Reality of Love Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Marika Ray

  My mind couldn’t help but veer off course and remember the way Austin had looked under the lights last night, baring his soul for us to evaluate. I found him to be a different sort of handsome, which I found surprising. He made me feel off-kilter and unsure of myself, a feeling I didn’t welcome. I’d come here to advance my own career, and here I was, suddenly faced with the reality that these contestants were here to do the same. That my actions could make or break their dreams.

  Finally toweling off, I decided to leave my hair down today since we weren’t scheduled to film. Part of me looked forward to seeing Austin again, but I told myself it was just so I could see why I was perseverating on him. I wanted to understand my odd attraction to him when I felt nothing for the perfect Italian boy back in New York.

  Austin had a casual air about him, with his worn-in jeans and ridiculous T-shirts. His full sleeve of tattoos looked tough, but his temperament was easygoing. A smile came quickly to his face and I wanted to know how he did that. How did he crack jokes when he should have been scared out of his mind for the first challenge yesterday? It had been beaten into me since birth to take everything seriously and to work my ass off every single day for what I wanted. I just didn’t understand such levity in the face of a make-it-or-break-it opportunity.

  I was curious. That’s all.

  Applying the minimum of makeup required—but not without a deep red lip stain—I tossed on a green maxi dress that bared my shoulders. It may have been September, which meant cooler temps in New York, but here in Los Angeles, a strapless dress was perfect for the bright sun. Layering on gold necklaces and slipping into strappy gold sandals completed my casual look and I was out the door.

  When security finally let me through to the back studio—damn, they were rigorous with their security checks—I was right on time and slipped into a chair in the back as Tom stood to address the whole crew. I could see a dirty blond head of hair in the front row that had to be Austin.

  Not that I was looking for him.

  “I just heard from post production. They’ve gone through the takes from last night and said everything looks good. Congratulations.” The crew clapped and I joined in, a bit bewildered. I had no idea what we would have done if they hadn’t liked the shots. Would we have had to redo the entire challenge? Tom kept going before I could figure that out. “That means we can move on to challenge number two. I’ve asked the location manager to join me while I give you your assignments.”

  A short brunette stood up next to Tom at the front of the studio with a clipboard she referred to as she spoke. “Okay, so we’ll have one group in Napa. One in New Mexico. And the final group in Seattle. Specific locations and travel information will be emailed to you this afternoon. Each group will have one location assistant and one cameraperson.”

  Tom jumped back in. “Pairings are final so don’t come whining to me afterward. The whole point of this is to get you out of your normal environment and to learn from local chefs. Your appointed judge will be there to help you at every turn. Listen to them, learn from the local chef, then come back here with a new dish to wow the judges. One contestant will be eliminated this round.” He gave each of the contestants in the front row a scary look.

  My knees bobbed up and down as I sat there listening to everything. I was hoping to get paired with Austin, but the more sensible side of me knew that would be a disaster. Better to get the sweaty man and have a valid reason to keep my distance. A shiver of revulsion ran down my spine at the memory of his sweat-soaked towel from last night. Yep, Dale was the perfect choice for me.

  “All right, settle down!” Tom waited for everyone to hush before continuing. “I highly suggest you use the rest of today to bond with your judge and map out a game plan. Without further ado, Dale and Jason. You’re going to Seattle with Michael Fin.”

  Damn, there went my hope for sweaty boy. My heart was pounding. Everyone talked amongst themselves, knowing that meant Dale and Jason were the bottom two contestants.

  Tom read from the clipboard. “Brandy. You’re going to New Mexico with...let’s see here. I can’t read that. Oh, wait, yes. You’re going to New Mexico with Bertrand Paul.”

  My nose went numb. I imagined I was drilling holes in the back of Austin’s head with my glare alone. “Hijo de puta,” I muttered to myself.

