Her mind worked five steps ahead of her hands, and when the kitchen buzzed like it did now, she forced everyone around her to work just as hard. She wasn’t a hard-ass as a head chef, but she didn’t suffer any slackers. “Why is this salmon still in my window?” she shouted to whoever could hear her and make sure the meal was delivered before it was too cold to serve.
She looked up a second time and the salmon was gone.
She sampled her sous chef’s garlic sauté before pouring it over her signature vegetarian pasta. Zoe set it next to a filet and a roast duck on the same order and gave a quick shout to the headwaiter, who whisked away the finished meals.
A new set of orders littered the screen of the POS system, drawing a moan from more than one chef.
“They know you’re here, Zoe.”
Oliver was her second in charge and nearly as talented as she. “Remind me not to take any more vacation time.”
“I don’t think that will make a difference.”
The next two hours were nothing but a blur. It was close to ten before the orders started to slow.
Zoe took the time to check on the pastry chef and randomly sample the dishes she’d approved. She nixed the raspberry topping on the crème brûlée after popping one of the berries in her mouth and finding it too tart. The upset was small, but she respected the twenty-dollar-a-dish dessert choice and the people who paid that kind of money for it too much to serve something less than perfect. Because she was who she was, Zoe slipped from behind the doors of the kitchen and into the restaurant. The headwaiter took her to a party of six, where three had ordered the dessert she removed from the menu.
She introduced herself and apologized for the inconvenience.
It always astonished her how recognizable her face was to the foodies who went out of their way to dine at Nahana.
Zoe moved around the tables, asked how everything was, and happily posed for two pictures before the manager waved her back into the kitchen right on cue. The patrons would keep her talking for hours if she let them.
By the time Zoe left the restaurant, it was past one in the morning. She’d gone over the menu selections for the next week based on the availability of seafood, fresh vegetables, and Texas beef from a local farmer. She was scheduled to work three nights that week and a Sunday brunch. Filming with Felix was wrapping up the following week, with a trip to New York scheduled at the end of the month.
All she could think about was how to get back to River Bend or find time to squeeze Luke in. He hadn’t said he was going to visit, but he hadn’t said he wouldn’t.
Zoe tossed a handful of mail on her kitchen counter and pressed Play on her answering machine. Anton’s voice touted three new listings she just had to see. Her talent agent, Suki, had a list of opportunities she needed to say yes or no to before they met in New York at the end of the month . . . and then Luke’s voice soothed all the stress of the day with a simple hello.
“Hello, Zoe. I remember you saying you don’t check your cell phone when you’re in the kitchen and I didn’t want you calling while driving. Call if it’s not too late . . . and by not too late, I mean . . . call.”
He picked up on the first ring. “Hey, baby.”
“It’s one thirty in the morning.”
“Only eleven thirty here. How was your shift?”
Zoe settled into her sofa, curled her legs under her butt, and cradled the phone to her ear. She told him about her crazy night and asked about his.
“The cars in River Bend are running smooth.”
She grinned. “It sounds like you own them all.”
“It sometimes feels like I do.”
“Does it get old . . . working on the same ones time and time again?” She couldn’t help but wonder if Luke’s day job bored him like algebra did back in high school.
“There are a few I’d just as soon blow up with a truckload of TNT.”
“I remember you once saying a car had to be really far gone before you’d consider it a contender for the junkyard.” He’d said that about her mother’s car, growing up. Then again, he was probably just being polite at the time since Zoe’s mom couldn’t afford a replacement.
“This from the woman who made leftovers taste like a gourmet meal.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would. How is everything in Texas?”
She liked this, the ease of conversation, the back and forth. The familiarity she hadn’t had with any man since Luke.
“My real estate agent has more houses to show me.”
“Oh?” He didn’t sound excited about it.
“I’m torn about what to do.”
“Because of us?” he asked.
“That’s part of it. The restaurant is nuts when I’m there, and my agent, Suki, has a half a dozen guest spots available to me.”
“You mean TV shows?”
“Yeah. They dangle some serious money and make it hard for me to pass.”
“What do you like better . . . the filming or the restaurant?”
“I like to cook, Luke. I can do that with both. The stress of the kitchen is starting to weigh on me. Felix suggested I open my own place to take my brand to the next level.”
“Your brand?”
“My name. Eventually every celebrity chef opens their own place.”
“Sounds stressful.”
She started talking numbers, the profit potential. She knew how much Nahana was bringing in because of her position. “I’m always trying to figure out how to stay on top so I won’t always have to work this hard.”
“It sounds like that’s what you’re doing.”
“I’m so wrapped up in it I haven’t even asked myself if I’m happy doing it.”
“And all this has something to do with looking at homes?”
She stifled a yawn. “I landed in Texas. It was never a place I thought I’d live. Felix and his team came to me, but I film in New York and Los Angeles all the time.”
“Are you thinking of moving?”
“To LA or New York?”
“Yeah.”
“Lord, no. They both have their qualities, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
“I thought you liked living in Texas.”
