“The truth, damn it.”
Nerves swirled in my belly and my skin felt hot and itchy and too tight. Was this the moment I ruined everything again? Was this my bad luck on repeat?
Wyatt and I had finally found this amazing, wonderful, incredible thing and I was going to leave him to work at Sarita. Hopefully. Okay, to be fair, I wasn’t leaving the city. But with our crazy schedules, I might as well have been leaving him to move to Mars.
“Kaya,” he growled impatiently.
I blew out a quivering breath and decided it best to just rip off the Band-Aid. This was a fantastic morning. I would probably remember every detail of it for the rest of my life. I honestly had no idea how Wyatt would react to my secret. Although, we had discussed the possibility of me leaving at some point for my own restaurant, it had only been hypothetical until now.
“Sarita,” I blurted, anxiety getting the best of me. “I’m trying out for Sarita’s executive chef position.”
“Sarita?”
I shrugged.
“Is that where you’ve been Sunday evenings?”
I squinted and tried to keep my voice from quivering from fear of his reaction. “Vera’s been, er, kind of training me to take over. Hopefully.”
“Sarita?” he repeated as if it were the most unbelievable thing he’d ever heard.
I shrugged again. “I don’t know… yeah…” Confidence bloomed somewhere near my knees and started walking its way up to my heart, one baby step at a time. “Sarita. I like her a lot. She has more of a vibe I can relate to. And I love the design of her menu and bar. I… the position opened up and I knew I wanted it. Ezra’s interviewing me next Monday.” I sucked on my lip ring for a second and then added, “Oh, so I need that day off too.”
His expression remained unreadable, mysterious and closed off. “Are you sure you want to work for Ezra?” he asked. “He’s pretty much the worst.”
Good question. But I already knew my answer. “I get that. But he also has some of the best restaurants in the city. Maybe even the country. I want to run one. I want to do the awards and the magazine spreads and make a name for myself. Ezra might be hard to work with, but I know I can reach my goals in one of his restaurants. Plus… I can’t explain the connection I feel with Sarita. It’s like we bonded on a spiritual level. I was made for her. And she was made for me.”
“What if you don’t get the job?” he asked.
“Then I quit cooking. Completely.” I laughed at my joke, but he didn’t seem to find it as funny. In fact, he didn’t laugh at all.
“Be serious, Ky. What if he doesn’t give it to you?”
What if? What if what if what if what if?
The words had been bouncing around in my head for weeks. Hell, maybe I’d been facing them for years. What if I had stayed in Hamilton? What if Nolan had moved to Durham? What if I wasn’t so defiant and at the same time, paralyzed with the fear of failure?
But for the first time in years, the question didn’t hit me quite so hard. “I keep working for you,” I told him honestly. “Or Vera and Killian. Vera has done everything but flat-out offer me the sous chef position. At least that’s a lateral move.”
His eyes narrowed. “Fuck Vera and Killian.”
“Wyatt!”
His smile took the edge off his harsh words. “Seriously though, they’re trying to poach from me already? Filthy rat bastards.”
I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “I think they’re trying to find people they can trust.”
He grumbled more curse words, but eventually he said, “That job would never have any advancement. Vera and Killian will always be ECs. You’ll only ever be a sous chef there.”
Nodding, I said, “I realize that. That’s exactly why I’m not seriously considering the position. I was flattered she asked, but the position isn’t for me.”
“She would ask. She’d be dumb not to,” he grunted. “You’re too fucking good for your own good.”
His words were meant as an insult, but they hit me right in the chest with hope and truth and a whisper that maybe Sarita wasn’t impossible.
“Sarita?” He grunted for the third time.
“I’m not going to apologize,” I told him preemptively. “I need my own kitchen, Wyatt. I feel stifled working for you and it’s not even you. What kind of chef would I be if I didn’t want my own kitchen? Besides, I have a problem with authority.” I tilted my head and smirked at him to lighten his cloudy expression.