  “...with Elle Fierro in Napa.” I caught the last part of what Tom was saying. Then Austin was spinning around and combing over the faces behind him until his gaze landed on me. He didn’t smile, just gave a firm nod and spun back around.

  A few minutes later we were dismissed. I stayed where I was, letting everyone mill around while I awaited the inevitable. I’d be spending the next few days with Austin. I almost laughed out loud. Life was a funny bitch.

  I felt him beside me before I saw him, which didn’t bode well for this trip. I was entirely too aware of him for my own good.

  “Ms. Fierro?” His voice was low, the gravelly nature of it resonating with something inside of me. The deference in his tone made me smile.

  I turned my head and looked up through my lashes at him. “You’ve seen me half naked, Mr. Cox. Surely you can call me Elle now.”

  My inner puta sat up and cheered when his cheeks turned red under his beard. But to his credit, he didn’t back down. “Then please, call me Austin.”

  “Oh, but I haven’t seen you half naked.”

  He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, his look pure innocence. “We can take care of that right now if you want.”

  I just smiled at him, not moving to take him up on his outrageous offer. He sighed and sat down next to me, his denim-clad knee bumping mine.

  “I wanted to officially apologize for that. I thought it was my dressing room. Otherwise, I would have knocked.” He ran a hand through his hair, seeming bigger now that he was right next to me. “Well, I wouldn’t have even gone to your room. I just—I want you to know I’m sorry. Truly.”

  As far as apologies went, it sounded like a good one. Sincere even. I nodded slowly. “Forgiven.” I stood up quickly, ready to move on. “Let’s go get a late lunch and discuss. I don’t lose, which means you can’t lose this round. Understood?”

  His eyes flashed. With what, I didn’t know. But he stood and walked out of the studio with me, his pace matching mine. The silence was awkward with what I hoped and dreaded was attraction thrumming between us. I wondered if it was all in my head or if he felt it too. Not that I’d ever ask. Better to play dumb and pretend it was simply awkward because we were two strangers thrust into an intimate experience.

  Without speaking, I went to my parked rental car and he climbed into the passenger seat. We clicked on our seatbelts and I started the car. I could feel him staring at the side of my head.

  “You know where you’re going?”

  I looked over at him completely straight-faced. “Rule number one, rookie. Trust your judge.”

  The edges of his mouth turned down and he leaned back in his seat. “Okay there, scary pants.”

  I wrenched the wheel and gave it some gas, squealing the tires as I exited the lot. “Rule number two: don’t call me scary pants.”

  He snorted. “That’s a silly rule.”

  “Yes. So is calling me scary pants.” I turned right onto Hollywood Way. “Get out your phone.”

  “My phone? Why?”

  I sliced a glance at him. “Do we need to go over rule number one again?”

  “Okay, okay, scar—Elle.” He lifted his hips and pulled out his phone, awaiting my directions.

  “Tell me where I’m going.”

  His laugh boomed out in the confines of my car. “I thought you knew where you were going?”

  I couldn’t help the beginnings of a smile creeping onto my face. His laugh was the contagious kind. “I knew how to get out of the lot. Figured you could navigate the rest of the way for me.” I shrugged.

  He held up his phone. “Not with this thing.”

  I looked over to see an ancient flip phone in his
hand.

  “Mierda, that’s an antique. You do know they make smartphones now, yes?” I swiveled my head left and right, looking for a promising neighborhood where I might find a restaurant.

  Austin started drumming his fingers on his knee. “Yeah, I’ve heard that. Something about an iPhone?” He crinkled up his face, which was oddly endearing. I rolled my eyes at his antics. “Some of us can’t afford the new smartphones. Besides, the flip phone works just fine.”

  A painful dart of something I couldn’t name hit me straight in the chest. Who couldn’t afford a smartphone these days? I felt bad for him, but pity wouldn’t find us a restaurant. “Here.” I handed him my clutch. “Grab my phone and pull up the maps.”

