by Emma Hart
“I’ll try.” He picked up the other half of the onion, and with an almost endearing uncertainty, peeled off the first two layers of skin. “That enough?”
I peered over. “One more. The last one can be tricky. You have to get your nail under it a little.”
He did as I said, frowning as he peeled off the last, pesky layer. “Now?”
“Now cut.” It was almost cute I was teaching a basically thirty-year-old man how to slice an onion…and watching him do it wrong.
God help me.
“No, no. You don’t slice across first. You slice into the onion.” I used my finger to show him the proper direction. “You have to hold the layers together, but not cut all the way into it.”
“Uhh…”
“Oh, Jesus Christ.” I took the knife, and beckoning him to stay still, did two cuts to show him. “There. See? The onion is still together, but it’ll dice easier when you cut across it.”
“Like this?” He covered my hand with his and forced it into the onion correctly.
“Yes,” I managed to get out.
“Uh-huh.” He did it again, this time moving his body so he was almost completely behind me, his solid chest pressing against my back.
My ass was pretty much tucked against his groin, and I swallowed hard, willing my body not to react the way I knew it so easily could.
“Is this right?” he asked, slicing into it perfectly.
“Perfect,” I eked out.
Tingles ran up and down my arm.
“Now…the other way.” My throat was dry.
His arm muscles flexed against me when he twisted the onion and moved to cut it. My hand was still on the knife, trapped beneath his, and every time he exhaled, his breath fluttered my hair.
He sliced it perfectly.
It hit me.
He’d played me, and I’d fallen for it. I’d played right into his hands, getting in this position and so easily allowing him to basically wrap his body around mine.
“Is that done?” he said in a low voice, his mouth right by my ear.
I nodded. My heart thundered in my chest, skipping a beat when he used my hands to scoop up the onion and drop it into the pot.
Never. Never had I ever thought that cutting an onion could be sexy.
“Now what?” he asked, lips still in the same spot, except this time, they almost brushed against my earlobe.
“Mushrooms,” I whispered. “And the ring needs turning on.”
He leaned over the stove and turned on the ring that had the pot on it before reaching for the mushrooms and opening the packet. “How many?”
“Five. Maybe six.”
“How do you cut them?”
I swallowed. “Slices.”
“Show me.”
I should have said no. I should have told him that if he didn’t know how to slice mushrooms at his age, then he had no chance of being able to cook anything successfully.
But, I didn’t. The pressure of his body against mine was too sweet. The way his breath tickled my hair and skin was too warm—it felt too good, all the time.
The way his fingers curled around mine on the knife handle sent too many shivers through me.
Yet, I couldn’t change it. I couldn’t say no and push him away and make it stop.
So, I sliced the mushroom, and when I grabbed the second, he took hold of the knife.
My chest was tight. My lungs wanted more air, but I had to fight it. There was no way I was going to make it even more obvious to him that I was going crazy inside. That he was sending my body into a tailspin of lust and desire that reverberated through every vein, mixing with a shot of adrenaline into a heady mix that defied logic.
He only released me to stir the chicken and pasta, something I’d forgotten about.
How could I remember how not to burn things when I was burning up myself?
How could I cook that, when the only thing that was cooking was my own damn insanity?
He’d got what he wanted, and right now, he was winning the battle, but my God—he would not win the war.
He could think he would, but I wasn’t going to kiss him.
Not tonight.
Not ever again.
I didn’t care how much I wanted to. I didn’t care how hard my heart beat around him or how many times I had to clench my legs together because the ache in my clit was unbearably uncomfortable.
I didn’t care.
Not one bit.
He turned his face into my hair. “Is that everything?”
I nodded, my eyes darting from the pasta pan to the pot with the chicken. “It all just needs stirring now. Until the sauce.”
“Do you make the sauce?”
I turned my head back to look at him. Which was a mistake, because there was barely any space between us. One wrong move and my lips would be on his.
“No,” I said slowly and softly. “You burned pasta. One thing at a time, Gordon Ramsey.”
His lips twitched. Those gray eyes of his sparkled with silent laughter, and I turned around fully, gripping the overhanging edge of the countertop and standing on my tiptoes.
