by Abby Knox
GiGi narrowed her eyes at Vann. “Why, so I can put my name on a bag of frozen appetizers that resemble nothing about what I do and earn a paycheck? No thanks.”
“Fair point,” he said. “When am I going to get something special from the famous GiGi’s Café?”
GiGi eyed him suspiciously. “Ash tell you about my restaurant?”
Vann tried to look mock offended. “He didn’t need to. I saw that article about you in Food & Wine. I knew who you were as soon as I saw you.”
GiGi rolled her eyes. “It was a blurb at best.”
“I was in love the second I saw the photo.”
“Listen, Buster, that was a photo of the shrimp and grits.”
Vann had his witty rejoinder already chambered, but something stopped him in his tracks.
Buster. She’d called him Buster.
And that voice. And those eyes.
He suddenly knew why she seemed so familiar.
He had eaten her food before, but not as a guest. He’d eaten it from the back alley, right out of her delectable, lickable fingers.
Now wasn’t the time to reveal to her who he was, though. “There’s no quicker way to my heart than shrimp and grits. I knew I was gonna marry you on the spot. And I was right, your food is incredible.”
He could be mistaken, but he distinctly smelled something. Arousal. And heard the increase in her heart rate.
“Listen. I can’t just let you waltz into my restaurant; my entire wait staff has the hots for you.”
He blushed. Oh God, was he really blushing?
“Well, I’m only interested in one woman while I’m here. And I don’t do one-night stands, despite what you heard.”
“But you date a lot,” she countered.
“Sure,” he answered. “How else am I supposed to find my mate?”
“Oh my God. You’re one of them,” she said, a look of fright mixed with fascination breaking over her face. “You’re Ash’s friend, after all. I should have guessed. You’re one of the wolf shifters.”
May as well own up. “Yeah? And?”
She chuckled. “Look, it’s all fine and good that Ash and Rosemary are getting married, but I can’t have a relationship with a wolf too.”
Vann smirked and wolfed down the rest of his food on his tiny cocktail plate. “Why? Uncle Lionel have a hold on you too? Holding some money over your head or something?”
“No,” she said, sounding a little too defensive.
“Then what are you waiting for? Take a chance, have some fun. And for God’s sake, hire a manager.”
GiGi drew back. “How do you know I don’t have a manager?”
Fortunately, Vann didn’t have to answer that, as Rosemary came to drag GiGi away to talk about the cake.
That was okay. He had a lock on her scent, and she was never going to be too far away from him now. He could wait a minute to ask her out. Or he could whisk her off to his den right now and show her what he could do for her.
But GiGi seemed to prefer to be civilized, and he would do whatever it took to bring her to him willingly.
Chapter Six
GiGi
What an annoying man. What a self-centered, egotistical, tall, friendly, charming brute of a man.
Eating my food and eyeballing me at the same time, making it look like…well, making eating look like sex. Who does that? Who undresses a person while they’re eating? That’s just…weird. Right?
All these thoughts took up real estate in GiGi’s head all the next day after the engagement party. She was annoyed by this too. She was tired, always tired, but she still had a small crowd to feed every day at the café. She needed to focus.
Before the crew arrived to prep for lunch the next morning, GiGi seated herself at the kitchen stool and enjoyed the quiet time. She downed her coffee, put that giant flaxen-haired chef out of her mind, and mapped out the plan for the wedding cake.
Both Ash and Rosemary had agreed they should let GiGi brainstorm ideas on her own, and then meet with them next week to tweak those ideas.
With a Sharpie and a roll of deli paper, GiGi went at it. She didn’t know why she liked to draw out her pastry ideas this way. She worked for hours until the kitchen crew arrived, bustling around her, getting ready to open for lunch.
By the time she had finished and looked up, she realized the restaurant was open, diners were being served, orders were coming in and going out. All without her constant attention. This stirred up a feeling in her that Vann was right. She didn’t need to be on top of everything all the time. Maybe she had created a well-oiled machine. Or well enough oiled that she could look away for a few minutes.
