Love On the Line: An Enemies to Lovers Standalone

by Adriana Peck

“…So, I thought a calzone would be a good idea,” Carly is in the middle of explaining. “I had Rosa mock one up, she’s got it in the oven now.” And when she sees me in the office door, Carly looks up and grins devilishly. “The calzone still going?” she asks in a sly tone.

  It takes a lot of self-control not to strangle her. “Actually, Mason, the calzone was my idea,” I clarify. “I thought you’d like something new for the critic tonight.”

  Mason looks up from his accounting book. “So, who’s idea was this, exactly?”

  “Mine,” Chef Carly and I both say at the same time. We look at one another and scowl.

  Mason is taken aback and clearly doesn’t want to get involved in our conflict. “Well, whoever made it needs to let me try some before we serve it to the customers,” Mason says, going back to his book. “Just keep me posted, alright?”

  Carly beams. “Will do, boss.” As she leaves, she traces one finger down Mason’s arm in a sultry manner. I want to gag. Mason doesn’t bother looking up from his book as she leaves, but once she’s gone I close the door behind her.

  “Mason, it was my idea. The calzone,” I tell him. He looks up from his book, and I can tell I have his full undivided attention.

  “I knew it,” he mutters. “Carly likes to try and take the credit for other people’s work. Hell, I bet she didn’t even call Deporte Magazine to bring in the critic this time. Someone else probably did that for her, too.”

  “Do you still think there’s a chance the critic will show tonight?”

  “I really think they will. Carly’ll lose her job if she lies about the same thing again. So I’m trusting her on this, but only this. Everything else is up to you.”

  I nod. “I’m Head Chef again? Title and everything?”

  “Oh yeah. You’re my number one,” Mason says. “I don’t want you to ever forget that.”

  I beam. I’m really starting to feel welcomed back now.

  I go back out in the kitchen and finish prepping the calzone for Mason to try. No matter what Carly tries to throw at us, we’ll be ready tonight.

  ◆◆◆

  Mason tries the calzone, coming out to the kitchen as soon as it’s ready. I put it on a plate for him and the rest of the staff to try before we all get started on making them tonight. As Mason takes the first bite of the calzone, I can see Carly’s look of pure white-hot anger directed at me, her eyes in me like daggers.

  But I don’t really care. She’s a Chef here, but that’s it. I’m Head Chef again. Everything’s going to be right as rain after tonight. After we get this good review under our belt.

  Mason calls the staff together once everyone’s tried the calzone.

  “Okay, you guys know the drill,” Mason says, clapping his hands. “Head Chef Rosa is back. Chef Carly’s backing us up tonight, too. So all hands on deck.

  “You all tried the eggplant calzone. You like it? Good. Rosa’s going to tell you all what you need to do to make it. And that’s what we give the critic tonight, okay? No funny business, no goofing off. Let’s make it happen.”

  And with that, the staff scatters, ready to conquer tonight’s mountainous challenge head-on and I can see a look of pride slapped across Mason’s face. He knows we’re not going down without a fight.

  An hour later, the doors open and the customers start pouring in. We’ll have the critic here at eight, in a little under three hours.

  It’s go time.

  Thirty

  As eight o’clock rears its ugly head, the staff is in full swing. Everyone in the kitchen works in tandem like a well-oiled machine. The eggplant calzone is a hit. Everyone who comes in tonight wants to try the dish, even Rupert, Mason’s old regular from the Porto and his former contractor.

  I cover all the prep that’s needed to churn out calzone after calzone. Chef Carly stays out of my way as she sticks to making the pasta orders that occasionally make it back to us. Mason stays at the front of the restaurant, keeping an eye out for the critic.

  At eight-oh-three, Mason barges into the kitchen with wide eyes.

  “He’s here,” Mason says gravely. “And it’s bad.”

  “Bad?” Carly pipes up. “How so?”

  “Michael Crissom bad,” Mason says gravely. Despite claiming to work for Deporte Magazine, Carly has no idea who that is. I fill her in after she looks to me with a helpless expression.

  “He’s the top food critic for Deporte Mag,” I explain. “And he’s brutal.”

  “How brutal?” asks Carly.

  “Like, shut your restaurant down the next day brutal,” Mason adds.

  I sigh, but keep my head up and try my best to have a positive attitude. “He’s going to like the eggplant,” I say positively. “And he’s going to give us a good review. Everyone just needs to think straight here.”

  Carly looks at me with a look of disdain, but Mason smiles.

  “Rosa’s right," Mason hollers so the rest of the staff can hear. “We’ve got this, guys!” and he claps his hands to get everyone back on track.

