by Marika Ray
Which was disappointing on so many levels. The pie-in-the-sky part of me was down in the dumps that we’d never work out as a couple. Not like there was any chance in hell of that happening anyway, but a guy could dream, right? On a more practical level, I was worried I got paired up with the wrong judge for this second challenge. I mean, her lipstick cost more than my shirt, jeans, and shoes combined. If she didn’t understand me, how could she possibly help come up with a dish that was both amazingly different and yet still “me”?
“I’m glad you understand rule number four.” Elle’s voice came from behind me, the slight roll in her Rs making up for the ridiculous early morning hour. Her voice was in direct contrast to her words. It was melodic, her accent thick, despite having grown up in the States. And then there were her words. Cutting. Ruthless. Allowing for no mistakes.
I took in her outfit and makeup as she came up next to me, utterly perfect like she wasn’t quite human. “Let me guess. Never make your judge wait?”
She beamed like I passed the first test of the day. “Precisely.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. Barely. Instead, I got busy grabbing my duffle bag off the wood floor and taking her rolling suitcase from her. She started walking out the lobby double doors and I followed behind.
“I thought this trip was only one overnight.” When she glanced back at me, I nodded toward her full-sized suitcase.
I could have sworn her cheeks pinked a bit before she bit back in the form of a scathing comment. “Yes. One overnight. Some of us dress to impress, which takes space.” She popped open her trunk and pulled out a brown paper gift back. “Speaking of which, I got you something.”
She nearly threw it at me and then scrambled to get in the driver’s seat of her car, leaving me with the gift bag, her suitcase, and my duffel. Guess I’d be the bellhop on this trip. I stowed the two bags in the trunk and took the gift bag with me to the passenger side of the car.
Sinking down onto the soft leather, I eyed the package like it might explode on me. “Is it safe to open?”
She turned to look at me quickly, confusion in her brown eyes, maybe even a touch of hurt. “Yes, of course. I hope you don’t take offense. I just wanted to do something nice.”
I nodded, trying to keep the grin off my face. “I know. That’s why I’m worried.”
She smacked my arm with the back of her hand, the blow pathetic at best. “Just open it, Cox.”
“I like how you say Cox...” I mumbled while digging into the tissue paper in the gift bag.
“What was that?” She leaned toward me and I paused to inhale her perfume, sweet and spicy. Not unlike the woman herself.
My hand hit something soft, so I pulled it out and shook it to get it to unravel.
Elle Fierro bought me a shirt. A button-down, collared shirt without a bar logo on the front. It looked expensive.
“Do you like it?” She chewed on her bottom lip as I stared at the dark blue shirt. When I didn’t answer, she continued to sell me on it. “I thought the blue would match your eyes.”
Ho-lee-shit. Elle was thinking about my eyes. I grinned like a schoolboy finding out his first crush stole his eraser. Buying me a shirt had to mean she liked me, right?
I reached back and grabbed my T-shirt behind my head and pulled it off. I had to get that new bad boy on ASAP.
“Dios mío...” Elle muttered next to me.
I got my arms through the sleeves and started on the buttons, my grin growing as I saw that it fit me perfectly, like she’d memorized my size. It felt expensive against my skin, the cloth soft and thick.
Once it was on, I spun to Elle to find her still chewing on that bottom lip. “I love it. Thank you, Elle.” Before I could rethink the consequences of hugging the prickliest woman on earth, I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her in for a friendly squeeze. I was a hugger. Wasn’t everyone a hugger?
I meant to pull back right away, but then the scent of her shampoo hit my nose, and the feel of her warm body in my arms pierced my awareness. She remained rigid, but didn’t object, more like she was curious as to what I was doing. Like hugs weren’t familiar to her. Which made me want to hang on even longer.
“Rule number five—” she said against my shoulder.
I pulled back and settled in my seat. “Yeah, yeah, don’t hug the judge.”