  He paused a second, but when I shook my bag at him, he took it, his hands rougher than I would have expected for a chef. He lifted the flap and pulled out my phone, along with my lipstick. He lifted the tube up and read the bottom. “Rouge Coco,” he whispered to himself.

  “Hey! Map, please.” I turned right down a large street, thinking it looked more promising. His fingering of my lipstick was making my lips tingle. He put the tube back in my clutch and I breathed easier.

  “I can’t get your phone to turn on.” He held it out to me, the phone looking tiny cupped in his massive hand.

  I took one hand off the steering wheel and placed my thumb on the home button to unlock the screen. The movement essentially forced us to hold hands for agonizingly long seconds until the screen came to life and I was able to whip my hand back to the wheel. I cleared my throat, ignoring the way my blood pressure seemed to spike from simple human contact.

  “Okay, here we go. It looks like if we’re the moving blue dot, you can make a left at the next stoplight and there’s some little bistro. Sound good?” He was enlarging the map and turning the phone sideways then back upright. I didn’t know how he could tell anything moving it around like that, but a bistro sounded perfect.

  I made the left and spotted a little outdoor café. Pulling into the parking lot, I hopped out and waited for him at the trunk of the car. He ambled up like he had all the time in the world and no nerves whatsoever being in the same car with me.

  “It doesn’t go with my outfit.” He handed over my clutch, the feminine bag looking ridiculous with his jeans.

  I accepted my bag and walked to the front door of the café. “Nothing goes with that outfit...”

  “Ouch, Elle. I thought we were here for cooking, not fashion.” I heard him behind me, his long strides quickly catching up to me. He opened the café door for me and I swept inside.

  “Rule number three—”

  “Oh boy...”

  I swatted his chest with my clutch. “As I was saying...how you dress and present yourself to the world has a huge effect on your success in the restaurant business. You dress like you just rolled out of bed? You won’t be taken seriously. You dress to impress? Doors will open.”

  “Would you like to sit inside or outside?” the hostess asked with a smile.

  “Outside, please.” I didn’t wait to see if Austin agreed.

  As we got settled at a table with the perfect amount of shade and sunshine, Austin had gone quiet on me. I wanted to help him, but perhaps I was too brutal. Wouldn’t be the first time I was told I came off a bit too harsh. “Did I offend you?”

  He looked up at me from his menu, his eyes a darker shade of blue than I remembered them as being. “I hear what you’re saying and while I appreciate the advice and will take it to heart, you need to know I’m not here to become a celebrity chef, or own my own restaurant, or put out a cookbook. I’m here to learn from the best and then get a well-paying job at a restaurant.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “I’m confused. Don’t you already work at a restaurant?”

  He set down his menu and leaned forward a bit. “No. I work as a bartender.”

  We sat there staring at each other as people bustled around us, oblivious to everything but this conversation. There was more to Austin Cox than I originally thought. How could he have the skill level he’d demonstrated if he had so little experience? I was still just as confused about him as ever. I decided I needed to go back to square one to figure him out.

  “All right. Let’s start over. Hello, I’m Elle Fierro.” I reached across the table with my hand out. His gaze dropped to my hand and then back to my face, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  His lips tilted up and he shook my hand before answering, “Hi, Elle. I’m Austin Cox.”

  I retrieved my hand and placed my elbows on the table, my chin propped up by my fists. “So, tell me about yourself, Austin.”

  He sat back and studied me. “Shouldn’t we be talking about Napa? What dish we’re going to work on?”

  I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. “You seem to think cooking is formulaic. Add this, blend that, bake for a certain amount of time, and voilà! Food genius.” I shook my head. “It most certainly doesn’t work that way, Austin. Food takes on a life of its own. It’s a living thing you’re manipulating and changing, then adding in your own unique twist to create something people will love and want to consume for years to come. You can’t create food genius until you know the basics and know how to extend from there. Until you know who you are as a chef and what unique twist you bring to the kitchen. I can’t help you if I don’t know who you are.” I sat back in my chair. “So I ask again. Tell me something about yourself, Austin.”

