I didn’t quite have such lofty goals.
Yes, I wanted to be good at what I did. But mostly I just loved to cook. I loved food. I loved creating. I loved turning something so simple into an artform. I loved getting lost in the focus it took. When I cooked, it was just me and the food. Nothing else mattered. Not who I was. Or where I came from. Or how much money I had in my bank accounts. All that mattered was that I had the ability to turn seemingly random ingredients into a beautiful, cherished experience for someone else.
I didn’t have lofty ambitions like the rest of my friends. I wasn’t even competitive. I just wanted purpose and redemption and the gift of toiling at something I so wholly loved.
My headache pulsed back to life at my temples.
This wasn’t going to end well.
By the time I got to Lilou four hours later for prep, I was a weepy, hysterical mess. I sniffled as I put my black chef jacket on for the last time and stepped into the already crowded kitchen.
The staff that was there turned around and started clapping for me. Their expressions were proud and sappy and so encouraging. They stood there cheering me on as I if I had won some great championship.
I lost it. Tears poured down my face and I hid behind my hands, embarrassed by my emotion.
“She’s sad to leave,” Wyatt announced to my peers, “because she knows the White Witch can never compete with us.”
He was partially right, but I couldn’t let him know that. Today I was his second in command. Tomorrow, we would be big competition.
Wiping my tears away with the back of my hands, I released a shaky laugh. “I’m crying for you,” I told him. “You’re never going to find someone dumb enough to replace me.”
He scowled at the laughter that followed. “It’s not funny,” he growled at them. “True, but not funny.”
“Poor Wyatt,” I empathized. “His sous chefs keep running away.”
A glint appeared in his dark eyes and he surveyed the kitchen. “They run away to run their own kitchens. Seems like this position is a pretty great stepping stone for those of you serious about your careers.”
His words were a crafty ploy disguised as a challenge. He might murder the next sous chef to abandon him.
Okay, maybe not murder, but at least kidnap and force to continue working for him under duress.
The kitchen avoided looking directly at him. I saw Benny back away into the pantry. Hiding my smile, I said, “Everybody don’t volunteer at once.”
He glared at me. “A competition then.”
Why was he looking at me?
“Dillon’s taking lead tonight.”
“Wait, what?”
“She needs some practice for her fancy new job and we’re going to give it to her. And at the end of the night, she’s going to pick one of you to step up.”
“Wyatt, you’re not serious.”
He winked at me. “That person will be sous. Final answer. Unless of course I don’t like her pick, then she’ll choose someone else.”
I punched him in the bicep. “Are you crazy?”
He rubbed his arm and looked totally affronted. I rolled my eyes because I didn’t realize he’d been hiding rocks for muscles under his jacket. My hand hurt way more than his arm.
“You need practice, Dillon. I’m happy to give it to you.”
“Did Ezra put you up to this?”
He laughed maniacally. “I just thought it up. Pretty great, huh?”
Butterflies rioted in my gut. Sure, he’d put me in charge before, but not for the entire night. I was relatively new to the position. Kaya had only quit a few months ago.
I couldn’t do this.
Oh, shit, I had to do this! On a nightly basis.
Maybe if I puked in here, they would have to shut down for the night and I could get out of Wyatt’s trial by fire.
He leaned in, probably noticing the panic and greenish hue of my skin. “You can do this, Dillon. You got the chops. Stop doubting yourself.”
“Nepotism,” I hissed at him. “Ezra is a nepotist. That’s the only reason he asked me to take over Bianca. He’s crazy with nepotism.”
His eyes narrowed. “He saw real, raw talent in you and was smart enough to snatch it up. Don’t doubt yourself, Chef. Tonight, is just like any other night. Be precise. Be diligent. Be a fucking badass. You have dinner service to prepare for.”
I swallowed around the fist-sized lump in my throat and let his words of encouragement sink into my skin. He was right—I was doubting myself. Big time. But now wasn’t the time for that. I needed to put on my big girl panties and step into the role I had already accepted.