She started the car, and with her phone in my hand, I got us to the airport. Once we boarded the plane, Elle pulled out several cookbooks and we spent the quick one-hour flight going over possible recipes to highlight my skills. The idea was to incorporate some food element from our location. In our case, we needed to make sure it involved wine, since that was the predominant thing Napa was known for.
By the time we got to the rental car lot, Elle seemed to have warmed up to me quite a bit. She wasn’t overly friendly—I couldn’t expect miracles—but she wasn’t cold either. We’d struck a good working relationship and my hopes were high that we’d actually pull this thing off.
We pulled into the parking lot of Celadon, its kitchen humming, but not yet open to the public. We had an appointment with the head chef, Samantha Cristoff, to learn how she made her restaurant one of the most sought-after reservations in all of Napa Valley. She welcomed me like she was happy to have me, then she walked me through her main dish for that evening, a Moroccan braised lamb shank.
“Did you ever think you’d be braising a leg of lamb in Napa, Austin?” Samantha asked me with a wide grin while we chopped more garlic. She was a ton of fun and had gone out of her way all morning to make sure I knew exactly what I was doing, not in a condescending way, but like a team player who wanted to see me win.
Our lone cameraperson zoomed in on our conversation, catching the friendly way she bumped my side with her elbow.
“Nah, this was definitely not on my radar. I was thinking more along the lines of a local steakhouse in a small town being the pinnacle of my career.”
Samantha shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that either. But from what I’ve seen, you have skills that go beyond that if that’s what you want. I mean, you’re the one who came up with the wine reduction idea. If it works, I’m going to steal your idea and take the credit.”
I laughed. “Probably shouldn’t tell me that when the cameras are rolling.”
Samantha laughed right along with me. “Damn! I knew I wouldn’t get away with it.”
“Okay, let’s get back to this reduction. We need to make a few different varieties to determine which one is best.” Elle jumped in between the two of us, a serious frown marring her features and tapping on her watch. Wow, back to cold-as-ice Fierro. “We only have two hours left to get this right.”
Elle spun back around to grab another bottle of red wine. I saluted behind her back and Samantha snorted out a stifled laugh. Elle spun around and narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t make me go over rule number one again,” she snapped.
She brought over the wine and smacked it down on the counter, harder than necessary. I touched her elbow, where the camera couldn’t see, pulling her in closer. “Hey, I’m sorry. You’re right. We’ll get the reduction perfect and win this thing. You’ll see.”
My whispered apology must have done the trick as her eyes softened and she attempted a smile. “You’re on to something here. I just want to see you present something increíble.”
I squeezed her arm and nodded my understanding before turning back to the stove and getting busy on my second reduction. By the time the remaining two hours were up, we had a perfected recipe and I had a new friend in Chef Cristoff.
She hugged me goodbye after the camera was done filming and her kitchen was humming with staff for the evening meal service. “I wish you all the success, Austin. You’re going to do great, I have no doubt.”
She had no idea what her vote of confidence meant to me. She then said her goodbye to Elle, a handshake instead of a hug, which struck me as sad.
Elle just didn’t know how to loosen up. That was my of
ficial diagnosis after spending the day with her. And if there was one thing I was confident in, it was my ability to get people to chill out, feel comfortable, and have a good time.
Elle helped me all day today. Now it was time for me to help her.
Whether she wanted it or not.
When we left Celadon, Elle suggested we stay at the hotel restaurant to grab dinner and finish strategizing. I was dead on my feet and all too happy to relax back at the hotel. On the drive over, Elle was still a little short with me, not enjoying my jokes as I helped her navigate. Not that her not enjoying my jokes was anything new. Dangerously, I’d decided making her laugh was my new mission.
While we were stuck at a red light I started with my most cheesy of jokes. “What if soy milk is just regular milk introducing itself in Spanish?”
She side-eyed me, so I knew she heard me. Her jaw clenched, but not even a hint of a smile. Time to try again.
