Fire Me Up

by Kimberly Kincaid

  This street fair had to work. He couldn’t leave Teagan in danger.

  “Hey, slick. How’s the coleslaw coming?” Adrian moved through the Double Shot’s kitchen, claiming his spot next to Jesse at the prep station beside the grill.

  “Good, I think.” Jesse reached past the scattering of ingredients on his cutting board, snapping up a tasting fork from the plastic container at his station. Scooping up a healthy bite of the dish in question, he handed over the fork with the same quiet efficiency he gave to all his kitchen tasks, and no way could Adrian deny that the guy had come a long way from washing dishes in the last three weeks.

  Especially after he tasted the coleslaw.

  “Damn, Jesse. That’s a whole lot better than good.” Adrian savored the creamy tang of the just-right flavors before heading over to the warmer. With careful motions, he plated two pulled pork slider sandwiches in the paper-lined red plastic basket in front of him, adding a ramekin of the freshly made coleslaw and a decent handful of seasoned fries before looking up at Jesse with a now-or-never exhale.

  “You think she’s going to like it?” Jesse asked, his eyes flicking to the counter with an even measure of uncertainty and hope, and Adrian slid the basket from the prep station as he set his sights on the swinging door.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  He edged into the dining room with Jesse following hot on his heels, and suddenly, his pulse kicked a brand-new batch of get-up-and-go through his veins.

  “You two look like you’re up to no good.” Teagan pushed back from her go-to spot at the end of the Double Shot’s bar, late-morning sunlight scattering patterns across the hardwood floor behind her. She brushed a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, splitting a suspicious glance between him and Jesse. Her eyes crinkled at the weight of the smile on her lips, though, and damn. Adrian felt that smile from his baseball hat to his boots.

  “That sounds about right,” he said, depositing the basket on the polished bar top at her side.

  Both amber brows rose. “What’s this?”

  “Lunch.”

  Teagan’s laugh popped out, and man, he thought he’d felt her smile everywhere. “Adrian, it’s ten forty-five in the morning. I know I usually skip lunch, but this is a hell of a preemptive strike, don’t you think?”

  “Humor me.”

  Anticipation swirled in Adrian’s gut as she lifted one of the slider sandwiches from the basket and took a big inhale. Her eyes sent an appreciative flick over the buttery-gold roll and the honey-brown pulled pork spilling out from the edges, but the small taste she took was merely polite.

  Until about two chews in.

  Teagan’s lashes arced upward, framing the surprise in her eyes with a coppery fringe. Her spine went ruler-straight against the back of her bar stool, and she took another bite, then a third in rapid succession to polish off the tiny sandwich completely.

  “I swear on my eyes, this has got to be the main course in heaven every single night.”

  “You like it?” Jesse asked, his voice tinged with hope and a healthy dash of pride.

  Teagan leaned over the bar to grab a utensil roll from the caddy at the drink station, plucking the fork from within to dig into the coleslaw. “Like it?” she mumbled, scooping up another bite before continuing. “It’s going to take all my restraint not to lick the liner in the basket. And, oh my God, this coleslaw is insane.”

  At that, Adrian chuffed out a laugh. “Take that as a yes, slick.”

  “Hell, yes, it’s a yes!” she crowed. “If we serve this at the street fair, everyone will come back for seconds—no, thirds. Please, please, for the love of all things sacred and holy, tell me you two can make this happen next Saturday within budget.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Adrian said, trying on his best this-is-iffy expression. “It might be kind of tough. What do you think, Jesse? Can we make this happen at cost for the street fair?”

  “Nope.” Jesse slid a hand over his close-cropped high and tight, but his goofy grin put him in the same basket as Adrian in the truth-telling department.

  “You guys,” Teagan said, but the warning faded in her throat as Adrian planted his palms over the gleaming stretch of mahogany directly across from her.

  “Jesse knows a guy who knows a guy who agreed to rent us the smokers dirt cheap, and I cashed in a couple favors with one of the distributors at the resort.” He leaned in to peg her with a smile that came up right from his bones.