“I do. I mean . . . I’ve grown used to it. I’m close to the airport, I have lots of opportunity here.”
Luke sighed. “By opportunity, do you mean chef positions to choose from?”
“Yeah.”
“You could get those anywhere.”
“I don’t know.”
Luke laughed. “Hon, you’re Zoe Fucking Brown. You can go anywhere and restaurants will fall over themselves to hire you.”
She felt her cheeks heat. “I don’t know about that.”
“Ha!”
“What?”
“I have a confession to make.”
This should be good. “I’m listening.”
“I’ve followed your career a little more than the next guy since you left River Bend.”
She forgot about how tired she was and sat up. “What do you mean by followed?”
“When Warring Chef hit the air and River Bend started weekly Zoe nights in front of the televisions all over town, I sat at home and watched on my own. I listened to the newscasts on the Food Network and had Google send me messages when your name popped up online or in the paper.”
“If I didn’t know you, I’d accuse you of stalking me.”
“Oh, I stalked you. I made myself a little crazy with it, even when I was doing my best to get over us. You know what I learned?”
“That stalking is a felony in several states?” she said, laughing.
“I learned that every time you pushed to another level, it proved you had to leave this town to get there. And as much as I missed you, I was proud that you were doing it.”
Zoe placed a hand to her chest. “Oh, Luke.”
“I mean it, Zoe. We were kids, and you needed to do this to find yourself. And if you’re sitting there at clo
se to two in the morning questioning if you’re good enough to find a job in bumfuck anywhere . . . then you haven’t paid attention to just how big of a celebrity you really are.”
“I’m not—”
“Yes, you are. You’re wicked talented. You’re stunning, and if you haven’t noticed, a lot of your counterparts look like crap on film . . . and you’re genuine.”
“I’m not—”
“You are! You have options, Zoe. Lots of options.”
She waited to speak. “You’re good for my ego, Miller.”
“You’re not exactly bad for mine, Brown. Now tell me what you’re wearing.”
He made her laugh. “Nothing sexy.”
“Then lie to me.”
For the next fifteen minutes, she did . . . about her attire, in any event. And when she crawled into bed, she decided to test Luke’s theory in the morning and see where it could lead.
Zoe met Felix at a taco shack that served amazing steak tacos and ice-cold beer. She decided to corner her friend outside of work to avoid anyone overhearing their conversation.
Felix wore dark sunglasses and a fedora. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to hide his face or stand out in a crowd. He certainly managed his share of stares before they found an empty table with a red and green shade umbrella that warded off the Dallas sun.
“Very incognito.” Zoe touched the brim of his hat as he sat down.
“You said you wanted to meet in private. I don’t get those invitations very often.” He lowered his sunglasses and winked before looking around. “Not from beautiful women, in any event.”
He twisted off the top of his beer and did the same for the one sitting in front of her before taking a drink. “So what’s so important it couldn’t wait until next week?”
The beer cooled her throat going down and helped her open up. “I was talking to Luke last night—”
“Mr. James Dean?”
She nodded.
“He’s hot!”
“Hands off,” she warned without heat in her words.
Felix once again lowered his glasses and studied her over the rims. “Looks like someone is getting a little somethin’, somethin’.”
Instead of confirming his suspicion, she offered a sly smile and continued, “Luke said something that I’m not sure is true.”
Felix pushed his glasses high on his nose and sat back. “I’m listening.”
“He said I could get a job anywhere if I wanted to.”
Felix sipped his beer. “Uh-huh . . . what else did he say?”
“Uhm, that’s it . . . that I was enough of a celebrity to get a job in bumfuck anywhere.”
This time when Felix unveiled his eyes, he set his glasses on the table and stared. “This is news to you?”
She blinked. “Well, I know I’m popular, that people go out of their way to visit the restaurant when I’m in the kitchen—”
“Zoe, darling . . .” He leaned forward. “If you wanted to relocate to France, Belgium, or Tallahassee, you’d have restaurants willing to redesign their kitchens to have you in them. Your name brings money to everything you touch. Hasn’t your bank account shown you that?”
She thought of her account, of the savings she’d been socking away since her first paycheck showed up after Warring Chef started to air. “It could all blow up tomorrow.”
“Who told you that?”
“I did, years ago. There are no guarantees.”
Felix reached over and touched her hand. “Do you know why you’re so popular in this world of foodies and networks dedicated to pasta soufflés?”
“Because I can cook.”
“No! Lots of people can cook. It means something to you. You’re down-to-earth and charming in front of that camera. Your story charmed the average American when Warring Chef hit the air and had plenty of them up in arms when you didn’t win.”
“Sebastian was better than me. He deserved to win.”
“That may be . . . but you were the girl next door who was determined to take second place and make it her own. Your friend Luke was right, sweetie. If you don’t believe me, I’ll put out a few calls and let some of our network friends know you’re looking for bigger and better avenues. Slaving away in Nahana can’t be good for your complexion.”
