“Damn, that sounds almost like reverse-sexism.”
His gaze dropped to my lips again. “This is serious, Dillon. You can fake a bad text at any point during the date. It’s my chivalrous duty to stick it out till the end of the night and pick up the tab. No matter how bad the night is going, I can’t exactly run off in the middle of dinner and leave her with the check.”
He had a point. “I’ve never thought about it like that before. Maybe I shouldn’t be so quick to abandon coffee just because my date insults me and basically tells me I’m a horrible person.”
This time his smile was accompanied by a deep laugh. My body came alive at the sound, tingles rushing through me, heat flooding my core. I wanted more and more and more of that sound and that amused look on his face.
And the best part? He agreed with me. “On second thought, he deserved to get stuck with the check.”
I slapped my hand to my forehead and groaned. “Actually, I paid for my coffee that morning. He was running late and I was impatient for caffeine.”
“That guy was the worst.”
“You’re saying you wouldn’t have made me pay for my coffee?”
“Or made you wait,” he added.
Just when I’d decided to kiss him—because honestly, could he be any more adorable?—our friends decided to ruin my entire life by returning to the table. Their laughter and the scraping of chairs had us jumping apart like we’d been caught in something too tawdry for public.
Glancing at Vera nervously, I was thankful to see she was draped over Killian, engaged in a private conversation. Ezra hadn’t seemed to notice either. Or if he had, he didn’t realize what he’d noticed. My poor, oblivious big brother.
I had just started to breathe easier when I caught Kaya’s shrewd eye. She raised her eyebrows when our gazes clashed, tipping her head toward Vann.
I waved her away and grabbed for my limoncello glass.
She wasn’t deterred. “What did we miss?” she asked loudly.
“Oh nothing,” I laughed loudly—too loudly. “Vann and I were just swapping bad date stories.”
Vera laughed and leaned forward, “He has plenty!”
“So does Dillon,” Ezra added.
Kaya’s eyes narrowed with a wicked challenge. “Why don’t you share your most recent one.”
She meant the one Vann and I were just talking about. She was being a brat. And nosey. And pushy! I kicked her under the table and said, “How about a toast instead?” I raised my glass to Killian and Vera. “To the happy couple. May every day be a reminder of why you fell in love.”
“Aww!” Vera swooned, leaning her head on Killian’s shoulder. He handed over his glass so she could have a sip of his limoncello, kissing her on the head in the sweetest way and basically making all my insides go gooey for them and love and things I was just realizing I might want after all.
I struggled to swallow my own drink, finding it difficult with the giant lump that had taken up residence there. God, why was it so hard to watch happy, lovesick people? They messed with my head in the worst way. I didn’t even want a relationship. Or a permanent significant other. Or anything but to figure out how to run Bianca and not totally drown in all the responsibilities in my life I was wholly unqualified for.
Warm fingers touched my hand that was wrapped around the liqueur glass. Vann gently, slowly nudged my grip away from the liqueur. “May I?” he asked softly so the rest of the table didn’t hear him. “That seemed like a toast I should participate in.”
I let the glass go, turning my head so I could watch him take a drink. Just as the glass touched his lips, I leaned forward and murmured in his ear, “I know you love it, but remember… small sips.”
It was more than half gone when he returned it to me. He leaned closer, his lips brushing my temple, his breath moving my hair around. “I have a feeling you’re going to sell me on persnickety before this is over.”
I shivered at the sound of his deep voice, at the feel of his lips against my skin, at this surprising feeling that something was happening between us. But what was that something?
Other than a terrible idea…
Eleven
I hurried into Bianca’s kitchen, knowing it was going to set me back by a half hour, but unable to help myself. I couldn’t just let her go unchecked for an entire weekend. That was crazy.
And I wasn’t crazy.
Most days, I wasn’t crazy.
Even though I felt like it this morning. After a night of no-debauchery, but plenty of drinking, I woke up two hours late! I didn’t even remember hearing my alarm go off. Or hitting the snooze button. Or turning it off completely.
On any other day I’d woken up late, I could have skipped the shower, grabbed the dry shampoo and called it good. But, today was rehearsal dinner day. That’s right. Nearly the entire day was designated to Vera and Killian and their wedding festivities.
We had a bridal luncheon planned in approximately fifteen minutes, then we were joining the men again at Salt, Vera and Killian’s restaurant, where we were going to be making appetizers, desserts and some of the special items for tomorrow. Vera had wanted her big day to coincide with Salt’s big day—which meant wedding prep would be their kitchen’s inaugural firing up of all engines.
Luckily for the happy couple, they had so many handy friends who could help them semi-cater their own wedding.
Benny and a team of misfits they’d gathered from around the city were doing the heavy cooking for tomorrow’s reception, but the future Mr. and Mrs. Quinn couldn’t help but put their own culinary spin on their union.
It was adorable and a sweet gift for their guests. And I was looking forward to an afternoon of fun, cooking with the people I loved.
Then this evening, we would practice the walk through of the ceremony—held at the same restaurant. Concluding the night with more cooking as we prepared the supper for the rest of the wedding party, family, and the officiating pastor.
Just like last night, I had been looking forward to this day for a long time. I adored all the special touches the bride and groom had woven throughout their weekend. And I couldn’t wait for the festivities today to start.
But first, I needed to sort my shit out. Part of me wished Ezra had waited with the whole forcing me into my dream job thing until after this weekend. That way I could have focused completely on Vera and the celebration without the stress and dread of knowing things could be totally blowing up at Bianca in my absence.
Although, after firing Ashlynn and struggling through the last couple weeks, barely surviving dinner service every night, I got it.
Ezra couldn’t have waited.