  “Which puts us in just under cost. So yes, Red. We’re a go for the street fair. The menu’s set and all orders have been placed and confirmed.”

  “You finalized the entire menu? Without asking me?”

  For a second that felt like the rough equivalent of ten, Teagan said nothing, and oh shit, maybe he’d pissed her off. They’d talked about keeping the menu streamlined to stay within budget, and doing one main dish extremely well seemed better than offering three or four half-assed choices. Especially since they could use the smokers for both pork and chicken, and provide a variety of sides. It had been a no-brainer when Adrian had finalized the orders right before calling Big Ed. He’d wanted to surprise Teagan to ease her mind.

  But right in this moment, he just hoped she didn’t want to surprise him with her right hook.

  “I can’t believe you did that,” she said, her hands coming up to cover her mouth. Crap. Crap! He needed damage control, fast.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but we were running out of time, and Jesse and I put the recipes together kind of fast over the last day or so. I thought it would make things easier on you if I just took care of it, and—”

  Teagan cut off his words by grabbing the shoulders of his T-shirt and hauling him in for a long, hot kiss. “I love it. I love everything about it.”

  Adrian’s shock met his relief in a head-on collision. “You do?”

  “Except for the messing with me part, yeah,” she said wryly, not unwinding her fists from the gray cotton stretching over his shoulders. “This whole thing is totally coming together. You two are seriously incredible.”

  He brushed his mouth over hers, unable to hold back. “Incredible, huh?”

  “O-kay,” Jesse said, clearing his throat twice over a relieved laugh. “I’m going to go be incredible somewhere else. Like waaaaay in the back of the kitchen. I’m glad you like the menu, boss. I’ll see you guys, uh, later.”

  The soft thunk-thunk of the swinging door finding its way closed prompted a chuckle from Adrian’s throat, and Teagan pulled back to slide him a glance loaded with thought.

  “You’ve really taken Jesse under your wing. Brennan, too.”

  “Broken as it is,” Adrian flipped back, lifting his cast as he leaned against the service counter behind the bar. “Anyway, they’re both working their asses off. It’s way more them than me making this place go right now.”

  “Bullshit,” Teagan countered, although with more smile than sass. He should’ve figured she wouldn’t cage her thoughts. After all, being coy definitely wasn’t her bag. “We’re all making this place go right now. You included.”

  Adrian shrugged, but he couldn’t deny how good it felt not only to hear the words, but to know deep down that they were true. “I promised you I’d help.”

  She slid off her bar stool, turning the corner to walk behind the bar without taking her eyes from his. “I like your brand of help.”

  “Mmm. I like that you like it.” He folded her against his body, and the way she fit, snug and warm in all the right places, did nothing to keep his impulses in check. “You know, we’re ahead of schedule this morning, and Brennan’s going to be here any minute.” Adrian skimmed his tongue over the soft skin of her collarbone, smiling darkly at the goose bumps appearing in the wake of the movement. “We could take an early lunch.”

  Teagan’s laughter vibrated against his chest. “You are extremely bad.”

  “You like me that way,” he said, repeating the slow string of kisses in reverse.

 
“I do,” she sighed, barely a whisper. “I lo—”

  The heavy squeak of the front door moving on its hinges had Adrian pulling her in a protective jerk from the entryway, but he had zero armor against the soft gasp that accompanied the sound of the door.

  Because it belonged to Carly.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry.” Carly’s voice, familiar and yet rusty in Adrian’s mind, struck a direct bull’s-eye into the center of his chest. “I bumped into the bar manager in the parking lot, and he let me in. I got your message, but I shouldn’t have . . . I can just—”

  “Wait.” Teagan slipped around him, her eyes moving over Carly from her trademark dark French braid to the tiny yet definite swell of her belly that hadn’t been there even three weeks ago. “You must be Carly. Come in.”

  Surprise dominated Adrian’s chest as Teagan offered Carly the welcome that lay lodged beneath his sternum. He stood, completely frozen to the rubber mats behind the bar, with his pulse moving in a thousand directions, watching Teagan walk toward the spot where Carly appeared equally frozen by the door.