Besides, tonight would be like learning to ride a bike with training wheels on. Wyatt would be here to save my ass should anything go awry. And I already knew this menu. I could cook most of these dishes blindfolded.
“Okay,” I whispered. “But you’re going to have to fill in for me.”
He wrinkled his nose. “All right.” Glancing over his shoulder, he added. “I should probably go stop Benny from running away.” He looked back at me, dropping his voice so no one else could hear him although they were all watching us. “You know he’s the first choice, yeah?”
I suppressed a smile and nodded. Poor, poor Benny. There weren’t enough head chef positions in the world to make working for Wyatt worth it.
Oh, god. Was I going to be that impossible too? Was I going to walk into Bianca and turn into a total egomaniac who thought I ruled the world with my spatula in one hand and my toque crown atop my head?
I guess we’d find out tonight.
Four
Twelve hours later, the rush of a successful night at the helm of Lilou had me feeling like the queen of the world. I got how easy it was to let the power go to your head. I felt the buzz of victory in my blood and the thrum of perfection in my chest.
I hadn’t just run service well, I’d nailed it.
Okay, fine, it helped that Wyatt was there to cook things perfectly before they even got to me. In fact, the entire kitchen had been especially on top of things tonight. I liked to believe they were cooking their asses off for my last night.
But then I realized they cooked to perfection every night. This was the well-oiled machine amazing chefs had molded them into. First Killian, and then Wyatt.
They were five-star ninjas. Service went smoothly. There weren’t mistakes. There weren’t oopsies. There weren’t even slightly overdone pieces of meat. There was only flawless execution.
It gave me hope for Bianca. Could I do this in my own kitchen? Could we run this effortlessly? Could we be this efficient? This faultless?
Of course we could.
It wasn’t even that hard.
Er, it hadn’t been tonight.
I supposed Sunday at Bianca would be the real test. This time when my stomach flipped though, it was with anticipation, not dread. Tonight, had been, honest to God, fun—one of the most thrilling nights of my life. And the idea of living like this for the rest of my life filled me with bubbly excitement.
The rest of the staff had slowly filtered out. They’d hugged me, said goodbye, and made me promise to come back and visit as they left.
Wyatt walked into the kitchen from the dining room, carrying three fluted glasses and another bottle of ridiculously expensive champagne. His raised eyebrow was full of mischief.
“Is that for moi?”
He tilted his head toward Benny. “And my new sous chef.”
Benny the Brick, as I liked to call him, was built like a linebacker. Big, bulky muscles for days. His shaved head and tough demeanor gave him the “I used to work for the mob” look that intimidated most everyone at first. Until you got to know him and realized he was a big old softy.
And kind of lazy.
He loved cooking, but he didn’t want the responsibility of sous chef. The man ran from anything that required more than his hourly-employee shifts. He didn’t want a salary that would force him to work more hours than he was technica
lly getting paid for—even if it also came with a gigantic raise.
He also didn’t like to be the bad guy. He was too worried about everyone liking him to enjoy the idea of being upper management.
Too bad for him he was fantastic at his job. With Kaya gone and me leaving, there was no way Wyatt was going to let him get away with slumming it any longer.
It was sous chef or no chef.
“I blame you for this,” he said to me as he made his way over from one of the cooktops. “This is all your fault.”
Grinning at him, I accepted the full glass of champagne from Wyatt and held it up in the air. “You’re welcome.”
He grumbled something profane under his breath while Wyatt passed him his drink.
“To chefs that can cook like fucking gods,” Wyatt toasted.
My smile stretched as we clinked glasses and tasted greatness from a bottle. “God, that’s good.”
Benny finally loosed a smile too. “That is pretty damn incredible.”
Wyatt shrugged. “I found it in Ezra’s office.” At our stunned expressions, he quickly added, “Don’t tell him.”
