
l. “And don’t you forget it! I’m just beating around the bush, and I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go ahead and tell you.”
“Tell me what?” GiGi asked, eyes bugging at her cousin and best friend.
But before GiGi could get an answer, the blue-eyed, blond-haired massive rock star chef was darkening the door of her office.
Chapter 7
Vann
“Tell her what?”
Vann had overheard a part of the women’s conversation as he strode toward the back of the cafe. He said those words at the same time as GiGi was saying hers. The difference was, Vann already knew the answer.
“Vann!” GiGi said, noticing him in the doorway. There was that sweet smile of hers, now slightly dolled up with lipstick. He loved that face of hers bare, but she was just as lovely with a little makeup. Rosemary had done some little naughty wing thing with her eyes, and he liked it. She looked like a pin-up girl from the 1940s. Not sure it was completely GiGi’s style, but it was working for him.
“Maybe I’ll leave that to you, now that you’re here,” Rosemary said. “You have my blessing.”
Vann laughed. “So glad to hear that I have your permission to date whomever I please.”
Then turning back to GiGi, the only face that was of any interest to him right now, he said, “You were already locked up, but your server let me in. Sorry for barging in on your makeup sesh, but I couldn’t wait another minute to see you. Hope you’re hungry.”
On the outside, Vann’s house was an unassuming, tidy little restored bungalow in the Freret neighborhood of New Orleans, tucked into a row of similar homes, some turned into art galleries, some into bars and others as rental homes for Tulane students.
On the inside, GiGi could hardly believe this was really the home of a famous celebrity. It wasn’t because it was ostentatious or bachelor pad-looking. Totally the opposite of what she expected. She was surprised with how traditional and cozy it was. Against one long wall were built-in shelves filled with books. There was a reading nook in the window overlooking the neighborhood street. There was a cozy seating area with overstuffed couches, floor pillows, and antique side tables. There were touches of antiques everywhere but nothing ultramodern. No sports memorabilia. The kitchen was enormous, as she would have expected. Warm brickwork and a built-in brick oven in the wall, and a kitchen fireplace. “This house is…quaint!” she said.
Vann chuckled. “Thanks, I think. I wanted a soft place to land, where I could relax, and be a creative space but also good for raising a family. I’m not much for modern bachelor pad style.”
She goggled at the wall of books. “I can see that. I mean, I can totally see this room decorated for Christmas. No joke.”
He helped her slide off her coat, and one of the straps of her dress fell off her shoulder. His hand was warm as he fixed the strap back into place. “That’s what I was going for,” he said, huskily.
GiGi could feel his eyes on hers. His deadly serious gaze made her feel both unsettled and excited.
“I smell meat,” she said, glancing toward the kitchen area. I smell meat? Did those words just come out of my mouth?
Vann gestured for her to have a seat at the breakfast island, and then he took out of the warming oven a tray of appetizers to feed a family of five. She didn’t know what to try first.
GiGi settled on a smoked salmon and asparagus puff pastry thing. She pulled it apart just to check his technique, and could see the layers. This was fresh, and made with real butter. It melted in her mouth.
Oh my god, that is good. Then she felt his eyes watching her again. “Enough love in that for your liking?” he asked, pouring her a glass of wine.
“You win. You totally deserve the wedding contract.”
“I know.”
“Cocky much?”
“I worked hard to get here, and I’m not shy about claiming what’s mine. You should take a lesson. You’re a great chef and you should own that.”
“I do,” she said. “I’m a fucking awesome chef. Pastry and otherwise.”
“Good. Then I think we could be a good match.”
She looked in his eyes and she knew it was true. She also saw something else there, but it seemed so totally ridiculous. “I’m going out on a limb here, but…you look like somebody else I know.”
He smiled. “And so do you,” he said, sipping his wine.
“It’s weird, but you have the exact same eyes as this dog…well, technically it’s a wolf. It comes around every once in a while and I feed it in the alley at night.”
Vann set out a board of baked brie, sliced Anjou pears and nuts. “Huh, weird,” he said.
And then she got distracted by the aroma of the cheese. “Oh my god, I live for cheese,” she exclaimed, scooping up a pear with a hunk of gooey brie, drizzled with honey.
“I know, right? The only thing I love more than cheese and meat is cake. No, not cake. Just icing.. So what are you planning for the wedding cake?”
