That didn’t mean he couldn’t respect me, listen to me, and get behind me. At least until I proved myself one way or the other.
“Fair enough,” I told him. “Still want your loyalty.”
His head cocked to the side as he regarded me openly. “All right. You can have my loyalty. Let’s see what you do with it.”
He wasn’t going to make this easy on me.
Strangely, I was okay with that. I respected his careful, honest approach to our working relationship. I appreciated that he was upfront with me without being disrespectful or downright insolent. And I appreciated that he did a good job when I asked, even before he trusted me.
“Right now, I’m going to leave and let you be in charge.” I smiled, hoping he would feel some levity.
His lips cracked in a barely-there smile. “Sounds good.”
Jumping off the counter, I brushed a hand over my butt just in case an onion paper had decided to hitch a ride. “Thanks, Blaze. I appreciate you taking over so I can go to this wedding.”
His smile was softer, friendlier. “Of course.” Before I could walk away though, he added, “It was a good decision to fire Ashlynn. She’d been unhappy here for a long time. She might even thank you for it one day.”
A surprised laugh bubbled out of me. “Highly unlikely.”
He lifted a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Okay, you’re probably right. Still a good decision.”
“Thanks, Blaze.”
“See you later, Chef.”
I stopped a few others on my way out the door, feeling entirely too elated over hearing everyone call me Chef. By the time I reached my car, I was smiling like a loon and had the heady feeling I was leaving something that was actually mine.
Could I trust Blaze? Not yet. But I didn’t distrust him either. Which was probably exactly how he felt about me. At least we were on the same page.
Leading Bianca felt impossible at this point. Changing the menu felt like the biggest mountain to climb. Breathing life back into her and restoring her to her former glory was daunting to say the least. But it felt easier with a staff by my side that would stay loyal to me—stand up for me and work their hardest alongside me.
Only time would tell if I’d be able to manage all this.
In the meantime? I had a bridal brunch to get to.
* * *
I was thirty minutes late by the time I got to the sweet little bistro for the bridal brunch. Molly and Kaya were already sipping mimosas and Vera had her water with cucumber in hand, a paper straw dangling from the corner of her mouth.
They’d grabbed a table outside on the patio, the sunshine warm and inviting. “Y’all look like a magazine ad,” I told them as I took in their big shades and sun hats. Kaya had a cute bandana wrapped around her shorter style, making her look like a pinup girl from the fifties.
They struck poses as I slid through the wrought-iron gate to join them.
“Spill it,” Vera demanded before I could sit down.
I blinked at my friends, hoping she wanted other information I could possibly have. Like Ezra’s childhood secrets. Or my social security number.
“What’s going on with my brother?”
Okay, so not my social security number then. “What do you mean?” Pretending to have no idea what she was talking about would work, right? Sure. We’ll go with that.
She leaned forward, slamming her water on the table. “Um, I mean that you were all over each other last night. And that he was looking at you with gaga eyes. I mean that you laughed at all his lame jokes. And when we came back from dancing, you were practically sitting in his lap.”
“Oh, that.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Yes, that.”
“Vere, babe,” I said in my most soothing voice, “let’s not bother talking about me today. This weekend is all about you.”
Kaya snorted. “That’s an interesting tactic.”
“Hey!” I glared at her. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Vera’s head snapped toward her. “Don’t back out now. We agreed this needed to be a three-pronged attack.”
“You’re attacking me?”
Kaya held up her hands in surrender. “Nobody’s attacking anyone! Also, this weekend is all about Vera. And right now, she wants to know what’s going on with you and her brother. I vote that you give her what she wants before she turns into bridezilla and bites your head off.”
“If only we’d brought the sash,” Molly added.
“Way to navigate those tricky waters,” I told Kaya, my words dripping with sarcasm. “You should go into politics with that kind of dodge and dive.”
Kaya smiled widely. “I know, right?”
Vera’s attention turned back to me. “Kaya’s on to something. I will bite your head off if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
“Nothing’s going on,” I told them quickly. At their annoyed looks, I added, “Seriously, nothing. We’re just friends.” I jumped forward in my seat, holding up a hand. “No, not even that! We’re getting to know each other. We’re becoming friends. And who can blame us when we’re always thrust into these major couple situations and we’re the only two people in the room not making out in the corner.”
“Don’t turn this around on us,” Molly warned. “If anyone was making out in the corner last night, it was you and Vann.”
“We’ve never made out,” I said patiently. At Vera’s pursed lips and wide eyes, I quickly added, “We’ve never even kissed. Seriously, we’re friends. That’s all.”
Vera slumped in her seat. “Probably for the best. He’s not the nicest guy when it comes to girls. I haven’t even met one of his dates before. I don’t think he’s into the whole commitment thing.”
I resented her implication that I needed commitment. “Who said I am? Just because we might have flirted last night, after copious amounts of carbs and cocktails, doesn’t mean I’m ready to marry him. Keep your wedding cooties to yourself, Vere. He’s funny. I like talking to him. That’s it.”
“He’s not funny,” she argued. “He’s grumpy and responsible and the cheapest person you will ever meet.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
The three of them leaned toward me, eyeing me shrewdly.