“He was probably saving that for his wedding night or something.”
Wyatt’s cheeks turned a pinkish hue. “I hadn’t thought about that.” He took another long drink and then poured more into his glass. “Shit.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I assured him.
“Me too,” Benny agreed. “But mainly because I don’t want to die. I like breathing.”
I leaned forward, unable to wipe the goofy grin off my face. “Especially now that you have your fancy new job.”
He pursed his lips together and shook his head. “On second thought…”
“Don’t be a weenie,” I laughed. “It’s time to step up and take the bull by the horns.” I tilted my head toward my former boss and said, “Wyatt being the bull in this scenario.”
The big, muscly marshmallow looked at Wyatt and grimaced. “I’m not a weenie.”
“She’s right,” Wyatt agreed. “You’re a weenie.”
“I’m not. I just don’t want to work for you.”
Wyatt gave him a quizzical look. “You already work for me.”
“Yeah, but not like that,” Benny insisted. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship, bro.”
Wyatt’s confused look did not go away and I couldn’t help but laugh. This was a bromance thing? Who would have guessed?
“He can be an asshole,” I shared with Benny. “The important thing to remember is that he doesn’t really mean what he says when he’s in the kitchen. Just think of him as being temporarily possessed and you’ll be able to forgive him in the morning.”
Wyatt’s insulted expression made me want to laugh again so I took another drink of champagne. I felt tipsy, despite having only had a few sips of alcohol. I realized it was the kitchen high. And it was amazing. It was why I went to culinary school. Why I sacrificed a life as a socialite—even though I had plenty of money to live on—to work my ass off in a blazing hot kitchen night after night. It was the reason I had taken Ezra’s offer even though I knew I wasn’t ready for this job.
I was chasing and would forever be chasing this feeling.
“I’ll try to remember that,” Benny murmured. “This isn’t Wyatt. This is Evil Wyatt. Wyatt isn’t a total asshole. Evil Wyatt is a total asshole.”
“There you go,” I encouraged. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”
“You guys are the assholes,” Wyatt grumbled.
Benny and I shared a conspiratorial smile and clinked glasses again. “This has been a ride,” I told them, hopping up on one of the counters and leaning back on my free hand. “I’ll miss this place.”
“And we’ll miss you,” Wyatt said sincerely. “Bianca’s a lucky bitch.”
I smiled, knowing the champagne and lack of eating dinner during my crazy, busy shift was going to my head. “Maybe she is.”
Wyatt’s phone chirped and he set his glass down to pull it from his pocket. “It’s my woman,” he told us, apparently channeling his inner caveman. Putting the phone to his ear, he said, “Hey babe, just finishing up?”
I looked up at the clock to see that it was after midnight. Sarita, where Kaya ran the kitchen, was open later than Lilou, so she would still have to clean up and shut down. I knew Wyatt stopped by after we were finished so he could help her get her kitchen in order and they drove home together.
A strange pain stabbed inside my chest. I took another sip of champagne hoping it would go away.
Loneliness.
That was the name of it. A feeling I was altogether familiar with, and one that had been showing up more often than usual lately.
I blamed all the love happening around me. It was like Cupid was rampaging through Durham intent on making everyone I knew fall in love.
Meanwhile, I was still over here with a full-on candle vigil for the death of any possibility of love in my life. Um, no thanks! I’m good. And single. And good with being single.
Liar, liar, my pained heart crooned.
It had been fine when Killian fell in love with Vera. I mean, had there ever been a more perfect couple on the planet? And love had totally changed Killian, making him a way more tolerable human.
And then there was Ezra. Obviously, I had been beyond thrilled for my brother to have found a woman that wasn’t the total worst. After his long list of crazy exes, I was so completely happy for him. And Molly was just the best. I couldn’t have asked for a better sister-in-law.
But honestly, who would have guessed that Ezra would have found true love before me?
Not me.