“Well,” she said, scanning the plate and spotting some interesting chutney she had to try next, “I have yet to meet with Rosie and Ash, but she tells me I can have free rein. However, I don’t know about Ash. I feel like he said something while he was drunk that he wanted some over-the-top Mardi Gras-style cake with a parade down Bourbon Street. So I might do something like that. With buildings and little musicians and a float with a bride and groom.”
She shook her head and silently chided herself for talking with her mouth full of chutney. Holy shit, this was good. “I don't know why anybody would want to live in the middle of all that noise,” she said.
Vann smiled. “That's our Ash. He’s just a wild man, I guess.”
GiGi looked at him concerned. “He’s marrying one of my best friends, so you’d better not be telling me he whores around.”
Oh no,” Vann said, getting up to check on something in the oven making a delicious aroma. “He just loves parties. Believe me, now that’s he’s settled, it’s for good. There’s no two ways about Ash. Once he picks you, you can’t get rid of him even if you try. Kind of like a stray dog. All of us are like that.”
She smiled, thinking of her Buster. “That’s good to know. I have to admit, I was a little worried that they haven’t known each other for very long. I guess I don’t share that innate sense about other people the way she does.”
Vann refilled her wine glass, then reached across the island, his hand closing in on her face. “May I?” he asked.
GiGi wasn't sure what he was going to do, but she decided to find out. All he did was tuck her lock of hair back behind her ear. It was the sweetest, most tender gesture she could recall from a gentleman on a date. “You’ll know when you find your mate,” he said.
She smiled at this choice of words. “‘Mate' seems like an odd, old-fashioned kind of word for modern party people like you and Ash. Does this have something to do with what Rosemary was hemming and hawing about? She acted like there was some big secret. Are you an alien?”
He smiled but looked a little bit sad, in a way that made her a little scared. Could it be he was sick? “We’ll get around to that subject sooner rather than later. Let’s just talk about you. What do you do for fun?”
“I spend almost every waking moment at the cafe.”
Vann pressed. “Let’s say by some miracle, you had two days entirely to yourself. What would be your perfect weekend?”
GiGi sighed and said, “I would love to just get away. Get out of the city, and I don’t know, be on a boat maybe? Go up the river or out to sea, where there are no people calling my phone and popping in front of me to ask questions, and just do nothing but watch the sun rise and then, I don’t know, read a book. I would love to just sit down and read a book.”
“Done,” he said.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“It means eat up, because I’m taking you on my boat.”
Chapter 8
Vann
He wasn’t sure if GiGi looked impressed or disappoin
ted. He supposed that her uncle had many boats, most of them far bigger than this one.
She turned to him. “Nice yacht. Don’t you have anything bigger?”
Vann laughed and then hopped from the dock into the deck. Before she could reject his offer to help her aboard, he was lifting her up on to the deck as if she weighted nothing more than a feather.
Before he set her down he took a moment to gaze into her face as they were at eye level. She looked away. “What’s on your mind?” he asked.
She breathed. “Feeling a little intimidated, I guess”
“No need to be. You should get used to this. I’m very interested in taking care of you.”
He set her down and she said, “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“No, just you.”
“You do know how to cook for me, I’m not gonna lie,” she said.
“I do other things besides cook, you know. And I’m very good at those other things.” He moved in closer to get a read on whether or not she would like a kiss. He was going to kiss her either way, he just wanted to gauge how soon.
“I don’t really have any other needs,” she said, with blood rushing to her lips and cheeks.
“Oh, but I think you do,” he said. “Your life is out of balance. You work hard, but nobody is feeding you.”
She looked a little bit scared. He hugged her small waist with his beefy arms.
“And you’re trying to feed my ears with words because you’re also really good at talking,” she said with a smirk.
“Nope,” he said. His fingertips grazed her cheek. He traced a thumb across her cheekbone and he detected the slightest of sighs and flutter of eyelashes. At this response he took it a step further and laced his fingers into her locks of dark, wavy hair. He tilted his head close and brought her temple to his nose. He breathed her in. Her scent was strong but homey, like browned butter and spice. Her closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against hers. The feel of her skin reminded him of bed, waking up underneath cozy flannel sheets on a frosty morning. How he would love to wake up just like that, and reach over under the covers and feel her there, lying on her side, the curve of hips calling to him…her rolling over to say good morning…her limbs reached out to pretzel around him. Allowing him to wake her up with his mouth, plunging into her hidden depths, still warm from sleep.