“It’s a great position.”
“It’s a stepping stone.”
“They pay me well.”
“So does my producer, but if you asked for more, he’d pay. Don’t tell him I told you that!” he quickly added.
Zoe looked down at her foil wrapped tacos and started to open one. “Thanks, Felix.”
“Anytime.” He leaned in again. “And if you ever decide to relocate, do it outside of this damn state. I’m sick of wearing cowboy boots.”
She glanced down at his loafer-clad feet.
Chapter Twelve
“Mel picked a date.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.” Luke sat over an open bucket of fried chicken in Wyatt’s backyard.
“Last weekend in August.”
“That’s only three months from now.”
“I know. But if we wait any longer, the window for an outdoor wedding at Miss Gina’s fades. Hope is out of school and can go down to the bay area with my parents while we honeymoon.”
“And where are you guys going?”
“I have no idea.”
Luke bit a chunk out of a chicken leg and waved the bone in the air. “When do you want the bachelor party and who do you want me to invite?”
“You’re still thinking Vegas?”
“I am. I’ll talk to Zoe and coordinate.”
“I think bachelor parties aren’t supposed to involve the bride.”
“It won’t. We’ll be on one side of the strip and the girls will be on the other. Outside of getting there, we probably won’t see them at all.”
Wyatt frowned. “What if I wanna get laid?”
“Then you sneak out like me and hook up with your woman without telling anybody.”
That had Wyatt smiling. “How is everything with you and Zoe?”
“Strange. We talk every night, text during the day. Feels like I’m a kid again.”
“So you plan to see her in Vegas?”
“I plan on all kinds of things.”
“Oh?”
Luke put the chicken down and wiped his hands on the napkin on the table. “I’m going to Texas next week.”
“That’s going to get expensive in a heartbeat.”
Luke thought about the interviews he had set up. “I’m thinking about moving.”
Wyatt stopped his hand midway to his beer. “To Texas?”
He shrugged. “I’m going to see what’s out there.”
“But you have a home here, a job with your dad.”
“Aww, Wyatt . . . I didn’t know you cared so much.”
Wyatt rolled his eyes. “This is all about Zoe.”
“Zoe started it. I won’t deny that. I’ll be thirty in September . . .”
“And?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t done a whole lot with my life.”
Wyatt sat back, ran his fingers over the condensation on his longneck beer. “I hear ya. I knew I didn’t want to live in the city. When I found River Bend, I knew this was where I needed to be. If you’ve only ever been here, you might not know you belong.”
“I’m trying not to overthink . . . go with my gut.”
“And your gut is pointing toward Texas?”
“My gut is pointing toward Zoe.” Something he never considered denying.
“Are you sure that’s your gut talking?”
“I felt like I was in stagnant water before Zoe and I got back together. I’ve never hated my work, or this town. Still can’t say I do . . . but with her back in my world, it just feels fuller. She’s a pretty big thing out there.”
“Doesn’t mean she can’t come to you,” Wyatt said.
“I’m not so full of myself to think I can’t consider going to her.”
“Wow, you’ve given this a lot of thought.”
Luke shrugged. “No, I’ve just given it some thought. I’m going to Texas to consider other options.”
“I’d hate to see you leave, but I get it.”
He didn’t think asking Zoe to return was an option. “So, Vegas . . .” Luke changed the subject.
They decided a mid-July trip would give everyone time to play and plan. If the women didn’t think it would work, they vowed to keep the date anyway. They were six beers in when they made their dedication, and both knew they’d change their tune if two of the three guarantee players backed out.
Luke walked home, not willing to test Jo’s friendship after drinking with Wyatt most of the night.
It was going to be a hard enough week for one of his best friends.
The anniversary of Jo’s father’s death fell on the week of the annual high school reunion for the second year in a row. He made a mental note to be around to help her get drunk or stay sober. Whatever she needed.
He flipped on the lights and opened the window in his kitchen. He didn’t need another beer, but he grabbed one anyway. He rang Zoe’s cell phone, knowing she’d be just walking in the door after a late shift.
“Hey, baby.”
“Richard?”
For a minute, he paused. “That was mean.”
Zoe laughed.
“I’ll get you for that.”
Jo stood on the sidelines of the annual high school reunion, watching the familiar ritual of perpetual lying.
“You haven’t changed a bit.”
“You look better than when we were kids.”
“I made a killing on the stock market.”
No one made a killing on any stock market in years. Yeah, the bullshit factor ran high when the alumni tried to impress their old friends.
Jo’s eyes scanned the crowd, determined to see something out of the ordinary.
“What has your attention so keenly focused, Sheriff?”
Jo jumped when Luke walked up from behind her. “Sneaking up on an armed woman isn’t wise, Miller.”
Luke gave her a wink and a grin. “You wouldn’t shoot me. I fix your car.”
“Ha!” She willed her pulse back to normal and turned her attention to the high school gym.
Staying For Good (A Most Likely To Novel Book 2) Page 11