“What do you call a fake noodle?” Silence was my answer. I was not deterred. “An impasta!”
She took a deep breath, but alas, no laugh. “You’re going to just keep going, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “Seemed like a fun idea to get you to laugh.”
She gave a dainty snort. “Why don’t you save your jokes for your new friend Samantha.”
Oh, so that’s how it was. “Are you jealous of my new friend?”
She scrunched her face like she smelled a bad mushroom. “Of course not! You can be friends with whomever you like.”
“Well, thank you for your permission, Ms. Fierro. For your information, telling jokes and laughing with others is a lovely way to make friends. You should try it sometime.”
She wrenched the wheel as we turned into the hotel parking lot. I almost hit my head on the passenger window, which I’m sure was what she was going for.
“I tell jokes all the time. I have plenty of friends.” She sniffed.
“Really? Name one.”
She threw the car into park and narrowed her eyes at me. “What is your point?” She climbed out of the car without waiting for my answer.
Suddenly, getting her to laugh didn’t matter anymore. I was done trying to be nice to her. I was tired of being dismissed. Some people just couldn’t be helped.
I climbed out after her, meeting her at the trunk while she tried unsuccessfully to get her heavy bag out. “That. Right there. That’s my point.”
She let go of her bag and put her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about?”
I jabbed my finger in the direction of the car. “You asked me a question and then instead of taking half a second to hear my answer, you got out of the car. That’s rude, Elle.” I started counting off on my fingers. “You’re short with everyone. You give out dirty looks like Dale puts out sweat. You bark out rules like I’m some underling who should hold his breath and wait for your next order. You’re as prickly as a cactus in the desert. I’ve tried being nice to you and tried to cajole you out of your perpetual bad mood, but I think it’s a lost cause.”
I threw my hands in the air and puffed out a breath up to the sky as she stood there glaring at me. “You know what? Never mind. We don’t have to like each other. I appreciate your time today and for helping me with that reduction sauce.”
I dropped my hands and faced her. She was still staring at me, her eyes flashing as they darted back and forth across my face, but her body remained completely still. A lead weight settled in my stomach and I wondered if I just screwed myself with my outburst. God, she made me so angry sometimes.
Her fists finally left her hips and dangled by her sides. She nodded and looked down at my chest, blinking rapidly. “I’m—sorry.” One hand went to her stomach, like the apology had been physically ripped from her. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I want your answer. If you’ll still give it to me.”
Her gaze finally lifted to mine, her eyes shiny with something like remorse. I felt like I’d just kicked a puppy with this uncharacteristic display of emotion. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed again.
“It’s okay, Elle. I just—”
Her phone blared out an obnoxious ring tone, cutting into the moment and the truce we were on our way to making. She fumbled with her handbag and pulled out her phone, the one I now knew the password to since I’d used it so much this trip.
“Lo siento...” she murmured before answering and turning away, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the phone.
“Hola, Madre.”
I hoisted her bag out of the trunk and retrieved my duffle, wanting to give her some space, but also needing to get back to our conversation right before we were interrupted. I felt like we were finally on the cusp of getting along. Not just on a business level, but on a personal level, and for some reason that meant everything.
When the bags were out, I noticed a couple packages of those powder-covered donuts you could get out of the vending machine. Considering she was a world-class chef, it was hard to imagine her finding those tasty. Then again, those little donuts had gotten me through college, so I could kind of understand the obsession. Interesting.
Shutting the trunk, I started to haul our bags into the hotel and check us in when I heard Elle’s voice responding to her mother in rapid-fire Spanish. I couldn’t possibly keep up with the translation, but her pacing and tone told me everything I needed to know. The bags could wait. I halted right there in the middle of the parking lot and waited for her.
She was quiet for a few seconds, then spat something into the phone before hanging up and gritting her teeth.
“Arghhh...” she let out a half moan, half scream at the moon. She looked so dejected standing there in the dark, howling in frustration.