  I look down at my clear workstation. Mason comes over to me.

  “You can do this,” he says. “Knock it out of the park just like we know you will.”

  And so I get started on the eggplant calzone for the critic Michael Crissom, the future of Sebastian’s in my hands as I knead the dough.

  ◆◆◆

  We pull the calzone out of the oven as soon as the timer’s done. This is the calzone that’s going to make or break us.

  I plate it up as perfectly as I can, adding a drizzle of marinara sauce atop it for garnish. It’s simple, it’s rudimentary, but it’ll do.

  “He’s going to love it,” I tell Mason reassuringly. “I just know it.”

  Mason nods. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  Mason finishes plating the dish, places it on a serving tray and picks it up and hoists it over his head as he walks out to the restaurant lobby.

  Michael Crissom is sitting at the table we set aside for him, waiting patiently. He’s in his early forties, a bushy black beard standing out over the light-blue dinner jacket he’s wearing. Michael’s on his phone, texting, and I watch from the partition as Mason takes the calzone over to the critic, setting it down as he steps back expectantly.

  Michael looks up at Mason, perplexed. Nevertheless, he lifts his fork, cuts into the calzone and takes a bite.

  He looks up at Mason and grins.

  ◆◆◆

  Mason and Michael shoot the breeze for a while after the first bite goes over so well. Michael invites Mason to sit. I take that as a good sign, and the two men grin as they chit-chat while Michael eats the calzone. It’s that moment that seals the victory for me. Michael Crissom is notorious for never finishing a plate he doesn’t like. Never wants to waste a calorie, I guess. I can’t hear them, but I take a minute to watch them talk anyways. The kitchen’ll be fine without me for a minute. Besides, the most important review that’s going out the doors tonight is going to be a good one. I can just tell.

  After they talk for a while, Mason thanks Michael for visiting, shakes his hand once the calzone’s finished. Mason brings the plate back to the kitchen and practically throws the double doors open.

  I grin at him expectantly. “Did he like it?”

  Mason nods, grinning back at me. “Oh yeah, he did.”

  I look back over at Carly, who’s staring down at her workspace blankly. I wonder why she doesn’t want to share the moment with Mason, until I realize she probably never wanted him to succeed in the first place. It makes total sense, too. If Mason fails, then they can both be miserable together. I wonder if I should tell Mason my theory, but I brush it off. He probably already knows that about her.

  The rest of the night goes by in a snap. Before I know it, I find myself cleaning up my workstation as Carly dips out for the night without saying a word to Mason. She never once congratulated him tonight, and her leaving seals the deal for me.

  Mason is all mine.

  I finish my
cleanup and head out to the lobby where I find Mason counting down the drawer.

  “So, got any plans tonight?” I ask him, grinning. “Carly’s left already, so I guess she’s too busy for you.”

  Mason shakes his head. “Carly and I aren’t going to see each other outside of work anymore. I asked her not to come back in tomorrow, or any day after for that matter. Not after she tried taking the credit for your eggplant that won Michael over. But no, I don’t have any plans tonight.”

  Those are the four greatest sentences I’ve ever heard.

  “Let’s get a drink, then,” I say. “To celebrate.”

  “Got a place in mind?”

  “Let’s go pay the Loudmouth a visit,” I beam. “For old time’s sake.”

  Thirty-One

  Mason tells me that Louie’s not expecting much of a crowd tonight, so we’ll actually have enough space to hear one another talk.

  Mason orders a beer, and I order a glass of red wine. Louie slaps Mason on the back when he drops off our drinks, and Mason smiles at Louie as his bartender friend retreats back to his workstation.

  “So, to the first of many successful nights?” Mason holds his glass up for a toast, and I clink my glass against his.

  “And to so, so many more,” I say as I grin and drink up. Mason belches when he sets his glass back down, and I giggle. He’s really cute when he wants to be. I’m absolutely smitten with him, I’ll admit it. Having Carly out of the picture for good reassures me that I can feel this way.

  Ever since we first met, I knew Mason would be a difficult nut to crack. From our rivalry at the Restaurante Porto to our reluctant partnership in business, and all the speed bumps along the way, I knew Mason would be the best partner I could ever ask for.

  Mason takes another sip of his beer, sets his glass down. “Rosa, do you think I’m…” he trails off.

  “Do I think you’re what?”

  “…An asshole?” he finishes.

  I blush. “Sometimes,” I say, but then I suddenly take it back. “Of course not. A bit of a prick sometimes, but you’re cute enough to make it worth it.”

