by Trixie More
Chapter 4
New York City
December 2016
“Ah, Dios! The damn garlic burnt again!” Marley said. “She’s just never cooking nice on this stove!”
Allison hurried over, slammed another fry pan on the stove and shoved a bowl of chopped garlic at her one and only employee. She took the hot fry pan with the blackened lumps of garlic away, dropping it on top of the stack of dirty pots in the stainless-steel sink with a clang. Then, she returned to the worktable where she was prepping for the fifteen different dishes she and Marley were trying to finish up, all at the same time. After two months in business, she was finally busy—too busy. The holiday season created excess demand, and they were capitalizing on overflow as other caterers turned away some of their regulars. To Allison, every customer was crucial. Twelve months was a long time to wait for another seasonal overflow to help her get her business moving again.
A timer went off, alerting her that the ziti noodles were done boiling. She grabbed up the heavy pot and drained the noodles, then started mixing the pounds and pounds of pasta into an enormous vat of ricotta, spinach, eggs, and herbs. Then she portioned the mixture into several aluminum trays, added sauce and cheese, before shoving them into the huge refrigerator and doing it again. At the stove, Marley cursed.
“Marley! Again?” Allison couldn’t believe it. “Where’s your head at?” She went to the sink and quickly washed the other fry pan, drying it well, before bringing it to the stove. “Give me the garlic.” The small Costa Rican woman thrust the garlic at Allison and walked away from the stove. Allison adjusted the flame, added the butter to the pan and dumped in about half the remaining garlic. She picked a spatula up and gave it all a quick stir. “You have to focus on it and be patient, otherwise, if you get distracted and you try to go too fast, the butter will burn.” Marley shot her an evil look, so Allison figured Marley already knew that. Perhaps the fact that they’d both been here for almost sixteen hours was the reason Marley couldn’t focus. The rest of the small team of temporary hires had left hours ago, literally chased out by Allie’s gruff demeanor. She knew she needed to calm down, be nicer, but this was her business, and if she couldn’t get it to generate some serious cash soon, she might have to close her doors and lose all the money she’d put down. “Why don’t you go home?”
“Why don’ choo?” Marley shot back. They were saved from an outright brawl by the sound of the bells above the front door chiming. Allison looked at her watch. It was one a.m., and the sound of the bells made Allison’s heart pound. She’d thought they’d locked the doors hours ago. Her father was at his own place, so she didn’t have to wonder if it was he who opened the door. Marley looked at Allison, her eyes wide. They both froze. Allison carefully shut the gas off beneath the garlic and picked up a chopping knife. Marley grabbed a cast iron fry pan. Together they crept to the kitchen door. Footsteps, heavy but soft, could be heard from beyond the door. Marley flattened against the wall next to the door, the pan high above her head. Her flared nostrils fluttered. The smell of sizzling garlic and butter was suddenly overpowering. Allison stood directly in front of the door, the knife held in front of her and waited.
“Hello?” The voice was deep, rough, and definitely male. Marley stared at her. Allison shut her eyes briefly, took a deep breath and walked forward. Marley was shaking her head frantically.
“I’m not going to be trapped in my own kitchen,” hissed Allison. “This is my house.” With those big, brave words, she put the knife behind her back, laid her palm flat on the metal door and pushed. As she stepped out, she was astonished to see construction god standing there, the shadows making him seem larger, if that were possible. She dropped her arms, knife at her side and gaped for a moment. His eyebrows were tilted upward, brow wrinkled. He tipped his head slightly forward and to the left as if he were peering down at her through a microscope. Dios, he was one sexy man. And Dios, she’d been working for hours and was covered in oil, butter, and sauce. Her hands were dry as paper, and her hair was stuffed up under an over-sized baseball cap.
Well, she might be hideous, but she still owned this joint.
“We’re closed,” she said, pointing to the neon window sign.
“Rose sent me. You didn’t go home. She worried.” His lower jaw thrust forward a bit, his brown eyes looked careful.
Allison looked past him to the door. “How did you get in?”