  “Teagan O’Malley. My dad owns the place.” She extended a hand, inviting Carly in with a nod of her head.

  “Carly di Matisse. Carter,” she added, her face flushing. “Sorry to, um, interrupt.”

  “Not at all. It’s nice to meet you,” Teagan said, swinging her gaze to Adrian. “I’m going to go help Jesse with prep so you two can catch up.”

  She threaded a quick glance between him and Carly, giving a tiny nod before slipping past the swinging door. The muffled clink of pots and pans being put to use filtered past the heavy silence in the dining room, and the sounds of the kitchen, coupled with the reassuring look in Teagan’s eyes as she left him to it, made him kick his feet into gear.

  Adrian might not know the right words to express his feelings, but he sure as hell needed to try.

  “I’m glad you came.” He rounded the bar, hooking his fingers beneath the back of one of the stools to flip it upright and turn it toward Carly. “You want to sit down?”

  “Sure.” She crossed the hardwood to settle herself at the bar, taking a quick visual inventory of the dining room before sending a longer gaze back in his direction. “You look really good.”

  “Thanks. But to be fair, the last time you saw me, I’d just gone ass over teakettle on Rural Route Four,” he reminded her, moving back behind the mahogany to pop the lid on the cooler beneath the bar. Grabbing a carton of orange juice, he poured her a glassful, the simple motions knocking his unease down yet another notch.

  Carly bit her lip. “No, I mean . . .” She fumbled to a stop, reeling back whatever she’d meant to say. “Look, you and I have never beat around the bush with things, so I’m just going to come out with it. I know you’re really mad at me for telling you to take time off, and maybe I shouldn’t have made assumptions about what you need. I didn’t mean to shut you out. But—”

  “I’m not mad at you.” The words shot from Adrian’s mouth, hitting his ears before they’d even registered in his brain, and Carly pulled back against her bar stool.

  “You’re not mad.” The words betrayed her disbelief, and okay, it was time to start manning up with the truth.

  “Well, I was mad. But I was also an idiot, because you were right.”

  “I’m sorry.” A shot of surprise streaked over her expression. “What did you say?”

  Adrian met her wide-eyed stare across the bar. “You were right. I needed some time off to figure out what was really important. I wasn’t living with no regrets. In fact, I wasn’t really living at all.”

  He might have hated every ounce of Carly’s six-weeks-no-exceptions mandate at the time, but the truth was, if she hadn’t put him on leave from La Dolce Vita, he wouldn’t have ended up here at the Double Shot, helping Teagan.

  And wasn’t hindsight just a bitch and a half?

  “I was worried,” she said, fiddling with the end of her braid over one shoulder. “And mad at you, too.” That got a tiny smile out of her. “But mostly just scared you’d lost track of who you are.”

  “You’ve always had my back, gnochella. You’re a better friend than I deserve.” Adrian straightened, stabbing his boots into the floorboards with purpose. “And I talked to Big Ed this morning. You don’t have to worry about him harassing you anymore.”

  Carly scoffed, but Adrian caught the relief beneath the gesture. “Yeah, he’s a peach. Can’t say I’ll miss him when your parole is up next month.”

  “You took a huge risk telling him you’d seen me and that I was fine.”

  “I know. Jackson already read me the riot act. But I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I didn’t lie to your parole officer, Adrian. I told him you were fine, and you are.” She paused, taking in the quiet hush of the Double Shot’s dining room. “But I should’ve known you wouldn’t stay out of the kitchen.”

  Carly’s smile was too bittersweet to hold any of the zing she’d likely wanted to pin to the gesture, and Adrian jumped to reassure her.

  “I know you meant for me to take time off to heal, but Teagan’s a paramedic, and I stuck to the doc’s orders. I’m not cooking. Well, not really. I’m still stuck with this thing.” He held up the arm trapped in its fiberglass stockade. “But the physical therapist says my shoulder is healing even better than she expected, so once the cast comes off in a couple of weeks, I should be good to go back and start cooking again.”