He made a sound in the back of his throat. “That’s an understatement.”
I frowned at his attitude. “I’m sorry if this changes things for you, but I—”
“Yeah, I have to find a new sous chef. I guess there’s Benny, but I don’t know if he wants that much responsibility. And he won’t be half as good as you. I can’t hire fucking Charlie—”
“Dillon.”
He turned to me, pausing mid-rant at my suggestion. “She’s not a permanent solution.”
“But she’d be good enough for right now.”
He rubbed his knuckles over his scruff thoughtfully and I realized we’d gotten way off topic.
“I meant, I’m sorry if this changes things between us. Between our relationship.”
His gaze was laser sharp and totally focused. “What do you mean?”
“Because I could possibly, hopefully, maybe be leaving Lilou for my own gig. I’m saying if I leave, and you know, that changes things for you…”
“Why would that change anything for me?”
“I mean with our relationship.”
“I understand what you’re saying,” he quipped. “I just don’t understand why you’re saying it. Kaya, you could open a kitchen on the moon and I would still want you. Did you not hear when I said that I love you? That we’re a forever thing now? This”—he wiggled a finger back and forth between us—“isn’t contingent on proximity. It’s based on how much I care for you and how important it is to me to spend my life with you. If you leave, and you probably will and should if you want the job, then we’ll make it work. If you don’t get Sarita and find a job across the country. We’ll make that work too. Woman, I love you. And you love me. That’s all that matters.”
I breathed in deeply and it felt like my first big breath of my whole adult life. Collapsing against him, he wrapped his arms around me and I inhaled him. His body was so warm, and this feeling was so right.
“I love you,” I told him, even though he’d said it for me seconds ago.
His confidence was amazing when you compared it to how insecure I could be. Maybe we were matched head to head in the kitchen, but he had me beat in the relationship department by miles. But that was okay. As long as he was strong enough to stick around, I could heal through this. I could get there. I could find my footing once again.
If for no other reason than to keep him from beating me forever. I mean, I loved him, but that didn’t mean our competition was over.
He kissed the top of my head and said, “You’re going to have to up the sexual favors though or the kitchen is going to hate you when you leave. I mean, fine, I can admit that you belong at Sarita and you’ll kick ass there and be a national success in no time. But my staff is going to murder you when they have to deal with me after you’re gone.”
I laughed at his exaggeration. “I can handle the sexual favors part, but I’m worried about your fragile ego when Sarita starts outperforming Lilou.”
His body stiffened, not liking that idea at all. “I’m not worried, Swift. After all, I just grabbed my first James Beard and I’m pretty sure you don’t even have the EC job yet.”
I pinched his nipple and twisted. That was fair at this point, right?
“You didn’t tell me you got the James Beard!”
“Rising Star Chef of the Year.”
“Holy shit, Wyatt! Congratulations!”
“Uhm hmm. You see? You’ve got a way to go before you catch up.”
I pulled back, so he could see me roll my eyes
. “You’re making it hard to be happy for you.”
He smiled, and I melted into a pile of sticky, happy goo right there on the bed.
“Do you want to go over your menu?” he asked. “When did you say you’re interviewing?”
“Monday.” I thought about his offer. How cool would that be for Wyatt to go over my menu with me? This was one of those reasons that we would make not just a good couple, but a great power couple. But, I couldn’t accept his help. This was something I needed to do totally on my own. I needed to set myself apart from Wyatt and Lilou and sous chef. I needed to show Ezra that I was innovative in my own right and talented without holding the hand of a better chef. I needed to show him I had the guts and grit to take Sarita and turn her into her best version. “And I, uh, I think I got the menu on my own.”
“Oh, yeah? Are you sure?”
I settled back against him and laid my hand over his heart to catch my balance. “Yes, I’m sure. I think he’ll appreciate the menu more if I’m solely in charge.”
“Yeah, okay. I can see that.”
“Thank you though.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Any time.”