Construction god held up a set of keys.
“You have a key to my business? Give it here.” She marched over to him holding her hand out, palm up. In the other hand, she still held the knife, momentarily forgotten.
He stepped back and lifted the keys into the air. The retreat bothered her. Those were her keys. This was not a game. “Now, Mister. Drop those keys right here in my hand, and I won’t need to call the police.”
He shook his head, his expression moving from cautious to stubborn. She crossed right over to him and reached up, but the keys were out of her reach. This would not do. Behind her, she heard Marley coming out of the kitchen.
“Allie?”
“Get back in the kitchen, Marley. I’ll take care of this.”
Marley came out and stood next to her. “Derrick. What’re you doing?”
“You know him?”
“Sure, he’s Rose’s grandson, Derrick. You should put that knife down.”
Allison’s head whipped around, and she stared up at construction god. The god was a Mastrelo?
“Rose’s grandson is a businessman,” she said. Now Derrick and Marley were both looking at her like she was nuts. “He is. I met him the night I bought this place.” She shook a finger at Derrick. “You were there. You looked right at me.”
A brilliant grin slipped across the man’s face, white teeth gleamed. Double Dios, hot and hot. “That,” he said, “was my brother. The doctor.”
“That was your brother? No way. You two look nothing alike.” She couldn’t seem to stop herself. “Rose’s grandson David is clean-cut, much fairer, more …” She finally realized the look on construction god’s face was getting darker by the minute. Where had the smile gone?
“Right,” said Marley. “Derrick looks like his sister. They both take after their mother. You should put that knife down.”
“Who’s his sister?” Now she was talking to Marley like the man wasn’t there. Why didn’t he speak?
“Sophie, of course.”
Sophie. It was all starting to make sense. Sophia and Derrick did look alike, now that she thought of it, full mouths, white teeth, olive skin, dark, dark, hair, and eyes. Except Derrick was like two Sophias in size. She glanced over at him. He was leaning his hip against her counter. Tonight, he had on running shoes, jeans, and a white polo shirt. His straight hair, shorter than the last time she’d seen him, was combed back, but still, some pieces wanted to fall back over his brow. “So, you’re Rose’s grandson, and those,” she gestured with her knife at the keys that were dangling from his long fingers, “are Rose’s keys?” Of course, they were. Rose and Angelo owned the building, and he’d said she’d sent him over. God, she was a dimwit.
Allison straightened up to her full height and raised her chin. “You can tell her we are fine and thank her for her concern.”
Derrick nodded.
“Why are you here this late?” he asked, and then he had the nerve to walk straight into her kitchen.
Miss Bossy Ass seemed to like his brother. Derrick clenched his front teeth together.
He’s so fair, so clean-cut, he thought mockingly. Big deal. He was a doctor like their father. Big freakin’ deal. He watched Allison Walton from the corner of his eye as he headed toward the kitchen.
“Why are you here this late?” he asked again, mostly because he knew Rose would badger him for the answer when he returned. The kitchen drew him, he wanted to know if it still felt like the real Mastrelo kitchen. As he passed, boss lady’s mouth dropped open. He smiled to himself. He heard her boots coming after him. He smiled a b
it more. Her work boots were small, with low heels. Wolverines probably. Who wore boots in a kitchen? She caught up to him as he began pushing the door open, grabbing at his raised forearm, sending a shock of awareness through him. Her grip was … strong. Her fingers curled around his arm, tugging it downward. He didn’t have to lower his arm if he didn’t want to, his height and build gave him that. Nobody could push him around if he didn’t let them. He held his arm where it was and felt her start to pull harder. He almost groaned, her strength was an aphrodisiac.
“Can I see?” he asked.
She let go. Interesting.
“It’s just a kitchen,” she said, but she was wrong. The door opened, and Derrick stepped through into the restaurant of his childhood. Three-quarters of it anyway, the right quarter was missing of course. That was on the other side of the wall, but here, on this side, was the space he missed, the big refrigeration units and the broad, flat worktables. He moved farther in, looking curiously at what they were cooking up. Everything here felt right, familiar. He turned to find bossy bottom behind him. Everything, he thought.