  “You’re a tyrant, you know that, right?” He gave me a wry grin.

  “Refer to rule number two.”

  He faked shock. “Oh, so now I can’t call you scary pants or a tyrant?”

  I sliced my hand through the air. “Enough jokes. Who the hell are you, Austin Cox?” This man could talk for days and not say anything. He had a joke for every occasion. But I wanted to know the real man underneath all his protective humor.

  He clenched his jaw and leaned forward. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know. I didn’t grow up in a fancy place like Spain or New York. I lived with a single mom struggling to do right by her two kids. I learned to cook to help her out and to stay out of trouble. So fancy dishes with French names aren’t in my repertoire. I don’t have aspirations of being a celebrity chef wearing a fancy bow tie because more than anything, I just want to support myself. I don’t need accolades from food critics or cookbook sales to bolster my self-esteem. I just want to do what I love to do and get paid for it.”

  His hands were fisted on the table, the tension in him obvious. I’d hit on a sensitive subject and I reveled in his passion.

  I pointed a burgundy painted fingernail in his face. “That’s what I wanted to know. Lovely to finally meet you, Austin.”

  The server came up right then and took our orders, helping to diffuse the situation. When she left, we got down to business and discussed what dishes I had in mind and which chef we’d be meeting in Napa. Austin had good ideas already, yet also seemed open-minded, which was important this early in the game. By the time we finished our late lunch, we had a game plan and the travel itinerary had been emailed to us.

  Back in my rental, I grabbed my phone to unlock it and handed it to Austin. He helped us navigate back to the hotel we were all staying at like we did this every day. I felt like we’d reached a truce of some sort. We were friendly, but distant. I didn’t ask him any more intrusive questions and he kept the jokes on lockdown. Part of me missed his easy laugh and silly disposition.

  I pulled into a parking space and parked, doors unlocking automatically. Austin moved to get out.

  “Meet you in the hotel lobby at six tomorrow morning? We can share a ride to the airport.” I extended the olive branch, feeling a bit of guilt for being so hard on him. It was simply the only way I knew how to be.

  He got out and leaned his head back into the car. “Sounds good. Get a good night’s sleep. We’ve got a competition to win.” Then he winked and smiled at me before slamming the door shut.

  My insides began to ri
ot, that wink doing damage before I could shut it down. I put the car in reverse and hightailed it out of there, having to navigate for myself without Austin by my side to tell me where to go. I had an errand to run. One I hoped would smooth things over between us.

  6

  Austin

  I don’t know what I expected from Elle yesterday, but it wasn’t to be interrogated about my personal life. She was a small woman, but she dealt a heavy blow with her cutting words. Those lips of hers, that I still fantasized about like a drug addict, were quick to bark rules at me. But then she’d offered solid advice left and right. I could tell she was trying to help me, but damn, I’d need a Kevlar vest to protect myself from her verbal bullets.

  I was down in the hotel lobby at 5:45 in the morning to make sure I was there before Elle. Getting on her bad side so early on this trip wasn’t a game plan I intended to follow. I’d thought about her comments as I lay in bed last night and realized I probably should clean up my look. Unfortunately, I didn’t bring anything else with me and I didn’t have the money to go out and buy new clothes.

  That led me to thinking about how she also wanted me to figure out who I was and how I’d bring my own unique spin to the recipes. There was one huge problem with that advice: I was just some hick-town guy with a passion for throwing food together to feed my friends and family. It wasn’t exactly a unique story or one that would lead to greatness.

  So I did some further research on Elle Fierro last night. Turns out, her mom was a famous international fashion model. Elle had been born in Spain, raised in New York City, and traveled all over the world with her mom. Now that was a story! From her clothes, to her handbags, to her choice in Chanel lipstick...Elle screamed money. There was no way she could understand a guy like me with ten worn-out T-shirts to my name.