  Her dark brow popped. “You want to come back to La Dolce Vita?”

  For a brief flash of a second, both yes and I don’t know fought a turf war for Adrian’s response, and really? Was he losing his mind?

  “Of course I want to come back. I belong in the kitchen.”

  “Not to put too fine a point on it, but you’re in the kitchen now,” Carly said, and oh shit. He’d never considered that she’d think he didn’t want to come back to work.

  “I am. But me working here is temporary. Teagan needs the boost, and I’m on board with helping her. But she knows that once I’m clear, I’m not staying. Well, not in her kitchen, anyway.”

  “But you’re staying with her otherwise?” Rampant curiosity covered Carly’s face, and Adrian’s gut knotted in an all-too-familiar trip toward lockdown status.

  “Yeah.” He stretched the word all the way out before letting it go. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Carly nodded, taking a sip of her juice. She’d always sensed and respected his need for a wide berth with personal stuff, and his born-in survival instinct had always kept him from doing anything other than take it, carte blanche. When his nonna died. When he fell in love with Becca. When he lost control of everything around him and got arrested.

  But for the first time, Adrian didn’t want to stuff his feelings aside or pretend they weren’t real.

  He was tired of guarding who he was for fear of being rejected.

  “Move over,” he said, taking the handful of steps needed to eliminate the bar between them, and Carly sat up so fast, a healthy splash of orange juice sloshed over the rim of her pint glass and onto the napkin beneath.

  “Why?” she asked, but Adrian didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled down the bar stool next to hers, angling himself against the black leather cushion with a grin he hadn’t felt in far too long.

  “Because I want to get comfortable, that’s why. This is gonna take a while.”

  Teagan slung a blue and white kitchen towel over one shoulder, breathing in the spicy punch of chili powder and smoked paprika so deeply, she could feel the pop of flavors on her tongue.

  “Gotta hand it to you, Superman. I never thought of adding chili to the menu in the beginning of the summer, but this smells too good to pass up.”

  Adrian stepped in behind her, and the insinuation of his nearness alone sent Teagan’s pulse into a lather. “Throw a couple of seasonal vegetables into a dish, and you’d be shocked what you can get away with. Plus, it stays cool here in the mounta
ins until at least June, so this should go over well on the trial menu.”

  “Along with everything else,” she said over a laugh. “I swear I think each idea you’ve come up with over the last four days has tasted better than the last.”

  “Oh no, you don’t.” He pushed her ponytail over one shoulder of her dark red T-shirt, leaning in to watch her movements from where he stood. “You’re the one who cooked those dishes. All I did was advise.”

  Teagan gave a less than ladylike snort, melting into the hard, sturdy plane of Adrian’s chest with a smile and sigh combination that felt so freaking good, it should really be illegal. “The best you’re going to get out of me is that we’re even on this little endeavor. Take it or leave it.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Red.” His mouth brushed over the sensitive skin of her neck, his dark and sexy smile threaded all the way through his words. “But I’ll take it.”

  With a week and a half to go until the street fair and all the planning locked in place, she and Adrian had been able to take a look at some of the downward trends the Double Shot had spiraled through lately. Adrian’s suggestions for some subtle yet definite changes to the menu by testing new dishes as daily specials had generated several great ideas over the last few days—not to mention a lot of rave reviews from Brennan, Jesse, and the waitstaff as they taste-tested the recipes. With Adrian spearheading the concepts and Teagan channeling her energy into executing them just right, they’d come up with plenty of options to give business a boost. If the plan worked, they’d pull off a much-needed brightening to both the menu and the restaurant’s income while still keeping the Double Shot’s tried-and-true classics.

  Teagan trailed a wooden spoon through the stockpot in front of her, admiring the bright yellow burst of corn kernels peppered throughout the burnished brown chili. “It was really nice of Carly to sit down and talk with me about how she’s using the produce grown on-site at the resort to boost La Dolce Vita’s menu. I had no idea it could work so seamlessly.”