Allison seemed to wilt as she entered the kitchen. He looked around, trying to see what she saw. Work. The place looked like a hurricane had hit it. On the stove sat a pan full of fried garlic. The space was filled with the rich aroma of the butter, blended with sweet basil, bright with onions and garlic. It smelled like home. He strolled over to the sink. The big stainless steel three-bay sink was full of pots and pans. He looked to the left of the big door and smiled. She’d left the steel hooks he remembered, and they still held several colored aprons. Just like home. He reached over and pulled one down, putting it over his head and wrapping the ties around his waist, back to the front and tying them off.
“What are you doing?” bottom boss asked. He had to bite his cheek at that one, imagining what she’d be like, topping from the bottom, all that wild hair spread out on a pillow while she tried to order him about. In fact, it was impossible to imagine her not trying that. His skin reacted to the thought, a slight tightening chasing over his arms and legs, almost like goose bumps. To stop that line of thinking, he turned his attention to the sink and cleared out the left bay, plugged the drain, started the hot water, looked around for the soap. Marley was by his side now, pointing to the shelf above the sink. Soon, the soap bubbles boiled up.
“Hey, I asked you a question,” Allison said. She raised her brows, opened her eyes wide and shook her head at him.
“He’s helping,” said Marley as she gently took the knife from Allison. Derrick let himself laugh at that. “Don’t scare him off, girl.” She tugged Allison away from the sink and Derrick just enjoyed the feel of hot water on his hands as he moved the pots to the soapy bay. He filled up the rinse bay and the disinfecting bay, getting busy with the washing. Getting busy would be a great end to the day. He risked another look at lady boss.
“But why is he helping?” Allison was hissing at Marley. Derrick studied the pot in his hands, waiting to hear the answer.
“Because he’s nice. You remember nice Allie, right? You used to be nice,” Marley said, only half teasing from what Derrick could tell. From the look on Allison’s face, she wasn’t buying it. Good for her, because that wasn’t really the reason he helped.
“He wants something, I’m sure of it.” Allison allowed herself to be talked into getting back to work and letting him stay. He filed that observation away.
“What do you want, Mr. Construction Guy?” Allison was watching him as she stirred a huge bowl of ricotta, speaking normally again.
Construction Guy? Is that who she thinks I am?
“Peace and quiet,” he answered honestly. Mastrelo’s was packed tonight. Sophia was running the bar, both grandparents were arguing in the tiny kitchen, and his brother David was holding court at a pool table. Also at the pool table was his dad. Why wouldn’t Derrick be washing dishes somewhere else?
Using her forearm, Allison pushed her baseball cap back while blowing a raspberry at him. One thing about boss lady, she sure paid a lot of attention to him. Where he came from, that meant he had a chance. He smiled and moved his feet farther apart. Maybe he wanted a chance. She certainly was lively, and he liked lively. The three of them continued working, Derrick washing, drying, figuring out where things went, Marley making batch after batch of Chicken Marsala, Allison finishing her ziti and moving on to prepping vegetables. Every time he looked her way, he found Allison watching him, usually outright, but sometimes, just cutting her eyes over. When she did that, she kept her gaze low. She might like his brother’s clean-cut golden boy routine, but she also liked Derrick’s package. From what he could tell, she liked it a lot. He crossed behind her to put a pot away, reaching up over her, letting his body press into her back just for a moment. She rewarded him by ceasing her vegetable chopping. He moved away, got another pot but put it away without touching her. The sound of chopping began again.
While they worked, the women discussed the minutia of the coming day, what orders were being picked up first, when Marley needed to be in, how they would manage to deliver the hot catering items to their customers tomorrow evening. They were both exhausted, that much he’d known the minute he’d seen them, but Allison seemed to have endless reserves of strength.