  Mason smiles at that, and heads over to the bar to get another round. Louie screams his order back at him, pours me another glass of the red wine. He drops a beer on the floor before he can hand it over to Mason, shattering glass everywhere. Mason doesn’t say anything, but goes behind the bar where the mess is as he grabs a broom that’s tucked away by the bathroom on the way there. Mason helps his friend sweep up the mess before thanking him and taking our drinks back over to our table.

  “For the lady,” Mason says, handing me my second and final drink for the evening. I never want to lose control in front of Mason again, and I know cutting back on the red wine will only help me in the long run. He smiles at me as I take a sip of wine and I look at him inquisitively.

  “It’s you,” he says. “It’s always been you.”

  “Mason, I think you’re just grand,” I say, laughing. He grins, leans over his beer and my glass of wine and kisses me.

  And I kiss him back. I’m more than happy to.

  Thirty-Two

  Sebastian’s Eatery is finally fully up and running like a well-oiled machine. It only took us a few months to get into a rhythm, but it’s been great so far. As far as I know, the restaurant’s making just enough money to pay the staff; I haven’t turned a profit just yet, but that can still happen one day.

  And, Rosa’s started writing her cookbook. I let her work on it here at Sebastian’s when it gets slow, and sometimes we work on it together in the office when we aren’t busy with other things.

  If you know what I mean.

  We finally manage to catch the review from our guest from the other night, Michael Crissom. The day it’s printed, Rosa gathers the staff as she reads his words aloud from her phone.

  “I am pleased to announce that the gastropub Sebastian’s Eatery has had one of the best debuts that this culinary town has ever seen,” Rosa beams as she stands atop the counter for everyone to hear. “I give it a five out of five plates!”

  The entire staff cheers when they hear the rating as I stand behind everyone, taking it all in. This is our success, our moment of triumph. But it’s not just mine, and it’s not just Rosa’s. It’s all of ours, together as one.

  Our whole staff stays on as a team. Chef Donna keeps everything in line for Rosa, and Chef Jeremy’s finally off of his phone for good. When I’m looking, at least. Johnny’s got a new friend helping him out with the dishes, too.

  One fateful day after our perfectly glowing review hit the internet, I receive an application from a familiar friend. My old pal Benicio from the Restaurante Porto had put in an application to be our dishwasher, leaving it inside a manilla envelope in our mailbox. I pull out my phone. I still have Benicio’s number saved after all this time and I give my friend the job as soon as he answers the phone. He tells me his uncle’s shutting the Porto down after business steadily declined this past year after Rosa and I left. Gambio didn’t know how to run his show without us after all. Go figure.

  Now, Benicio and Johnny are my dishwashing peas in a pod, splitting shifts between them as they crank out dish after dish. Both of the Chefs work together, Donna and Jeremy divvying up tasks between them. Rosa doesn’t have to bark orders at them anymore. They’ve finally found their groove.

  One night, after Benicio and Johnny and Donna and Jeremy are all gone for the day, Rosa pulls me aside as I’m getting ready to count down the register. She has good news for me, and tells me something I never expected to hear my first year of owning a restaurant.

  “Mason, you’re in the green,” Rosa says, ruffling through a stack of papers she’d been carrying around with her for the latter half of the night. “I’ve gone over everything like you asked. Look. Your net profits finally grossed more than your total expenses.”

  She hands me over the papers, and by God, she’s right.

  I’ve finally done it. My restaurant is successful. I look up at Rosa, beaming.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you,” I say.

  “Nothing would have made me happier.” She smiles, leans over to me as she closes her eyes. I meet her in the middle. We embrace, kissing passionately in the lobby of the Sebastian’s.

  And it looks like love’s back on the line

  THE END.

  Books By This Author

  A Face in the Crowd: A Rockstar Romance

  A rockstar fifteen years past his prime. An up-and-coming young DJ about to take the electronica scene by storm. Together they will change the music industry...but can they make a relationship work between the two of them?

  Roland Biggs was the biggest thing in music--thirty years ago, to be precise. And he's experiencing the worst slump he's ever had at the end of a pretty prolonged career death. His agent offers him one last chance to get his career back up and running at the Old & New Tour, and he reluctantly accepts the offer.

  Jane Parker is about to change the DJ scene forever. She's bouncing from club to club, putting literary refrences galore in her music and jumps at the chance to perform at the Old & New Tour.

  Together Roland and Jane must work past their musical differences and see what they truly mean to one another. Strong language and mature themes. NO CHEATING, SAFE, HEA STORY!

  Join My mailing list and receive a free short story!

  Sign up and receive a FREE copy of my romantic short, "My Dinner with the Devil" after confirmation! Sign up HERE: http://eepurl.com/gSJrE1

 

 

 
hare-buttons">share