Savor Me

by Kailin Gow

  Savor Me

  Master Chefs #2

  Kailin Gow

  DEDICATION

  This dedication is for all women who has made mistakes in love, have found love, or are on a journey to find love. Cheers to you for opening yourself to it.

  Prologue

  “Over here, Miss Taryn Cummings.”

  Caught in the busy come and go of JFK airport, Taryn turned to see her brother in the crowd, waving her over. He flashed her a mocking grin. Forcing a smile, she waved and maneuvered her way to him. “Bobby,” she said as she gave him a hug. “What are you doing here? Mom made you come out and get me, huh?”

  He kissed her cheek and took her suitcase. “Hey, what an opinion you have of your little brother. I offered to come.”

  “Yeah, I know how you love to drive through traffic, wrestle into a parking space and elbow your way through this crowd… all to come and help me lug my suitcase back out… How far are you parked?”

  Chuckling, he put his arm around her shoulder and escorted her out. “It’s a beautiful day for a walk in the Big A. I’m sure after being cooped up in that plane for hours, a little fresh air will do you good.”

  Shielding his eyes from the blinding sun, he stopped and looked out at the field of cars. “Now, if only I could remember where I left that big, black sucker.”

  Taryn looked at him. “Mom let you take her Lexus?”

  “Hey, I’m offended. You say that like I’m not trustworthy.” He continued to scan the parking lot.

  “Seriously, Bobby. Where d’you park it?”

  He nudged her playfully with his elbow and turned to the left. Sooner than he’d let on, they arrived at the large SUV. After tossing her suitcase into the back seat, they got in and drove off.

  “So?”

  “So?”

  “How’s my driving?”

  “Your driving? I just came home from months in France and you want me to comment on your driving?”

  “Ever since you got in the car, you’ve been checking my blind spot, looking behind us, making sure I make a full stop. Relax, ma grande soeur, I know how to drive.”

  “And you’ve been learning a bit of French, too?”

  “Well, you’ve been there so long, I thought maybe you wouldn’t understand English anymore.” He laughed at himself.

  “You're such a silly goof.”

  “Ha, that’s not what Kristy said last night.”

  Taryn leaned her head back into the headrest. “Please, spare me the details of your torrid love life.”

  “It’s not torrid. It’s just busy.”

  She turned to look at him. “I must admit, mon petit frere, you do look good.” She reached out to finger a blond lock that lightly brushed against the nape of his neck. “You let your hair grow in a bit.”

  “Yeah… the girls love it.”

  Taryn laughed. “I imagine they would. So, besides staying busy with the ladies, what you been up to?”

  “Still taking those cooking classes at college. You know, girls love that, too. Do you know how much girls are turned on by a guy who knows how to cook?”

  “Yeah,” Taryn droned. “Tell me about it.”

  “And at my age. I mean, girls don’t expect a good looking, eighteen year old guy to be so talented in the kitchen… you know what I mean?”

  “You're an eternal flirt, you know that?”

  “Yep.”

  “And so humble.”

  “I do what I can. Besides, false humility never did anybody good.”

  Taryn snorted. “What about the restaurant?”

  “Busy. I’m there more than thirty hours a week now.”

  “Thirty? And when do you go to college?”

  “Pretty much the rest of the time. I have to admit, between running the kitchen and keeping my grades up, I don’t have much time to fool around.”

  Taryn grinned and affectionately patted his hand. “I’m sure you manage to find time.”

  Glancing at her, he flashed her his killer smile.

  No wonder the girls all fall for him, she thought. He is pretty darn cute.

  “You know, now that you’ve dropped all this Paris business, why don’t you take a course with me at college.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m going to concentrate on giving mom a hand at the restaurant. The hours I put in will give you a break.”

  “Ah, come on. It’d be fun. I mean, I know it’s not a Parisian institute or nothing, but it’s a decent course. I’ve already learned a lot. And not just about cooking. I’m taking a restaurant management course now.”

