Cooking with Fire

by Kira Barcelo

  She raised her chin. “That won’t happen. I’m going to be giving you my personal best, too. And I’ll be doing non-stop work.”

  “Well, good.” To her chagrin, Alex chuckled. “That should keep your cute little butt outta trouble for a while.”

  Chapter Four

  There was a black cloud hanging over that kitchen. It hadn’t been there earlier, either. Alex recalled that when he’d whipped up dishes from the new menu for Carolyn and the staff to sample, things couldn’t have gone smoother. There was an excitement and hopefulness that he suspected hadn’t been at the Beachcomber Bistro in a long time. But now there was a powerful storm about to make landfall.

  And her name was Hurricane Marta.

  He looked on as Hailey returned one of the orders that had gone out only a few minutes ago. After being told the meat was overcooked, the executive chef tossed the plate back hard on the counter, startling the waitress and almost shattering the plate.

  “Medium-well, that’s what they said,” Marta snapped. “That’s what I gave them. Stupid asses.”

  Alex stood at a distance that allowed him to observe the interaction without being in the staff’s faces. Nobody had time for petty arguments; a 4th of July celebration in the seaside town had brought in a rare flurry of customers. Yet there was the impossible chef, taking her frustrations out on the young waitress.

  “The customer doesn’t want it,” Hailey patiently explained. “She says it’s tough and you cooked all the juices out of it.”

  “Yeah, I guess she’s the chef now. Stupid ass. So, fine. But now that whiner is going to have to wait because I’m doing something else. You’re out there, Hailey, you’re not in here dealing with this.”

  That remark, and seeing the waitress shirk back, clearly intimidated, drew him closer. Leaning over the counter, Alex narrowed his eyes at her and asked, “Dealing with what?”

  Marta’s lower lip trembled. He hoped she wasn’t going to bawl right then and there. That’d slow them down to a veritable crawl. “Nothing. I’m busy.”

  That excuse—and the executive chef seemed to have a vast supply of those—wasn’t good enough for Alex.

  “That customer waited long enough to get her order, and it’s overcooked,” he said. “Cook another steak medium-well and send it out to her. ASAP. Let’s go, Marta. It’s steak. It’s not rocket science.”

  One, two, three, four, five… Alex decided he would be counting to ten until they closed down the kitchen for the night. Neither Rhonda Neely nor Orestes Rosales skipped a beat, working on orders at a good pace.

  But there was Marta, now standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at the returned steak order. Just staring at it, a dish rag in her other hand, her eyes welling up.

  “Marta, what the hell are you doing?” Alex barked at her. “You’re not gonna fix it by staring at it!”

  The woman glared back at him. “You’re making me nervous! I can’t even think!”

  “You’re making her nervous, Alex,” Carolyn scolded, stepping up from behind him. “Just give her a few minutes.”

  He shook his head in frustration. “Give her a few minutes? Carolyn, she’s freezing up. She’s got more than three people out in that dining room tonight, and she can’t handle it.”

  “I need fresh air,” Marta piped up then.

  He whipped his head around. “You need—what?”

  “Fresh air. I need a break. I have a headache.”

  Beside her, Rhonda’s eyes widened. Alex was incredulous.

  “You’re taking a break?” His voice rose an octave. “See anybody else taking a break right now? Marta, what about the customer with the steak order?”

  Alex reined in his temper, watching the woman turn and walk out the kitchen’s rear door, completely ignoring him. The other two chefs said nothing, both working to pick up Marta’s slack. He waved a hand at her and addressed Carolyn.

  “See that? She just walked out. She created this mess and then she walked out,” he said.

  Equally frustrated, Carolyn sighed. “You know, Alex, some people can’t handle stress well. Marta’s just one of those people. You’re yelling at her and you’re expecting a lot from her and she’s getting stressed out.”

  “Aw, man. Are you her boss or her therapist?” he demanded. “Un-freakin’-believable.”