I left the bags where they were on the pavement, walking over the ten feet to close the gap between us. Without giving two shits about personal space or our tentative working relationship, I wrapped her in a hug, her cheek resting on my chest. I didn’t dare breathe for fear she’d push me away, too withdrawn to accept my comfort or friendship.
Then I felt her small arms snake around my waist, her hands resting on my waist awkwardly. If her muscles went any tighter I’d worry she was having a seizure. Above her head, I smiled like a loon. Damn woman didn’t even know how to give a hug.
“Seriously? That’s all you got?” I chuckled, still holding her tight. She tried to pull back, but I made a noise in the back of my throat and held her closer. “Squeeze me like those little powdered donuts you love so much.”
“What—” She tried to pull away again only to have the tight band of my arms pull her back.
“Your secret’s safe with me. Come on. Let’s work on the hugs. Put your arms all the way around my waist and give it a nice squeeze.” She snorted against my chest, but I felt her arms wrap around me fully. In hindsight, I should have thought it through a little better. Once she put some effort into the hug, her breasts—that I knew all too well were perfect—were smashed against my stomach, her whole body aligning with mine and making me realize we were alone in the dark, clinging to each other like two desperate people needing something to hold on to.
“That’s much better, don’t you think?” My voice came out as a whisper, her ear right by my mouth as I leaned down to bury my nose in her hair. She’d worn it down yesterday and I’d done everything I could to keep my hands from reaching out and grabbing a handful of her thick hair.
Satisfaction of a primal kind hit me square in the gut when her voice came out just as hushed, just as wobbly. “We’re breaking rule number five.”
“I’ve never been one to follow a ton of rules,” I whispered back.
She digested that and fired back, “But why are you always hugging me?”
“You just look like you could use one. Or several.”
She inhaled quickly and I worried again that I pushed too hard. But she stayed. The silence grew out as we stayed locked together, neither of us wanting to end this hug.
Who would have thought a tiny Spanish woman with
a sharp tongue and sweet lips would fit perfectly in my arms?
7
Elle
I could barely keep my eyes open in makeup that morning after Austin and I took the first flight out back to Burbank. Perhaps if I’d been able to go to sleep at a decent hour the night before, I wouldn’t be apologizing to the makeup artist for the several layers of concealer she had to apply to the dark circles under my eyes.
My mind had raced for hours after Austin and I had said good night and gone our separate ways to our hotel rooms. I couldn’t admit it to him—mierda, I could barely admit it to myself—but I had been jealous of his quick and easy friendship with Chef Cristoff. How was he able to make such an instant connection? I’d known Austin a few days longer and here we were bumbling around each other with fights, apologies, and awkward hugs in dark parking lots.
And that’s the other thing. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d gotten undressed in front of me and then pulled me into several hugs, whispering sweet things, and completely getting past my defenses.
When he ripped his T-shirt off in the car, I thought I might combust right there on the spot. The man was ripped. I could always tell he was a large guy, what with his T-shirts straining the seams of his sleeves. But to see all that muscle up close and personal gave me hot flashes and intense dreams of more hugs, this time without his shirt between us.
Don’t even get me started on the hugs. Who needs hug practice? Hugs were pretty simple, but apparently Austin felt like I didn’t give good ones. Which was plain insulting. Although, I hadn’t minded the practice...
I shook my head, trying to dislodge these crazy thoughts, but only succeeding in irritating the makeup artist trying to make me look like a well-rested human for today’s taping with her magic brushes and powders.
The second challenge would be filmed this afternoon and I was nervous for Austin. Shallow as it may be, originally, I only wanted to help him because, if he lost, it would reflect poorly on me. But now he had to win because I knew what a nice guy he was. He was the underdog, having no professional training to get him this far. That amount of natural talent deserved to stay on this show longer and soak up the training he would receive. Plus, I knew if he left the show now, he couldn’t afford classes and it would be a shame to waste such talent.
