The Flirtation Game: Castle Ridge Small Town Romance

by Allie Burton

  He’d been about to tell her he loved her, something that scared the shit out of him not knowing how their relationship would work. And she was searching for a job behind his back.

  He pulled the thick piece of paper taut in his hands, wanting to rip it into pieces. Except he didn’t want her to know he knew. He wanted her to confess her plans. With jerky motions, he put the resume back in place. Then, he flattened the business card as best as possible and put it back.

  It’s not as if he’d told her about the bargain with Parker. She’d be furious about that, too, even though he’d done it for her. Yet, she’d gone behind his back to look for a new position. Had she even thought to tell him? No.

  If they couldn’t share their secrets, how could they share their lives?

  Snapping off the coffeepot, he moved toward the front door, put on his boots, and grabbed his coat. He didn’t want to be here when she woke up. His hurt and anger would be too apparent, and he didn’t want to explain the emotions swirling inside. He didn’t think he could explain. He didn’t fully understand his own torrid emotions.

  Anger, betrayal, hurt, love.

  * * *

  Isabel woke up alone.

  The sheets beside her were rumpled and cold. The house was quiet. Empty.

  “Michael?” She called out, knowing no one would respond.

  A fissure formed in her heart. He’d left. Last night they hadn’t had sex, they’d made love. She’d felt it with every touch and caress. With every kiss. After such a beautiful experience, why would he abandon her?

  The fissure widened, filling with doubts.

  She’d thought after last night she and Michael were done hiding their real feelings. She believed they’d eat a late breakfast and get dressed together. Walk to work together. Was she reading too much into their relationship?

  Her loneliness increased, sending a chill down her spine. Maybe he needed to get to the restaurant early. It was a Saturday, and the reservations were full. Still, she couldn’t stop the lingering doubts walking to work alone, changing into her kitchen clogs and chef’s coat, and heading into his office.

  He hunched over the desk, sorting through invoices with a scowl on his face. His messy hair indicated he’d run his fingers through it multiple times even though it was early in the day. How bad could the invoices be?

  “Morning, Michael.” Putting on her flirty-camera smile, she sauntered around the desk and kissed him on the cheek. “Last night was amazing.” The kiss was for the camera. The whispered words were for his ears only.

  He pushed the chair back and angled away. His sharp, granite eyes assessed. “Morning.”

  No welcoming grin or great-to-see-you expression. A pang shot through her.

  “Was there a problem this morning?” The real question, why did you leave, stayed on the tip of her tongue.

  “No.” He focused on the papers.

  “You came in to the restaurant early.”

  He’d left without saying goodbye.

  He didn’t glance up. “Things to do.”

  Her lungs constricted at his dismissal. It was as if he didn’t want to let her into his mind, and possibly his heart. She’d believed last night had been special. After their hot and scorching exchange in the laundry room, last night they’d taken their time. Savored each other. Made real and passionate love. Had it meant nothing to him?

  She slowly moved into the kitchen to start her day. The prep list was long, and most of the stations would need extra help. The evening was going to be tense. She should’ve asked last night if his gruffness was for the cameras so she’d be prepared for his rejection. Because that’s what it felt like.

  Rejection.

  Michael marched into the kitchen and started issuing orders and criticizing the other staff members. He snarled at Maria, barked at the dishwasher, and threw away Tony’s pasta. “Do it again.”

  Jerking back, Isabel studied his expression. Every line on his face. Every movement of his eyes. Something was wrong. She could tell. She refused to take being rejected personally. She wasn’t going to stop their game.

  She sidled up to him and put on her fake-flirty smile—a smile that was also a bit real. “I’d like to do you again.”

  He flashed his trademark celebrity chef smile. She received no warmth from its brightness. He caressed her shoulder. No answering tingles slid down her spine because the caress and the smile weren’t real. They were cold.

  “We can do it later.” His gaze glinted with what appeared to be anger, not sensuality. “Right now, we have lots of dinners to prepare.”