  “I’m her boss. And don’t you speak to me like that, Alex. Especially not in front of our staff.”

  He opened his mouth to speak but stopped. Earlier, there was no other way to put it: He’d shown off in front of Carolyn. Alex had poured his heart into creating the recipes he and Carolyn had worked on together. Classic recipes, though with a modern zing. American classics, like what had originally been served there in her childhood, but with new ideas that had jazzed up those dishes. Everything he’d set before her, she’d loved and raved about, and most importantly, she’d been proud of him.

  And he’d loved every moment of it.

  Now his stubborn streak and his temper, and especially the fact that he was a perfectionist, were driving a wedge between him and Carolyn.

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disrespect you,” he apologized. When her eyes widened, he raised his voice before remembering to lower it. “What? For your information, I can admit when I’m wrong. But I’m not wrong about Marta, Carolyn.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I’ll go talk to her.”

  “You go fire her.” Guiding her gently by the arm, he steered her out of Orestes’ and Rhonda’s way and lowered his voice. “She’s not a team player, Carolyn. She doesn’t have your best interests at heart. I think you know that, deep down. Everybody else is on board with you, they all have your back. And it goes without saying that includes me. Everybody’s on your side…except for Marta.”

  “I’ll talk to her!” she snapped, starting out of the kitchen before leaning in closer to him and whispering, “I was a secretary before we bought this place. I’ve never fired anybody in my life.”

  Alex started to encourage her, but in her frustration she’d walked away from him. He called after her and became even more miffed when she ignored him and continued out the kitchen’s rear door.

  The restaurant. That was his main priority. It was turning out to be a rocky evening with Carolyn. In that case, his best bet was just to focus on his work. He had to concentrate on the kitchen. Because that was what he did best, what had changed his life during his youth. The one thing that had given him purpose during one of the darker times in his life.

  Hailey looked nervous as she approached him with another plate. He shook his head and spoke gently to her.

  “Oh, geez—no good, ma’am?”

  “No. The lady said it was cold in the middle.” Hesitating, the waitress said, “But this was Orestes, not Marta.”

  “Orestes now? Aw, come on! What are we doing here?” Seeing Jamie approach, he demanded, “Now what?”

  The head waiter looked slightly taken aback. “There’s a lady out there, Alex. She says she’s a friend of yours. Pam Berryhill? I think that’s her name.”

  “Pam?” Though he appreciated his old girlfriend keeping her word and giving his new restaurant some business, he couldn’t help but be somewhat suspicious about her motives. And her little visit was sure not to go over well with Carolyn, who had either taken a dislike to his old flame…or she’d been jealous.

  “Thanks, Jamie. I’ll go out there for a few minutes to see her,” he said, giving the remaining chefs a final glance. “But only a few minutes…”

  * * *

  Alex had made it sound so easy. Two little words: Fire her. It was hard for Carolyn to believe she was even contemplating doing just that, and she’d gone to the alley behind the restaurant in hopes that she could talk sense into Marta DeLong.

  Her executive chef didn’t have a family depending on her, but she was a woman who lived alone and sustained herself. Carolyn couldn’t just give her walking papers and send her away. Especially because Ma
rta had been with her since the beginning. She was the first employee she’d hired. In fact, the only one her brother had hired was Orestes Rosales. She and Cliff had been lucky in that, over time, their staff had been more than just employees to them. They’d become an extended family.

  Yet the more she talked to Marta, the more disappointed she grew in her. For the first time since she’d worked for her, Marta had been confrontational with her. Probably because the chef was no longer getting her own way. And her questions were sounding more like accusations. Why hadn’t Carolyn given the staff warning that her brother was selling his half of the restaurant? Why wasn’t she defending her more to her impossible-to-please business partner? Why had they changed the menu when it was perfectly fine the way it was?

  And a dozen other questions that whittled down Carolyn’s patience. She didn’t know exactly what had happened or what was said, but she recalled saying the words that had made Marta’s face go pale immediately.