As it was, she’d been in the flow of creativity for two hours, and now she had a complete sketch of the wedding cake. She was inspired and excited to add more detail and get started on it.
GiGi had sketched out a scene on Bourbon Street, with the street and buildings made of cake, and a little parade down the middle with molded gilt chocolate people that resembled musicians and the famous parade chiefs. At the end of the parade would be the bride and groom, tiny representations of Rosemary and Ash, if she could manage that much detail. GiGi tapped her Sharpie to her lip when thinking about the things that would put it over the top. There should be the iron balcony railings made out of sugar-work. Ivy and floral vines draping down from the balconies. That would be tough, but GiGi was an expert flower sculptor.
As she looked up to gaze out the pass-through kitchen window and out the plate glass that fronted the busy street, who should walk up to the door but Thor himself.
Not the actual Avenger, of course, but Vann and his flowing golden locks. And then he was stopping. Oh shit. And then he was looking through the glass, shielding the glare of the afternoon sun from his eyes with his hands. Already, she could feel the intensity, sense the pheromones. How was a wolf so powerful?
Shit, shit, shit. She had a mind to dart into the office at the sight of him, but it was too late. He was coming in.
She should let the hostess seat him, but her feet had other ideas. And other parts of her. Dammit. “Table for one?” she asked, grabbing a menu.
“Hi,” he said, smiling broadly at her. Damn him and those amazing white teeth and shocking blue eyes.
“Hi?” she answered, swallowing as her mouth went dry.
“I have a proposal for you,” he said.
She blushed and grinned, admonishing herself for letting him see how he was getting to her. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think? We haven’t even been on a date yet,” she joked, working hard to keep it together while the ultra-masculine scent made parts of her tingle. Parts of her that had no business tingling in the middle of a workday.
“Have lunch with me outside,” he said. It wasn’t a request. It was a command. GiGi didn’t particularly enjoy demands. Her rational brain hated it when men made demands. Her body, and the feisty, bratty kitty cat inside, saw it as a challenge and responded to it with a heat that rushed through her bloodstream.
She chose logic as a way to resist, at first. “I’m working.”
Vann looked around the dining room and smirked. “Looks like they have it handled, Peaches. And I need to talk to you.”
That was it. She pressed a palm to his chest and made to push him outside. She couldn’t have her staff hearing a world-famous superstar chef calling her “Peaches.”
“Outside,” she said, struggling against the brick house that was his entire stature. Good God, the man ate like a bear coming out of hibernation, how did he stay so firm? “Now.”
It was her flashing eyes that finally moved him, if not her brute strength from years of heavy lifting in the kitchen and the pantry.
“I feel like an asshole for stealing the catering job out from under you,” Vann started once they were seated. “I know that would mean a huge payday for you. So how about I contract with your people. I pay them what I pay my people, I pay you what I pay my executive chefs. You won’t even have to do any work; y
ou could just be a consultant for this gig.”
The young server brought the two of them iced teas and breadsticks. GiGi picked one of the sticks up and chewed on it and on what Vann had just said. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Having the upper hand.”
“Not at all. I came here to extend an olive branch. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, and I don’t want there to be awkwardness between us.”
No awkwardness, huh? The only thing that existed between them was a virile sexual tension which was constantly undercut by his patronizing tone. He did not mean to come across that way. She understood he meant well. But his cringe-worthy self-expression just translated to extreme awkwardness that mingled with this wild attraction she couldn’t control.
She looked him over. His hair was down, brazenly flowing over his giant biceps like he knew exactly how good he looked. His black T-shirt was too tight to be legal. And then there was that bad-boy grin on him. Not fair. She didn’t want to like him, but she did. She needed to save him from himself; the only way to not resent him was to set him free from what he perceived to be an obligation. He was trying to assuage his guilt, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want a pity assignment.