  His fake flirting rubbed her the wrong way, causing her skin to chafe. She wanted the real Michael flirting, not the celebrity-performing-for-the-cameras Michael. Up until today, the teasing and making eyes at each other for the camera had been fun, a sexual turn-on, which was how they’d ended up in the laundry room yesterday. Today, there was a hardness about him. He didn’t want to be flirting. And especially not with her.

  Her pulse thumped off-rhythm. Prickles flared behind her eyelids. Their affair was real, while the flirting was fake. What happened if the real relationship ended before the reality show was done filming? Could she continue to pretend to have a fling with Michael for the cameras, if their real relationship was doomed?

  What she needed was time alone with him without an audience and without any cameras. Time to clear up whatever happened from the moment he’d woken up this morning. He couldn’t be mad at her and not tell her why. That was ridiculous.

  Maria shuffled next to her. “What happened between you and Chef? Did you have a fight?”

  Isabel jerked, unsure what to say. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s pretty obvious to the entire staff you two are dating.”

  Her skin heated and it wasn’t from the nearby oven. “No relationships in the kitchen. Remember?”

  “Yeah, right.” Maria’s lip curled. “You know me and Tony are together. And you and Michael have been flirting nonstop. Until now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She placed a hand on her hip. “Girlfriend, you need to fry the man’s balls with your heat, and tell him to loosen up. Or you need to loosen him up yourself.” She nudged her and winked. “If you know what I mean.”

  Isabel choked. She used to love to gossip about her love life, about other people’s love lives, about everything and everyone. She didn’t enjoy it as much as she used to. Not when the outcome meant so much.

  She choked again.

  And coughed.

  Smoke filled the kitchen area coming from a large skillet on the cooktop. Alfred stood helplessly, watching.

  The kitchen was on fire.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Isabel froze, in spite of the heat from the fire. Processing, her mind churned, while black, acrid smoke choked her lungs. She knew procedure, knew what had to be done. She’d been trained. All the staff had been trained.

  Including Alfred, their newest employee, and the one who stood closest to the flames, not moving. His eyes appeared calm, calculating.

  “Fire!” She pushed her panic down. “Alfred, step back. Tony, get the Class K extinguisher. I’ll manually activate the fire-suppression system.”

  Bright yellow-and-orange flames shot into the air, scorching the exhaust hood and catching the grease beneath. Trying to take a breath, smoke choked her lungs. Her muscles tightened in a fight-or-flight response.

  Staff members surged into action. They knew the drill.

  Before she could make a move, Alfred picked up a pot of water and pitched the water toward the fire. Water on a grease fire was the worst possible thing.

  The panic she’d tried to control bulleted out of her mouth in a scream. “No!”

  The flames erupted in a fighting roar, spitting hot grease around the area. Heat swooshed, searing anyone standing nearby. She jerked back, covering her face.

  Alfred staggered, bending at the waist. “Ahhhhhhhh!” His scream puncture
d her eardrums.

  “Get down and roll!”

  He did as she commanded.

  She took a bold step forward. She had the most seniority in the kitchen right now, she had to take control. “Call nine-one-one. Earl, activate the suppression system for me. Someone find Michael. Everyone else get back!”

  People scattered to do as instructed.

  The roar exploded and the flames shot higher. The fire reflected off the stainless steel, making the kitchen brighter. The flames climbed across the exhaust hood and onto the wall, grabbing every spot and splatter of grease. Flames licked down the cooktop toward the floor.

  Fear flared inside her with each sputter. Even though it was hell-hot in the kitchen, shivers wracked her body. She couldn’t give in to the terror. Rushing forward, she pushed Alfred farther from the flames.

  Fire alarms screeched, adding to the roar of the fire. Adding to the chaos.

  “Maria, get Alfred out. He’s hurt.” Reaching under the cabinet, Isabel pulled out the Class K fire extinguisher.