  “Thanks, Bobby, but I honestly can’t imagine working with you most of the day then going off to take the same classes as you. I think a sibling relationship can only take so much togetherness.”

  Looking straight ahead, he snorted. “Yeah, I think you're right.”

  As they drove in front of La Benicoise, one of the restaurants Errol had opened in New York, Taryn’s heart skipped a beat. She’d managed to put him out of her mind the entire twenty minutes she’d spent catching up with Bobby, but now the thought of him struck her unexpectedly and knocked the air out of her.

  “You okay?”

  “Huh?”

  “You gasped out of nowhere. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. Just surprised by how things have changed since I’ve been gone.”

  “Really? Cause you just went pale like a ghost. Besides, you haven’t been away that long and the neighborhood hasn’t changed that much. I mean they finished repairing the water main on twenty-fifth, but that’s about it.”

  She hated lying to him, but there was no way she could share her thoughts with him. How could she tell him about the wild nights she spent with Errol, the crazy things he made her do, the wild things that brought her so much pleasure?”

  “So how was that Chef Errol King?”

  Damn it. Taryn shuddered. Sometimes she’d swear her little brother could read right through her.

  He was fine, she wanted to say. Great. Arousing. Erotic. Exciting. He was more handsome than a man had the right to be. He was more thrilling than anything she’d ever known.

  And damn it, she’d let herself fall so hopelessly in love with a man who only saw her as another sex toy, another play thing.

  “He’s a better chef than he is a teacher,” she finally said.

  “Really. Did you learn a lot from him anyway?”

  I’ll say. “Yeah, sure. I mean the guy’s got experience. He knows his way around the kitchen.”

  “Is he as hard on his students as I’ve heard he is?”

  “He doesn’t have much patience for silliness. If you're not paying attention and getting it right, you have no business being in his class.”

  “Then it’s probably not the right class for me,” Bobby said with a playful grin.

  “You wouldn’t last five minutes in one of his classes.” Taryn laughed, though her heart wasn’t in it.

  “Is he the reason you came back? I mean, was he too hard on you?”

  Yes and yes. “No. I think it was a combination of being homesick, struggling with the language and dealing with a new substitute teacher we got mid course. She was a real doozy. All lunatic and barely anything pertinent to teach us.” She turned to look out the window. “Pastry puff, my ass,” she muttered as she remembered the sexy goddess who’d ruined pastry for her forever.

  Chapter 1

  Taryn lay back on her bed and closed her eyes. It was just half a lie, she told herself.

  Jet lag. Hardly slept on the plane. The change in temperature. The change in scenery. The change in language. After discussing her return home with her mom for a brief ten minutes, Taryn had quickly disengaged herself from the conversation and sought the shelter and solace of her old room. While she wasn’t ne
arly as tired as she claimed, she desperately needed a moment alone to collect her thoughts.

  She pulled out her phone and read and re-read every one of Errol’s texts. She’d yet to answer any of them. Again, she re-read the last one.

  Fine. If that’s the way you want it, I’m coming after you. I’m on the next flight to New York. I’ll find you, Taryn. I’ll find you and bring you back to Paris.

  She’d had plenty of time to consider her response, but it’d constantly changed. Yes. No. Maybe. Not now. Not ever. Why?

  Finally she decided on an answer. Errol, please don’t come to New York. I need to be alone and I don’t want to spend my time looking over my shoulder afraid I’ll run into you.

  She pressed send and put her phone down. Maybe she’d waited too long. Maybe he was already on his way to New York.

  Her phone signaled a new text. With lightning speed, she picked up her phone and looked at the text.

  I’m at the airport. My flight leaves in twelve minutes. Do you really want me to turn around and forget about going to New York? Forget about you?

  Her heart skipped a beat. Her body craved his touch and she knew she was hungry to have him, to taste him.

  I think it’s best for now.

  She waited for his response, breathless and anxious. A part of her wanted him to come regardless of her request.