Which only made me more nervous for how Blaze and the gang were holding up.
I was extremely happy to see the kitchen bustling with life and that prep work was in full swing when I stepped inside. At least they’d kept to my earlier schedule and were learning to be more meticulous about cleaning, maintaining, and prepping. Part of me had feared opening the door and finding the entire place empty.
Blaze jerked his chin in acknowledgment, his hands busy julienning onions. “Chef, I thought you had the weekend off.”
“Just wanted to check on y’all.” I walked over to where he was working, the prominent position in the kitchen. Did Blaze want this job too? Was he waiting for me to fail hard enough so he could swoop in and take it?
I didn’t really know anything about him—only that he’d handled the transition better then his superior sous chef. But that didn’t mean he had kinder feelings for me. It just meant he was better at playing this game… biding his time.
Picking up an onion, I started to peel away the papery outer layers, even though I knew he would prefer to use his knife and chop off the ends. He continued to slice, intently focusing on the root vegetable at his fingertips.
“We’ve done this a time or two without an EC. Feel free to enjoy the weekend without worrying about us.” His tone was carefully masked with neutrality, but I
sensed the frustration of feeling like I was micromanaging him.
I wondered about his motives for a second time since stepping inside the kitchen. Not that anyone enjoyed being micromanaged. That was a universally frustrating feeling.
“I realize,” I told him. “It’s more about me than you.” He glanced up at me, an unspoken question flashing in his dark green gaze. Shrugging, I let him know more than I intended to tell him. “My first EC job… I’m not sure what all it entails yet, you know? I just needed to know that the building hadn’t been hit by a wayward meteor in the middle of the night.”
“You could have called,” he added. “Or texted.”
I shrugged again. “Seeing is believing.” He fell quiet for a minute as another chef walked over to ask my opinion on how I wanted the beef bourguignon prepared tonight. I tried not to wrinkle my nose at the reminder of how outdated the menu was.
I made a groaning sound and stretched my arms behind my back. “God, this place needs an update.”
Blaze snorted next to me. I couldn’t tell if he agreed with me or not. “Good luck with that. We’ve tried. Ezra—Er, Mr. Baptiste—is resistant to change.”
I smiled at him, showing my teeth. “That’s why we won’t ask.” The idea grew wings inside my chest, jumping out of the nest of thought into a full-on game plan that could be the change that saved this ship. “On Monday, when I get back, be ready to brainstorm ideas.”
He stopped chopping to give me a look. “You think he’s going to let you mix up his menu? He credits the damn thing as the reason Bianca hasn’t gone bankrupt yet.”
“We’re not going to ask his opinion,” I told him conspiratorially. “When it comes to my brother, it’s better to employ the whole ‘it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission’ game plan.” I realized I’d just tipped my hand. If Blaze wanted me out, he could absolutely use this against me.
Not that it would do him a whole lot of good.
But if Ezra came back to me today or tomorrow forbidding me to change his menu, I would know where Blaze and I stood.
Blaze chuckled at my approach to getting what I want and said, “You’re the boss.”
That was true. I was the boss.
I stood there for several more minutes, watching the staff scurry back and forth, preparing for tonight’s service. Aside from Ashlynn, they seemed to be a great group. They all knew what they were doing, and they didn’t need a lot of instruction—or maybe that was my lack of experience, not knowing how to instruct them.
Letting out a slow breath, I decided not to worry about all the things I didn’t know for today. I had plenty of time to worry about it on Monday when we revamped the menu and I had to help them transition.
After a few minutes, the tense silence from my sous chef got to me. “What kind of name is Blaze? It sounds like you should have been a stunt double or spy or something.”
He smiled at the thin strips of onion on the cutting board in front of him. “My parents thought they were clever. My younger sister’s name is Ember.”
“I kind of like it actually,” I told him. “Blaze and Ember. It’s clever.”
“Thank you.”
He grabbed another onion and had the skin off for quick chopping in seconds. Cutting onions wasn’t a job he needed to concern himself with. He was the boss while I was gone. He could have easily delegated this to anyone else.
“On second thought, it’s a perfect name for a chef.” I rolled it around in my mouth again before admitting, “Blaze Ferrand. You’ll be Michelin starred before you know it.”
He smiled without looking at me. “Maybe one day.”
Now that the onions were out of the way, I took advantage, turning around and hopping up on the counter to sit so I could look at him.
“Loyalty.” The word was out of my mouth before I knew what I was going to say. My voice had just enough edge to catch his attention. He set his knife to the side and looked up at me.
“What about it?”
“I want it,” I explained. “Yours.” He leaned forward on his hands, dropping his head and hunching his shoulders. I continued before he could deny me the one thing, the only thing, I wanted from him. “I know I haven’t earned it. I realize you’re looking at me like I got lucky, like I got the job because my brother is the owner, like I don’t deserve to be where I am. And honestly, you might be right. But I would like the opportunity to prove myself before you totally write me off. I won’t even get a chance to get this right if you’re just waiting for me to quit. Or fail. Or worse. So, either I need your loyalty, or I need you to leave.”
I knew both of us were surprised at the way I’d delivered my speech. I hadn’t been tough or stern since I fired Ashlynn. If anything, I’d been overly nice and polite to make up for my egomaniac moment.
“I don’t trust you.” His honest admission was even more shocking than my ultimatum. “You haven’t earned it yet.”
Was that true? What was a reasonable expectation of this staff? Weighing his words, I realized he was right. I couldn’t expect, after only a little while of working together and in a position that for all intents and purposes looked and felt and smelled like nepotism, for him to blindly trust me.
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, maki
ng 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.”
The Something about Her: Opposites Attract book four Page 13