  The heavy load of the bright-red canister was nothing compared to the load of emotions flaring through her. She had to save the newly-remodeled kitchen. She had to stop the fire, and make sure no one else was injured.

  She pulled the pin, aimed at the blackened pan, and made sweeping motions. The white foam sprayed into the stubborn flames. Gray smoke blended with the black.

  Isabel swept across the flames again. The fire wasn’t extinguishing. If anything, the flames shot higher, the fire spreading across the countertops, the shelving, and the meatroast. She was losing the battle against destruction.

  Her lungs heaved in heavy and soot-filled air. It was difficult to breathe. This wasn’t going to be a simple grease fire. The alarms going off in the building matched the alarm ringing in her head.

  “I’m here.” Michael thundered toward the stove with another red canister. He sprayed a second stream of foam at the fire. “Step back, Isabel.”

  Relief lowered her shoulders, even though the fight wasn’t done. She refused to back down and kept spraying.

  The foam streams crossed and mingled, combining their forces and creating more firefighting strength. Her’s and Michael’s actions were in complete syncopation. They understood how to work together and did it well—in the kitchen and in an emergency.

  The flames lowered, and the smoke grew thicker. They were winning as a team. The last of the fire extinguished.

  Together, the two of them put it out.

  Relief streamed through her, as if the white foam sprayed inside her bloodstream. She gaped at Michael and he returned her stare. Their gazes locked. His gray orbs glinted with the same relief. And something more. Something stronger.

  Her heart pattered. A renewed hope for them.

  He set down his fire extinguisher with a thud and opened his arms. To her.

  Her pattering heart picked up speed. Taking a deep breath, she coughed. She plopped the red canister down and went into his embrace, relishing the strength and comfort of his arms. Relishing being with him.

  “Why didn’t you evacuate?” His voice sounded raw and scratchy, and she couldn’t tell if it was from smoke or emotion. “You could’ve been injured.”

  Emotion about her?

  Her heart pattered again, blending hope with relief. “I was here when it happened. Why didn’t you evacuate?” She pulled back.

  His eyes dimmed and he scowled. “A captain doesn’t evacuate his ship, and a head chef doesn’t evacuate his kitchen.”

  “Neither does a sous chef.” She placed her head on his shoulder.

  His chef’s coat smelled of smoke and grease, but underneath was the essence of Michael. A familiar, welcoming, titillating scent.

  The stomp of boots had them separating.

  A group of firefighters entered the kitchen carrying a hose and other equipment. Their bright-yellow coats contrasted with their serious expressions. “Where’s the fire?”

  Parker peered behind the yellow-coated group. “Everyone okay?”

  “It’s out and we’re fine.” Michael took a step forward and shook both firefighters’ hands. “Thanks to Isabel’s quick thinking.”

  A warm, pleasant sensation sank into her. He’d given her credit, even though he didn’t know the full story. Surveying around, she wondered if the cameras were functioning or if the fire had caused them damage. She hoped for the latter. “And you, Chef.”

  “We’ll have to inspect the kitchen and the entire hotel.” The firefighter spoke into his walkie-talkie.

  “Will it inconvenience my guests?” Parker asked the captain, who took him aside and started explaining the process.

  “There’s a report of an injury?” The first firefighter asked.

  “Alfred.” A frisson of sympathy traveled her spine. His apron had been charred and his face red. She hoped he was okay.

  What had the new guy been thinking when he’d thrown water on a grease fire?

  “What happened?” The female squad leader leered at Michael as if he were a flame she wanted to get burned by.

  Even covered in soot, Isabel couldn’t deny he was hot.

  “A grease fire started,” she paused wondering if she should mention Alfred’s idiot move. His actions were already on film for the pleasure of reality television viewers. “One of our new staff members mistakenly threw water on the flames making it worse.”

  Michael speared her with a questioning glance. He wanted to know who was the idiot.

  “Alfred.”

  Shaking his head in a slow, should’ve-known-way, Michael’s non-verbal response told her more than words. Alfred must be an actor like Betsy. Isabel wasn’t surprised.