“You can keep the menu. I’ll handle the cake. Like we agreed last night. Frankly, I’m relieved that it’s all I have to focus on, so maybe then I can try to enjoy myself a little. It is my best friend’s wedding, after all.”
Vann studied her; she felt his eyes roaming over her face and her hair. He was sniffing the air. GiGi knew he sensed her arousal battling it out with her apprehension about being around a celebrity.
He finally cleared his throat. “Okay, great. If that’s the way you feel,” he said.
GiGi nodded. “It is. And anyway, I wouldn’t want anybody else’s staff working on the cake.”
He replied, “You don’t trust me?”
She finally had to let the whole truth come out. The entire reason why his mere presence made her roll her eyes, no matter how good looking, or virile, or into her he seemed to be. “I heard what you said on that Foodie Network contest. During the pastry challenge, you said something about baking and desserts are for the lightweights and for people who can’t handle the intensity of a kitchen.”
Vann looked genuinely surprised. “Did I say that?”
GiGi didn’t acknowledge the question. It was a silly question, and he knew what he’d said. “If you don’t love dessert, I don’t want you or any of your people touching a wedding cake. That’s bad juju in the cake.”
Vann sat back in his chair. “That comment was out of context. The producers try to provoke the contestants to talk shit on each other, and sometimes we said stuff we didn’t mean. I said a lot of nice things too. Most of those never made it onto the show.”
The staring contest that ensued threatened to end in an argument or passionate kissing. GiGi couldn’t decide which, but she didn’t have to decide, as their sandwiches arrived to break the tension.
“Fair enough,” she sighed. “Let’s eat. I’m always less crabby after I eat.”
Vann laughed. “Me too.”
After they’d eaten, and her mood had improved markedly, Vann did what GiGi had suspected all along he had come to do.
“Yeah, actually. I came here also to ask you on a date.”
A date. How long had it been since she’d been on a proper date? She was a practical person and wasn’t about to turn down a free meal or an official request. If he wanted a date, then she did, too.
“Sunday. We close after brunch. My days off are Monday and Tuesday, in case you’ve forgotten what restaurant workers’ schedules are like,” she said with a wink.
Vann hooded his eyes. He was pleased with himself and turned on. She could practically smell it. “I’ll pick you up Sunday afternoon after the brunch rush. And wear something sexy. I want you out of those work clothes,” he said, scanning her crew shoes, black pants, and ratty chef coat.
GiGi replied, “I don’t own anything sexy, so I’ll just have to show up naked under a trench coat if that’s all right with you.”
“Suits me fine. I’ll supply the whipped cream.”
“Better be homemade and made with love, TV Man.”
GiGi had no time to go shopping between Friday and Sunday, so Rosemary came to GiGi’s Cafe Sunday afternoon with an armload of garment bags and dragged her from the kitchen into her private office.
Rosemary unzipped one bag, holding up a light blue body-contouring dress with spaghetti straps. The way it hung on the hanger, it looked more like a slip than a full garment.
“It’s awfully revealing,” GiGi said.
“GiGi, it covers all the important bits. Plus, I have a feeling that dress ain’t staying on your body for long.” Rosemary shot GiGi a wicked smile.
“Rosie! You are nothing but trouble!” GiGi said, feigning scandal.
“Says you and everybody’s mama between here and Shreveport. Now put it on and let’s see what we got,” Rosemary said. “I am over-the-moon excited for you to be going on a date, let alone with a celebrity!”
The dress hugged her curves like nothing else she could ever remember wearing. Not that she’d worn anything more flattering than a ratty chef’s uniform in years. She seldom splurged on herself. Cute dresses, shoes, makeovers, and traveling were all things that would come with time. Her life was all about building her business and any extra money went right into the restaurant.