  I think it’s best that we part ways, Marta. I’m sorry, but that’s the way it has to be.

  She returned to the kitchen, which now seemed larger with one less person, even if the person who was missing was smaller in stature and weight than she was. The one saving grace was that the kitchen looked less hectic than when she’d stepped out. Both Rhonda and Orestes seemed to have settled into the rhythm of the kitchen—either that, or the flow of customers had slowed down—and the orders were coming in and going out at a good clip.

  “Where’s Alex?” she asked Hailey, who’d come in for her orders.

  “He’s outside talking to that lady, Pam,” the young girl reported and hurried out with two plates.

  Pam? That woman, the brunette he’d almost married, was there?

  Carolyn waited until she was certain the chefs were preoccupied. Then, heading for the door, she peered out at the dining room.

  She’s here because she wants him back. She appeared to be there by herself, so she must have been available again. By the way he was standing and smiling down at her, he was a man who wanted to be taken back, too.

  What a night this was turning out to be. First the Beachcomber Bistro was proving it couldn’t handle a healthy stream of business flowing into it. Then she had to fire her longtime executive chef. And now she was finding out that whatever she’d been feeling when she was around Alex, and his flirtation and that kiss they’d shared, and even during that painful spanking he’d given her, nothing really mattered.

  Because in the end, she was his business partner. His head was reserved for her; his heart, that she couldn’t touch.

  “Rhonda!” she called out. “Rhonda!”

  “Yes, Carolyn?” The chef stopped to look up from some vegetables she was sautéing.

  “Alex is here. He’ll take care of things.” He was, after all, co-owner of the restaurant. The restaurant that had been a horrendous mistake. Hastily, she grabbed her purse. “I’m going to the beach. I need to go for a walk. Oh, forget that—I’m going out for a drink.”

  Alex wasn’t going to like that. If he’d even notice she was gone. Her raw nerves gave way to a fit of temper, materializing when she got into her car and slammed the door closed with all her might.

  He could have the whole restaurant if he wanted. It was all his and he could do as he pleased. The mortgage company could take her house, too. At that moment, none of it mattered to her anymore. That night, all she wanted to do was what she was especially good at: hiding.

  * * *

  It had begun to rain by the time Alex saw Carolyn’s car pulling into the carport. He’d been sitting on one of the rockers on the porch with his feet up on the railing for what seemed like hours, waiting for the wayward little runaway to return home. He stood as he watched her making her way to the porch, her keys in hand and a wary expression on her face.

  “I guess you’re mad at me, huh?” she asked as she came up the steps.

  “Mad at you? Why? Just because you stepped out on me tonight?” he asked calmly. “Because you left me with all those customers and two chefs who were freaking out because they had a new menu and more clientele than they’re used to getting in one night? Why would I get upset with you over that?”

  “You could’ve just asked your pretty girlfriend for some help. She’d probably be just as good as I am at running that damn place. Maybe even better.”

  Alex bit back a retort. He would’ve been lying if he’d said her jealousy wasn’t flattering, but enough was enough. “She’s not my girlfriend, Carolyn. She hasn’t been my girlfriend for a long time.”

  “I don’t care whether she is or she isn’t!” She turned and almost lost her footing. “All you are to me is a business partner, too. That’s what our relationship is. Just business.”

  He frowned at her. “Young lady, have you been drinking?”

  “Oh, for—you make it sound like I polished off a whole bottle of Jack Daniels or something. I just had a couple drinks. That’s all.”

  “And then you got behind the wheel?”

  “I’m fine. I’m a big girl.” She fumbled with the keys and dropped them. “I’ve had a very bad night. Ah, shit—I’ve had a very bad year.”

  She bent over to retrieve the keys. Her juicy bottom filled that figure-hugging skirt in a way that aroused him with lightning speed. If she hadn’t completely driven him crazy with worry and concern that night, he would’ve taken full advantage of that tipsy little imp, too. He was aware of the bulge growing in the front of his pants.