Or him.
Or anybody that knew us.
Ezra had been the one to make all the obvious dating mistakes. I had been the one lucky enough to have only needed to make one mistake. If lucky meant tragically unlucky.
Spotting losers was easy, when I said no to everyone.
Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. I sometimes went on first dates. Er, or enough first dates that people assumed I was a dating machine.
But, I had a strict catch and release policy, promising myself that as soon as I found a guy worth keeping around, I wouldn’t let him go. I would recognize a good thing when I found it.
But lately, I’d been questioning my ability to recognize even half-decent men.
Either my standards were significantly lowering or my options were drying up.
I mean, even my mom had found true love.
And now Wyatt and Kaya? It was too much.
I was officially the third wheel. That didn’t mean I would stop tossing back the fish the second I’d gotten a free meal and a couple of drinks out of them.
Watching Wyatt talk to my best friend with a big, stupid grin on his face killed whatever good mood the night had put me in. Bringing the expensive champagne to my lips, I tipped my head back and finished the glass.
“I think I’m going to get going.” I faked a yawn until it turned into a real one. “I’m beat.”
Benny was staring into his champagne glass like it was a crystal ball with hidden answers to all his life questions. “Oh, yeah? I guess this is goodbye then.”
His sarcastic comment pulled a smile from me. “Don’t be so fatalistic, Benjamin. We’ll see each other again.”
He made a face that made me realize how little we would see each other from now on. Another pang of sorrow punched through me.
“Oh, hey.” He snapped his fingers at me. “A buddy of mine saw a picture of us from the other week, when we went out for your birthday. He asked if you were single and if he could get your number.”
My sad feelings were immediately replaced with a confusing mix of piqued curiosity and crippling dread. “Uh… what’s he like?”
“My friend?”
“The guy that wants my number. Is he awful?”
He gave me a look that said he didn’t have awful friends. But what did he know anyway? Guys were nose-blind to their buddies. “He�
�s good people, Dillon. I think you’d like him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Matt.” When it was clear I was waiting for more, he added. “Matt Brennan.”
I filed away the information so I could stalk him online later. “What does Matt Brennan do for a living?”
“He’s a pastry chef. I’ve known him since school. He works at Fifi’s.”
I pursed my lips together. It wasn’t that I disliked pastry chefs as a whole… I just didn’t like that they thought we did the same thing. They worked in quiet kitchens under zero pressure. At least, compared to our kind of pressure. Sure, they had standards of perfection too. But it was not the same.
Still, Matt Brennan was a good name. And I had just been mourning my single status seconds ago.
Plus, it had been a long time since I’d been on a date. And I preferred everything to be fine. And normal. And for people to see that I was making an effort at the whole dating thing.
Even if I wasn’t.
“Is he cocky?”
He rolled his eyes at my question. “He’s cool, Baptiste. It’s just a text. You don’t have to answer it.”
“What I’m hearing is that you don’t want to let him down.”
He made a face at getting called out. “He thought you were hot! Take the compliment.”
Was it a compliment? Or was Matt Brennan just desperate to find a girl outside of his usual stock pond? Stalking your friend’s Facebook account for pictures of women you hadn’t met before felt desperate to me. And weird. Still, I heard myself say, “Okay, fine. You can give him my number.”
He made a gleeful sound. “Aw, you’re going to make him so happy. You can thank me for the love connection later.”
I set the champagne glass down, deciding this was Wyatt and Benny’s kitchen now, they could deal with the dirty dishes. Without giving a formal goodbye to my former coworker and boss, I made my way toward the back exit, waving at Benny and Wyatt as I went.
For all my warm fuzzies for this kitchen, I found myself leaving it way faster than I had planned. I thought I would savor the walk out, take in the gleaming glory one more time. By the time I stepped into the night air, I was shocked that it was over—that my time at Lilou had come to a close.
The Something about Her: Opposites Attract book four Page 4