“You’re like complete opposites,” Kaya pointed out. “You’re never grumpy and you’re never responsible and you’re the opposite of cheap.”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the truth in her words. “See? It would never work. Good thing there isn’t anything going on between us! Can we move on now?”
“I suppose,” Vera sighed. “But it would make me happy to see him settled down with someone I love.”
“Maybe you could set him up with Jo,” I suggested. “She’s grumpy and responsible and cheap.”
Kaya snorted. “Cheap as hell.”
“Good grief, they’re perfect for each other,” Vera groaned.
We were all able to laugh about Vann after that and finally move on. We spent the rest of brunch drinking more cocktails and talking about details of the remaining weekend and all the exciting things Vera had going on in her life right now.
Sure, there was also a lot of stress attached to all the major life events converging at the same time—a wedding, a restaurant opening and a baby in five months. But they were the very best things she could have ever hoped for.
And I was so beyond happy for her and Killian. Life wasn’t going to be easy going forward, but dang, it was going to be beautiful.
That pang lanced across my chest again, reminding me that some day I wanted this too. Not any day soon, I tried to maintain, but my old argument fell limp inside my head.
Who wouldn’t want this? Vera made it look wonderful.
And so did Molly.
And so did Kaya.
When I was surrounded by all this love, it was hard not to notice it was missing from my own life.
But it was. It so was.
After brunch, we headed over to Salt. The place was a madh
ouse. There were people everywhere. Florists setting up for the wedding tomorrow. Last minute construction guys making sure everything was in working order. An electrician. A couple of plumbers. Landscapers out front and around the building.
In one corner of the restaurant, Ezra’s maître d’ was instructing a gaggle of waiters. And in the other corner, Vera’s wedding planner and business manager were in the throes of a knockdown, drag out fight, each wielding a clipboard like it was a sword.
“This place is a circus,” Molly noted as we sidestepped a painter speckled with white paint and wearing goggles, a mask hanging around his neck.
“Killian’s been coordinating the final stages. I told him that it doesn’t have to be perfect, but he’s insistent that we’re in excellent working order by tomorrow.” She glanced back at us as she led us through the dining room and bared her teeth. “As long as we don’t have to use port-a-potties I’ll be happy.”
“Working on that now, ma’am,” a man in overalls called out as we walked by.
Vera stopped to talk to him, but the rest of us forged on, arms full of produce from Jo’s and protein from Vera’s favorite butcher. The men had been in charge of finding everything else on the extensive list.
Molly pushed through the kitchen door, then held it for Kaya and me. We were the first ones here and the competitive part of my soul rejoiced.
“We won!” I cheered.
“What did we win?” Molly asked, sounding totally confused.
Kaya got me. “We beat the boys.”
Molly set her bags down on one of the gleaming countertops. “Was it a race?”
Kaya and I mumbled noncommittal maybes while we unpacked our sacks laden with the best produce money could buy. Wyatt and Killian tumbled in a few minutes later.
“Damn,” Wyatt groaned.
Killian set paper sacks next to Molly’s. “I told you we shouldn’t have stopped for those burritos.”
“Were we racing?” Molly clarified more sternly.
Poor, poor Molly. She wasn’t a chef, so she didn’t get it. Even though she technically worked in the restaurant business as part of Ezra’s EFB Enterprises, she was the only person in her department. She didn’t have anyone to prove herself to or beat.
The rest of us were pretty much in a life long race to see who was better than everyone else. Sure, we were all good friends and loved each other fiercely. We also wanted to win. We would always want to win.
It was who we were.
Ezra pushed through the doorway a minute later, Vann and Vera following close behind.
“I told you those burritos were a mistake,” Ezra said to Killian.
“Not you too,” Molly murmured, staring at her fiancé in horror.
My brother looked at his bride to be with the most clueless expression I’d ever seen. “What?”
She shook her head at him.
We had picked stations naturally. Killian and Vera next to each other, with Ezra close to Killian. Wyatt and Kaya close together, with me not far off. Molly and Vann stood in the middle of the room, not having a clue what to do with all this food.
“I didn’t think you were coming till later,” Vera said to Vann, her gaze darting to me for a split second.
He shrugged and hopped up onto one of the counters, pushing the stack of one hundred quail eggs to the side. “I didn’t have anything else to do. Thought I’d see if you needed help.”
“But you don’t know how to cook,” Vera reminded him.
He shrugged again, but never looked at me. I wondered why he was here too. But then again, Molly was hanging out all day and she couldn’t cook worth a damn.
Actually, it was worse than that. She was a total disaster in the kitchen. We were playing it risky just by letting her in the building.
“I can chop or whatever,” Vann said, defending himself. “Or time things.” He rubbed a hand along his smooth jaw and added. “I’m also adequate at pouring liquid into measuring cups.”
“Oh, I can do that too!” Molly added. “I can also chop. And time things.”
“We have ourselves a couple of sous chefs, y’all.” Vann finally looked at me, his gray eyes sparking with laughter and familiarity and something warm. God, he was especially good looking today in only a gray t-shirt and dark red shorts.