But then again, maybe she deserved a treat now and then. Wearing one of Rosemary’s expensive designer dresses, GiGi felt … different. Feminine. Looking down and noticing how it clung to her curves, she felt — dare she admit it — sexy, even.
Rosemary’s eyes gleamed when she took in the vision of her cousin. “Your tits fill that thing out way better than mine ever did. It’s yours.”
GiGi protested. “I wouldn’t even know how to wash this thing,” she said, smoothing her hands down and over her hips, unable to keep from smiling at the way the dress hugged her there.
Rosemary chortled. “No, honey. It’s dry clean only. Listen, don’t even worry about it; it’s not gonna matter. I guarantee that blonde giant of yours is going to destroy that dress by the end of the night.
“Rosie!” GiGi shrieked, blushing deeply.
“I’m serious,” Rosemary insisted. “And if he doesn’t, I’ll call the police because that would be a high crime. Now sit down and let me do your eye makeup.”
GiGi rolled her eyes but did as instructed. Rosemary continued to cluck at her as she made over GiGi’s face with a brow pencil, shadow, eyeliner, and mascara.
“Girl, will you hold still, I’m ‘bout to stab you in the eyeball with this thing.”
“Sorry, Rosie,” GiGi said.
“So, listen,” Rosemary said, “There are things you need to know about Vann.”
GiGi chuckled. “Doesn’t everyone in the world already know everything about him? His re-runs are never not showing on the Foodie Network.”
“Well, it’s personal stuff. It’s not a big deal, and he should tell you himself. He’s not a one-night stand kind of guy. He’s a lot like my Ash.”
GiGi blinked. “Who is having a one-night stand? It’s our first date, we barely know each other, so why not let things unfold naturally?”
Rosemary looked concerned. “I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea. If he tries to bed you, it’s a big deal. He’s one of the wolfpack, you know.”
“I’m aware of that. I can’t imagine what could be left to hide between either of us. Sex is a huge deal for me, too. Which is why it’s not happening tonight, no matter the powers wielded by this almighty dress of yours. What you and Ash have is different. You were made for each other; a whirlwind romance suits the two of you. I just want to go out and have some fun, get to know a person.”
Rosemary rested a hand on her hip and stepped back. “Are you telling me that Ash and I barely know each other?”
GiGi realized what she’d said. “No, th
at’s not what I meant. Oh, God. I’m sorry. I just meant I’m a more careful person.”
“Keep digging, sister,” Rosemary said, returning to her duties of penciling in a perfect eyebrow on GiGi.
“I should stop talking,” GiGi said, cringing.
Rosemary shook her head like she was blowing off the accidental string of insults. “It’s fine. I get it. It’s hard to wrap your head around it when two people who were meant to be together, just go for it. Just don’t be surprised if it happens for you too.”
GiGi swallowed and looked at her face in a compact mirror. She was pretty. Rosemary somehow made her look not tired, which was GiGi’s default setting.
“Okay. I hear you. But listen, dating is supposed to be fun; you’re making it so intense. I always thought you were the fun cousin.”
Rosemary playfully slapped her on the knee. “And don’t you forget it! I’m just beating around the bush, and I’m sorry. Maybe I should just go ahead and tell you.”
“Tell me what?” GiGi asked, eyes bugging at her cousin and best friend.
But before GiGi could get an answer, the blue-eyed, blond-haired massive rock star chef was darkening the door of her office.
Chapter Seven
Vann
“Tell her what?”
Vann had overheard a part of the women’s conversation as he strode toward the office, where he’d found the two ladies hovered over GiGi’s desk, which was covered in an array of makeup. He said those words at the same time as GiGi was saying hers. The difference was, Vann already knew the answer.
“Vann!” GiGi said, noticing him in the doorway. There was that sweet smile of hers, now slightly dolled up with tinted lip gloss. He loved that face of hers bare, but she was just as lovely with a little makeup.
“Maybe I’ll leave that to you, now that you’re here,” Rosemary said. “You have my blessing.”