  If that’s really what you want, okay. I’ll respect your wishes. But, Taryn, your studies, you have such talent, so much potential. How can you let all that slip away from you? Doesn’t it mean anything to you?

  She couldn’t deny how important it was to her, but even if she returned to Paris now, she’d never be able to concentrate enough to get through a single class.

  I’ll get back to my studies when the time is right. For now I need to be here, with my family, helping at the restaurant.

  Truth was she would probably wait until he left Paris and no longer taught at the Institute before going back.

  I understand. I’ll leave you alone. I hope you’ll let me know when you're ready to talk to me again.

  She should be elated. He was showing such respect for her wishes. Yet all she felt was dismayed, and disappointed. She regretted so much…In the turmoil of her emotions, she didn’t know if she’d ever be ready to talk to him again and hesitated before answering him.

  Yes, of course. I’ll let you know. Bye, Errol.

  Chapter 2

  Still groggy from her first night in New York, Taryn opened her eyes a crack. Someone was noisily rattling dishes in the kitchen, obviously oblivious to the fact she was trying to get some sleep. Taryn peered at her alarm clock. Four o’clock. My God, who’s up at this hour?

  Coffee percolated, toast jumped out of the toaster and something was sizzling in a frying pan. Clink; a cup set in a saucer. Swish; coffee heading into that cup. Tink, tink, tink; the spoon going round and round… and round and round.

  Mom, Taryn thought. No one stirred coffee as persistently as Samantha Cummings.

  Though she longed to stay curled up in bed with her pillow tucked neatly in her arms, Taryn got out of bed, set her feet into her fuzzy slippers and threw on her favorite old, ratty robe.

  “Hey, Mom.” She squinted as she entered the blinding light of the kitchen. “What you up to?”

  “Same old, same old, Taryn. Breakfast?”

  Taryn tried not to frown. “No, I’m still digesting dinner.”

  “Lost the habit of getting up in the morning, huh? I heard Parisians have dinner at nine o’clock at night. What time do they get up? Noon?”

  “Mom, it’s four o’clock. The birds aren’t even up yet.”

  Samantha grinned as she examined her daughter. “It’s good to have you home, Taryn. I don’t know what happened out there, and maybe you’ll let me in on it one day, but I’m happy you're here.”

  “Me, too, Mom.”

  “Good. Then go get dressed, grab a cup of coffee and a toast and let’s go.”

  “Now?”

  “Honey, I have a few deliveries coming in at five. Thirty pounds of beef, fifteen pounds of pork, twenty whole chickens, twenty-five loaves of bread, ten pounds of butter. Then we’ve got carrots, potatoes, rice, onions… oh, damn, I forgot to order the onions. Ah, well… And I also have a few specialty items coming in… a few new recipes we’re trying.”

  “Really? I can’t wait to taste them.”

  “Hope you’ll have time. Once the deliveries arrive we’ll barely have half an hour to put it all away before the breakfast crowd comes in.”

  “I’ll take two coffees then.”

  “You bet.”

  Seven minutes later they were in the darkened restaurant waiting for the first delivery truck.

  “Sorry I woke you up so early. I guess it was a rude awakening.”

  “That’s okay, Mom. I had intended to come in to help you.”

  “Yeah… I know. I had told myself I wouldn’t push you to come in so fast, but truth is…” She nudged Taryn playfully. “I’ve missed you, honey.”

  They had little time to say more. The deliveries arrived, they stacked everything away neatly and, as predicted, the morning crowd arrived. They’d barely cleared everything away when they learned one of the waitresses wouldn’t be in for the noonday shift, leaving Taryn to help out on the floor.

  Though worn out, Taryn realized as she looked at her watch at four thirty that she’d not had a chance to think of Errol. Good, she thought. All the better.

  Sitting down for a brief moment to rub her feet, she looked out at the early dinner crowd. The stream of people coming and going was relentless. She hadn’t stopped since they’d arrived so early that morning.

  “Think you can hang on until Bobby arrives?” Samantha said. She put her hand to her daughters shoulder.