He saluted me. “We’re here to serve.”
Without looking away, I announced, “Then I call Vann.”
“Wait just a second,” Killian crowed from the other end of the kitchen. “Shouldn’t Vera get first pick? It’s her wedding day.”
Busted. “Oh, it’s just that… I thought since Molly is the maid of honor and all… you know…”
“Vann is my brother,” Vera argued. “I should probably stick with family on this one.”
“Hey!” Molly planted her hands on her hips. “That sounds like an insult.”
Vera and I shared a guilty look.
Vann ticked his chin toward me. “It’s okay, Vere, you don’t have to spare my feelings. I know you want to be with Molly.”
Vera’s jaw unhinged, not expecting her brother to throw her under the bus. “Oh, uh, that’s sweet of you. Er, thanks.”
Molly shook her head. “I still feel no love here, people!”
Kaya tried to hide her snicker in Wyatt’s shoulder, while the rest of us avoided Molly’s gaze completely.
“You can help me,” Ezra told her, his voice holding all the affection he felt for her. “I want you on my team.”
Molly walked toward him, her shoulders still slumped. “Aren’t you supposed to tell them how much better I’ve gotten? Last week I made that toast. Remember? I didn’t even burn it.”
“You didn’t,” Ezra agreed patiently. “You didn’t even burn the toast.”
That led the rest of us to dissolve into fits of laughter. Shortly after, Killian broke up the shenanigans and we got to work.
Even though this was a totally informal afternoon of cooking together, I still drank in every second of Killian’s leadership and how he led so effortlessly. I needed these tools in my pocket. I needed to be able to command a kitchen—any kitchen—flawlessly.
I needed to inspire greatness just by walking in the room.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Vann admitted to me after I’d pulled our ingredients over to our station.
I turned my head to look at him, drinking in his casual attire all over again. There was chemistry between us today, a gentle pop and sizzle that sparked all around us. “What’s that?”
He leaned even closer, our cheeks briefly brushing as he moved toward my ear. “My kitchen experience basically involves making coffee and pouring a bowl of cereal. You might have been better off with Molly.”
It was then, at that moment, in that sweet, secret smile and those sizzling gray eyes, that I realized I had a crush on Vann Delane.
An actual crush.
What was I fourteen?
Maybe. Because all I wanted to do was pull Kaya into the pantry and tell her all about it. I felt giddy and giggly just thinking about him. And standing this close was pure torture.
Okay, I wasn’t fourteen. I didn’t have the imagination I do now when I was fourteen.
When I had a crush back then, it stopped there. Maybe I pictured handholding. Maybe a kiss. Today, with Vann standing so close and smelling so good, all I could picture was pushing him down on the counter top and throwing my body on top of his. Or jumping him in the walk-in freezer and heating things up… if you know what I mean.
Oh, brother… now I was punning.
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward and tugged on his sleeve, my fingers brushing over his bicep. “Don’t try to talk me out of this now. Hell or high water, we’re in this together.”
His gray eyes sparked with something electric, like flashes of lightning before a downpour. “All right then, Baptiste. Let’s show ‘em what we got.”
Twelve
Sixteen hours later, I woke up with a start—this was not my bed.
I opened my eyes. This was not my apartment. It took me a few groggy moments to remember where I was and what had happened.
A warm arm was wrapped around my waist, the body attached to it puffing soft snores into my tangled hair.
I carefully, quietly, gently slapped a hand over my eyes as I shame spiraled into an eternal abyss of broken memories.
It had started with the appetizers. Vann and I were charged with preparing egg dishes for thirty. That meant making the wasabi scotch eggs and burrata, which was this delicious peasant bread served with a yolky egg and mashed potato spread, accompanied by homemade apple butter.
There had also been alcohol involved.
Lots of alcohol.
A a flirty afternoon of teaching Vann basics in the kitchen was followed by a swoon-worthy practice ceremony where Vann got choked up when his sister walked down the aisle for the first time. And then a night of eating amazing food including, but not limited to our appetizers, plus popcorn chicken served on mini waffles while Vera claimed some kind of redemption I didn’t understand, also oysters on the half shell with a to-die-for green chimichurri sauce. The main course was surf and turf. Scallops with sweet potato and roasted beets; short ribs over the creamiest polenta, fried octopus; shrimp and curried grits with shaved coconut and crushed pistachios; and pork belly sliders with pickled red onions and fried kale. All of it accompanied by crispy brussels sprouts, charred broccoli, and butternut squash hummus.
And don’t get me started on dessert. Individual pots of chocolate pot de crème, apple pie bread pudding, and my favorite thing on the planet right now, affogato—rich, hot espresso poured over creamy caramel ice cream.
It was delicious. And filling. And I probably gained thirty-ish pounds. I drowned that horrible thought by drinking. Don’t ask questions, it made sense at the time.
I drank a lot. Champagne, gin fizzes, Old Fashioneds, and I think at some point there were tequila shots. Probably Wyatt’s doing.
And now I was wrapped naked in a man’s arms, barely remembering how I got here.
Opposites Attract: The complete box set Page 105