Dead on her feet was the only way to describe Marley. With the dishes done, he went over to the stove and gently took the frying pan from Marley’s hand. Her long, dark lashes fanned against her cheeks; she was frying chicken with her eyes closed. He felt a tender affection for her. When Mastrelo’s had still been Mastrelo’s, he and Marley had worked together countless weekends. He was glad Allison had given her a job. He turned to Allison and gestured to Marley. Allison tipped her head to the side. He could tell the moment she figured out what he wanted; a sweet smile spread across her face and her always restless body stilled. She put down her knife and walked over to her helper.
“Marley? Sweetie?”
Allison had a soft side, who knew? The contrast between the way she appeared now and the brittle kitchen witch caught his interest, quick and sharp. How could he get that gentle affection turned his way? “Marley, honey, it’s time to go home.” Marley shook her head quickly, like a woman trying to stay awake behind the wheel. Allison looked at him, and at that moment, his breath caught. Her eyes were vulnerable, her face open. She looked much younger, less certain. It was as if another woman lived inside her, he thought. He caught himself staring at her mouth, lifted his gaze and saw the awareness in her expression. He could kiss her right this moment if he wanted and seconds after that thought, arousal started. He doused it, and it must have shown on his face. Allison’s mouth firmed up, and that open young woman disappeared. Damn. His ever-busy mind started working on the puzzle of how to make her manifest for him again.
“I can’t send her home like this, she’s too tired,” Allison said.
Derrick nodded, but he didn’t make it easy. He watched frustration and concern chase over Allison’s pretty face. Loose curls stuck to her flushed, sweaty cheeks, her eyes a stormy hazel, closed for a second and then she asked him. “You don’t have a car, do you?”
Fifteen minutes later, after convincing Marley that she would close up and go home too, bossy babe was loading Marley into the cab of his truck, the night air having revived her helper a bit.
“You’re to take her right home,” boss lady was saying. “No fooling around.” He resented that a bit, more because it echoed his father’s lack of faith in him than because of her assumption about how he might treat women. After all, she didn’t really know him. “She should arrive at her door in this same condition or better.”
“I’m sure I can make her feel better than she does now,” he said, keeping his face bland.
“Derrick,” Marley warned. “Don’t set her off.”
He glanced at Marley and patted her head. He looked across the cab at her boss. “Don’t worry.”
Marley pulled the door shut.
“Don’t worry about bossy
butt, I can make her feel better, too, if I get her riled up,” he said to Marley with a smirk.
“Derrick!” Marley closed her eyes, leaning her head back. “You and Allison Walton? She’ll eat you alive.”
Now that sounded like a challenge. Yep, everything on this side of the firewall felt just right.
“Allie?” Dorothy Johansen’s voice floated into Allison’s office.
Allison was a person who liked a challenge, but she was beginning to think she’d made a mistake. She’d been in business for over two months, and she hadn’t yet made more than she’d spent on supplies and labor, never mind the eighty-eight grand. Even with her father giving her another ten thousand dollars, the path to success wasn’t clear. As of today, she was ninety-eight thousand dollars in debt. She had dozens of deliveries to make, no vehicle to use and Marley, who was supposed to be back already, was nowhere to be found and not answering her cell phone.
Allison had been working for over twenty-four hours straight, having not gone home last night like she’d promised Marley. Thank heaven she’d taken on a roommate back in November when she’d realized the enormity of what she’d gotten into. Dorothy was a godsend. Her parents were rich with a capital R and without her paying rent, Allison would not have been able to afford their apartment this month. Now Dorothy was bringing her clean clothes, giving Allison’s father a ride in and lending her a van.
Heels clattered over the floor and Dorothy’s blond head popped around the corner, followed by Dorothy, looking fabulous in bright pink heels, black cropped jeans, and a pink top. She certainly wasn’t dressed to deliver baked ziti. Dorothy was so pulled together and sexy, Allie would have felt intimidated, except the girl was a flaky hot mess. They were mainly polar opposites.
“How you holding up, Allie?” Dorothy walked over to the desk and put a plastic bag of clothes down. “You looked like you’ve been dumped into a vat of grease and rolled in flour.”