Tilting my head back, I caught a close-up version of him. It was beautiful and right and I was so grateful for this man I got to finally call mine. “I love you, Wyatt.”
His lips lingered on mine, kissing me to oblivion. “I love you too, Kaya. I’m looking forward to all the different ways you’re going to drive me wild.”
Assuming that was a challenge, I kissed him this time and didn’t stop until we were sated and exhausted once again. We curled up in each other’s embrace on the bed, surrounded by plates and quiche crumbs and fell asleep. We spent the morning like that and were so enraptured with each other we ended up being late to work for the first time ever.
I was already embarrassed and flustered, but then Wyatt walked into the kitchen and announced to every single one of his staff and my coworkers that we were officially together.
His exact words were, “Kaya and I finally figured our shit out. We’re together now. Deal with it.”
That was approximately the time I burst into humiliated flames and braced myself against lighting the entire kitchen on fire.
But then, everyone cheered for us and forgave us for being two hours late. And I was able to relax in my own skin and this new, wonderful, crazy relationship with my boss.
Dinner service was not my best. And it wasn’t Wyatt’s either. But for the first time since I could remember, neither of us cared about the potential critics or the reputation of the restaurant or even our professional legacy.
Instead, we spent the night stealing glances and secret smiles and dreaming about later—when more sexual favors would be exchanged.
I had Sarita to worry about, and he had his changes at Lilou to implement, but suddenly none of that felt impossible. This great big thing in my life had finally happened and I could relax about my dream job.
At least temporarily—until I had to finalize my tryout menu and cook it for Ezra.
Twenty-One
A bead of sweat rolled down my spine and I contemplated puking. I set the plate down, brushed my hands over my chef coat with trembling hands and then tucked them quickly behind my back.
This afternoon had been the single most terrifying experience of my life. I’d arrived in the Sarita kitchen at nine this morning and started serving Ezra at three. He’d given me sixteen chances in the form of unique dishes to blow his mind.
I hoped to do it in twelve.
It was risky.
After setting the last and final dessert in front of him, I started second guessing everything I’d done and didn’t do. Every tiny, insignificant decision. From where I’d gotten my prosciutto for the fire-roasted Padrón peppers that I’d tossed in sea salt and turmeric, finished with mint, to the firmness of the goat cheese I used for the honey dipped goat cheese balls I lightly fried and served with a mint cream sauce.
But I’d especially second guessed my choice of using only twelve dishes. Three appetizers, four second plates and five thirds. Oh, and then the dessert course, which I didn’t really count since it barely passed as servable.
Ezra eyed my bite-size tres leches cakes and churro fries with caramel crema dipping sauce. I didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but I had done the desserts in the tapas style of the rest of the meal. Little bites that were meant to be shared around the table.
They weren’t the most inventive of desserts ever created, but pastries were not my specialty. I also knew Ezra hired a pastry company to handle the sweet courses throughout the harem, including Sarita. This course was a test to see how well-rounded I was. That was fine. My caramel dipping sauce was spectacular. And my churro fries had turned out perfectly. I had made the cake bites yesterday, so I sincerely hoped they hadn’t dried out yet. But they looked pretty.
I’d had a third dish planned, some puff pastry fritters with a custard drizzle. I was going to cut them in little S’s and wow him with my ability to theme like a boss. But I’d scrapped the idea when I realized they were too similar to the churros. There was no point in ending the meal with a fried-food-fest that could rival the county fair.
Ezra turned to the other two judges with him and I felt like I’d accidentally signed up for a cooking reality show on Bravo.
Killian sat to his right, serious and intimidating. He wouldn’t go easy on me no matter how much he liked me. And he knew all my weaknesses from my years of working under him.
As if he wasn’t bad enough, Arón Delgato sat to his left. Delgato owned three Spanish restaurants in the Charlotte area and a pretty famous flagship out of Raleigh. I’d sat in a lecture he did when I was in culinary school and he’d intimidated me back then. Now my knees trembled, and I had started mentally willing my body to stop sweating.