  “Sure, Mom.”

  “I hate to cut into your break, but I need someone to separate that order of meat we got this morning.”

  “That was this morning? Geez, it’s seems like such a long time ago. I thought that was yesterday.”

  “Cute, dear. Can I count on you to do this for me?”

  “Yeah. I’m on it now.”

  Two hours later she stepped out of the refrigerator bloody and exhausted.

  “Is the rush over?” she asked her mom.

  “Almost. Just a few late arrivals. Most of them just want dessert and coffee or a light dinner.”

  “Want me to go out and help Rhonda?” She pulled off her soiled jacket.

  “I think she’d appreciate that. She’s been out there alone for the past hour. Marla left early.”

  Taryn grabbed a pad and pencil and headed to the section Marla usually worked. In the corner, a lone, blond young man sat looking at the menu.

  “The rib eye is particularly good tonight,” she offered.

  The young man set the menu on the table and looked up at her.

  “Matt!”

  “Taryn!”

  “What are you doing here? I thought you’d moved to Philadelphia.”

  “And I thought you were in Europe.”

  “I just got in yesterday.”

  “And your mom already has you working the floor?”

  “We’re having trouble with a few waitresses. What are you doing in town?”

  He pinched his blue t-shirt. “FDNY.”

  “A firefighter, huh. Impressive.”

  “Hey, you have time to sit and have coffee with me?”

  Taryn looked around. A couple sat at one table near the window, while a trio of young women sat consoling a fourth who was visibly heartbroken. Near the back two lone men sat at separate tables. “I only have a few tables to wait on, then I’m all yours.”

  He grinned and Taryn was caught off guard by the tingling sensation that quickly filled her gut. Matt had always been a good looking guy, in a very sweet and boyish way, but now… His biceps tore at the fabric of his t-shirt, his chest was broad and strong, his chin masculine and assertive, and his piercing blue eyes… they beckoned her.


  “Be right back,” she said with a grin. As Taryn hurried to serve the other clients, her mind jumped forward, imagining all the things she could do with the handsome and sexy fireman.

  Damn, Taryn. Fireman fantasies. That’s so cliché.

  I don’t care, she thought with a wicked grin. He’s good looking, he’s sexy as all get out, and damn if he doesn’t want me. He’s always had a crush on me.

  As she set a piece of cherry pie and coffee in front of the old man sitting alone, she gazed at Matt. His eyes had followed her every move since she’d left his table.

  “I’m just going to bring that teary-eyed girl a few napkins then I’m all yours,” she said as she passed him by.

  She came back a few moments later and sat down across from him. “I haven’t seen you since… well, since high school graduation. You’ve grown into a very handsome man. A very ruggedly handsome man.”

  He snorted shyly. “Thanks.”

  “I never knew you wanted to be a firefighter.”

  “Neither did I, actually. I mean I played with fire trucks when I was a kid and stuff, but I never really thought about making a career of it. 9/11 scared the shit out of me. I had nightmares about that for months after. I never would have thought I’d end up where I am now.”

  “So what made you do it?”

  He shrugged. “You remember Clark? That tall, gangly guy who always looked like he’d just gotten out of bed?”

  “The one who always looked like he’d taken a dump in his jeans?”

  “Yeah, that one,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I bumped into him one day a few months after graduation. I mean, I still didn’t really know what I wanted to do with my life and I was just hanging around, going from one meaningless and meager paying job to another. So, anyway, Clark tells me he’s on his way to the Fire Academy on Randall’s Island. I had nothing better to do that day and I was intrigued so I went along with him. Four years later, here I am.”

  “Must’ve been hard.”

  “Eighteen weeks of the hardest work I’d ever done. I never thought firefighting was so technical. I thought you just went in with a hose and that was it; drown the sucker. We had a course in Fire Science. Really interesting stuff. And of course you have to be in good physical condition to keep up with all this, and they really whip you into shape. They have a challenge course, work outs and we’d run three miles every day.”