  “What’s the damage?” Parker must’ve been listening to their conversation.

  “Haven’t fully assessed the situation yet.” The female fighter nodded in the direction of the damage. “We need to make sure the entire hotel has been evacuated before starting the inspection.”

  “What about my guests?” Parker wrung his hands.

  “The fire doesn’t appear to be bad.” The firefighter’s statement didn’t console Parker. “It was contained in the kitchen. We still need to go room by room.”

  “Come on, Parker.” She put her arms around his shoulders and led him toward the back exit. “The sooner we get out of here, the sooner the firefighters can start and finish the inspection.”

  Michael followed behind them. “We’ll be able to serve dinner tonight, even down a stovetop.”

  “Modified dinner.” She swung her gaze to him. “We’ll need to change one of the specials.”

  He gave her a pleased-confident grin. “That’s my chef.”

  His possessiveness, his prideful boast, and his confidence caused her insides to glow. He wasn’t acting for the cameras. He believed in her and believed in their teamwork.

  Did he believe in them as a couple?

  * * *

  Isabel poured out the entire story to her brother Dax over Sunday dinner. How she’d always been attracted to Michael, how he’d stolen her job, and how they’d started a relationship. She’d also told him about the rejections she’d been getting, including the last one from Webber Resorts.

  She did not tell him about the reality television program or the fake flirtation, refusing to disclose Michael’s secrets. Plus, she couldn’t take the condescension or the you’re-so-stupid expression she’d get from Dax.

  Danielle had invited her to dinner at her house. With Michael. Isabel was still confused by his attitude. He’d been such a jerk before the fire. She needed space and advice. And she hadn’t spent quality time with her younger brother in a while.

  Her brother had listened attentively, drinking one beer after another. His cheeks had gotten redder and he glared. “He stole your job, Izzy.”

  “Michael didn’t know I was up for the position.” She defended him even now. “We’ve worked through that.”

  “Why are you applying for other positions?” Dax raised a sin
gle blond eyebrow, knowing she’d been upset about the need to apply and the rejections she’d received. “How did you work through that?”

  Heat went from her cheeks to her scalp. She wasn’t used to talking about her love life with her little brother. “Michael and I have an understanding.”

  “An understanding?” The eyebrow rose again.

  She wanted to smash his eyebrow into a permanent straight line. “Okay, we’re having a relationship.”

  There. It was out there.

  “I told you to crank up the heat in the kitchen, not sleep with the guy.” Dax sounded similar to her big brother, Reed. Protective and ready to defend. “What kind of relationship?”

  A flurry of doubt and confusion stormed in her head and in her chest. Making love meant something to her. Did it to Michael? He’d never been connected with anyone for any length of time. “I don’t know.”

  “If you don’t know what your relationship is, how can you have an understanding?” Dax mixed up her statements, jumbling her thoughts even more, riling her up.

  She understood what she wanted, needed. Did Michael?

  “Lopsided relationships are never easy.” Dax’s good advice surprised her, especially since he’d opened another beer. “What’s got you the most upset?”

  The unknowing. The uncommitted-ness. The unsureness of what they meant to each other. Her heart scraped raw with each thought. “The thing is, when Michael leaves Castle Ridge, I don’t think he’ll ask me to go with him.”

  That’s what tormented the most. They might be building a strong relationship now, but when he left, what would happen?

  “Do you want to leave town?”

  No. The instantaneous rejection jumped into her mind. And yet, living here without him wasn’t appealing, either. “I love living here.”

  Moving the empty beer bottles to the side, Dax slanted over the table emphasizing his point, showing he meant business. Or he couldn’t hold himself upright any longer. “Then, let him out.”

  Her entire body shivered. “What?”

  It wasn’t like Dax to give up so easily. She should talk to Michael first. See what he was thinking about for his future and their relationship. And yet, he never told her things in advance, let her know what he was thinking about his future, and theirs.