This was the end, I reminded myself. For better or worse, I’d managed to get through the entire service without a major calamity.
After the first courses of goat cheese balls, Spanish Rioja-glazed chorizo, and chickpeas, and then heirloom tomatoes and spring onion toast with brazed manchego cheese shavings, I had relaxed into doing what I do best.
Other than having to serve the three judges myself and explain each dish, I’d spent most of the day in the kitchen with my head down. It had felt amazing to finally cook in Sarita. I took full advantage of the huge space, even if I didn’t have it all to myself.
Vera had the kitchen staff prepping for the night on one side of the big space while I took up the other half. They pretty much stayed out of my way except to offer encouragement or loud whistles when I’d done something that especially impressed them.
That was probably the best part of the day—working near the staff I was coming to appreciate and respect. Vera had done some whipping into shape with their preparation and skills, and they’d seriously cleaned up the kitchen in her short tenure. But they were also good people. Talented people. I knew that if I had the opportunity to lead them, we could do some incredible things.
“Did you find that you had enough time to prepare for this meal?” Killian asked after he’d sampled both desserts.
I thought back to the last week of frantic prepping. Wyatt had given me some wiggle room at Lilou so I could spend more time at home perfecting the dishes I wanted to make. But I hadn’t left him totally high and dry. The current state of my apartment verged on catastrophic. And laundry would need to be done ASAP. I was presently wearing my last pair of clean underwear.
Not that Wyatt would have complained if I suddenly started going without.
“Of course,” I told him.
His lips twitched. He knew I was lying, but he thankfully didn’t call me on it. “Where did you get the idea for the caramel crema? I enjoyed the way you tweaked a more classic dessert.”
I shrugged and attempted a wobbly smile, admitting the truth this time. “My head. It’s a dish I personally enjoy. I wanted to bring in the elements of all of my favorite th
ings and showcase my personality in them.”
“You’ve done that,” Delgato murmured. It was impossible to tell if he was complimenting or insulting me. “And the crispy squid? Actually, just walk us through the second course.”
My brain blanked on what I’d even served for the second course. It didn’t feel possible to have done all of this in one day. And yet, somehow, I’d created the best meal of my entire life.
There were things I would have done differently now that I was on this side of the mayhem. But I’d given it everything I had and was super proud of what I’d accomplished.
“I wanted something light and edgy, but also balanced. There was a lot of pressure to impress you with just this one meal.” I laughed lightly, and they smiled at my honesty. “I also wanted to bring in some other cultural flavor profiles. I know this is a traditionally Spanish restaurant, but one of my favorite things about cooking is bringing different tastes together and making them work to feature the best of everything. Crispy squid is one of my favorite dishes. I served it with the harissa aioli to cut the richness of it and then squeezed some lemon over the top for that acidity that I feel all fried seafood needs. Another favorite flavor profile of mine is artichokes and bacon.” I grinned again. “Okay, I’m a big fan of bacon in general. But the crumbled smoked bacon and gorgonzola over grilled artichoke hearts is a particularly heavenly combination. Patatas bravas seemed like an obvious choice. But I julienned fingerling potatoes, so they would present nicely with the roasted serranos. The smoked paprika aioli and fried egg over the top was an idea inspired by Wyatt’s asparagus on the Lilou menu. Seafood is such an obvious choice for tapas, but I wanted to stretch some of the concepts already on the menu. That’s where I came up with the cold PEI mussels. So, I cooked them first in red wine and chopped tomatoes, onions and pineapple. I bulked up the broth while they simmered and then quick-cooled all of it. I finished the dish with fresh coriander.”
“Those were my least favorite,” Arón commented.
I nodded, accepting the criticism without defending my dish. I knew I was taking a risk with the pineapple and the temperature. But I hadn’t wanted to play it safe or predictable.
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 89