  But he hadn’t gone to her house with that purpose. He’d waited for a couple of hours, finally letting Rhonda lock up so that he could head for Carolyn’s place and wait for her. He was bound and determined that she wasn’t going to bed peacefully after the stunt she’d pulled that night.

  She had the keys, but before she could straighten up, he gave her bottom a couple of pats.

  Carolyn caught the gist of his gesture. Standing, she looked at him over her shoulder.

  “Did you spank her, too?” she asked.

  “I guess we’re talking about Pam? Yeah, I did, when we were together. We’re not anymore. Let’s get this straight right now, Carolyn. Pam means nothing to me. She was nice and came to the restaurant. Our restaurant. She might’ve had another motive, but I don’t. And just because you’re jealous, that’s not a license for you to skip out on your responsibilities.”

  “I’m not jealous. And I can do whatever I want. I’m the boss. For now.”

  “For now? What does that mean?”

  She finally opened the door. A couple of drinks? She’d told him in conversation that she didn’t drink very often, but it had taken more than two to get her to zigzag across that floor that way. Had a cop stopped her, she would’ve been in big trouble for sure.

  As it stood, she was in enough trouble now…with Alex.

  “I mean you can buy me out, too. Like you bought out Cliff.” In the living room, she kicked off her shoes and faced him. Her hair had gotten mussed, giving her a sort of wild child look. “Because I really, really am not cut out for this. I had no business thinking I could run a restaurant. You can buy me out or I’ll walk out of the deal. I’m just…” She waved a hand in the air in a circular pattern. “Walking.”

  He softened a bit towards her. “You’re scared. You’re like a scared little girl. That’s why you hide.”

  “I hide because I’m the boss of me. You’re not my boss.” He had to bite back the urge to laugh. Carolyn hiccoughed and waved a finger in the air. “You’re so good at bossing around everybody. You’re like a drill sergeant in that kitchen. But you’re not pushing me around.”

  “No, I’m not. You’re right.” He tilted his head to the side. “I’ve been scared, too. I didn’t have much of a childhood. My mom died when I was little and my dad was more interested in his new family. I didn’t have any kind of stability until my uncle took me in. And he let me work in his restaurant. But I’ve been scared. And I didn’t run. You’re not running, either, if I have anything t
o say about it.”

  He noticed that Carolyn swallowed hard, yet she remained headstrong. “We can talk about all this tomorrow.”

  “No, we’re talking about all this now. You were calling the shots before, cowgirl. You ran out on me. I was there for you. Maybe I don’t always agree with you, but I wouldn’t leave you alone like that. And you walked out on your staff that needed you. And now we can add getting behind the wheel of a car after you’ve had too much to drink. I think that calls for an emergency meeting…”

  Alex turned her around, wrapped an arm around her waist, and lifted her clearly off her feet. Stunned at first, she squealed and kicked her legs.

  “You let me go! Alex—let me go! Oh—where are we going?”

  “Back to the porch. I forgot something there.”

  “You for—oh, no!”

  He had just gotten the paddle, which he’d brought out from the car and left beside the rocker, when the little minx managed to wriggle out of his hold. Unfortunately for her, she was still feeling the effects of the drinks she’d downed that night and ran back into the house just to stumble.

  Alex couldn’t help but laugh. Conveniently, she’d landed face down across the ottoman. He sat himself on the coffee table, grabbed hold of her waist, and shifted her further over the piece of furniture so that her bottom was higher in the air. He laid the paddle across her backside, satisfied when he heard that startled little gasp from her.

  “You know, I have a confession to make,” he began. “Your brother, when he offered me his half of the restaurant, he warned me that I’d have problems with you. He told me that you were irresponsible and you weren’t taking the business seriously enough. I told him that we’d be fine. That all you needed was a firm hand. I told him I’d take you under my wing, teach you everything you needed to know, and that I wouldn’t let you get away with that stuff you pulled with him.”