“You knew how to cut that onion, didn’t you?” I asked quietly.
He nodded, his mouth now firmly in a smirking curve.
“And the mushrooms.” I didn’t bother asking this time.
“I said I can’t cook, not that I can’t cut.” He lifted his hand to the side of my face and, after a brief hesitation, ran his fingers through my hair, leaving it to fan out as he reached the ends. “I thought you were supposed to be the strong one out of us.”
“I’m the stupid one,” I corrected him. “I genuinely thought you were that useless in the kitchen.”
His laugh was quiet but deep, a genuine one that make goosebumps pop up on my arms. He rested his hands on the countertop next to me, his thumbs brushing across my little fingers, and he leaned forward just enough that I could feel his breath ghosting across my lips.
“Clumsy and easy to fool,” he murmured. “How have you made it this far in adulthood?”
“I’m smart and scrappy,” I breathed. “I could probably survive an apocalypse.”
“After you’d fallen over a tree root or stubbed your toe on a rock.” He lifted one hand to the side of my face. Slowly, he slid it around the side of my neck until his fingertips tickled the base of my scalp.
Shivers shot down my spine.
“At least I’d be able to eat.” My voice was no more than a whisper, because his mouth was right there, barely an inch away, and my eyes were fluttering shut.
I could feel his lips.
There. Teasing mine. Seeing how far he could go before I’d stick to my guns and not kiss him.
He didn’t have to go far.
“Shit!” I pushed him away and yanked the pot off the stove ring. “Goddamn it!”
The chicken was burned. We hadn’t stirred it because he’d distracted me from what I was supposed to be doing.
Like not burn the goddamn chicken.
“Fuck it.” I ran my hand through my hair. “It’s screwed.”
“Maybe we could…Oh, never mind.” Jake wrinkled his nose and stepped back from it. “I thought you said you could cook.”
“I don’t usually have a hot guy distracting the hell out of me!” I dumped the pasta into the strainer in the sink and let the pan fall into the other side with a slam. “Well, this wasn’t a mess at all.”
Jake leaned against the table, grinning, with his thumbs hooked through his belt loops. “Shall I order a take-out?”
I sighed and looked at him. “You’re gonna have to. I don’t have any more pasta.”
Chapter Seventeen
Upside#17: The only person who gets hot in your kitchen is you.
Lillie eyed me as I walked into the hotel. “Late night?”
“No. A sleepless one.” I leaned against the counter, clutching my purse strap up onto my shoulder and keeping a tight hold of my coffee and donuts. “Anything I need to be aware of?”
“Quinn’s sick and the bar order needs doing again.”
I dropped my forehead onto the top of the desk. “No, no, no, no,” I moaned. “I hate that order.”
“I know, but you know if Harley does it, it’ll just get all fucked up.”
“I know,” I moaned again. “But I hate it.”
“What do you hate?” Jake wandered up to the counter and rested his arm on it.
Lillie turned to him with a big smile and pushed her hair away from her face. “The bar order.”
He raised his eyebrows and turned to me. “Where’s Quinn?”
Well, damn. He remembered her name.
“Sick,” I replied, turning my head to the side.
“Who’s supposed to do it in her absence?”
“Harley. But, she’s not the best at it,” Lillie added lightly.
She was also understating quite a lot…
He looked at her. “Isn’t there anyone else who can do it? I have something I need Mellie to do today, so she doesn’t have the time.”
“You do?” I asked. “What?”
His eyes met mine. “I’ll tell you in a minute. Where is Harley?”
I looked to Lillie.
She peered at her watch. “She should be behind the bar restocking. If not, she’ll be in the storeroom.”
Jake nodded once. “Are you coming?” he asked me.
“I, uh, sure.” I shrugged, standing up straight. “I guess.” I shot Lillie an uncertain look and followed Jake toward the bar.
“Why can’t she do the order?” he asked quietly, leaning into me.
I shrugged again. “I don’t know, honestly. She’s not the newest, but she’s the most full-time except for Quinn. For some reason, she just can’t get it right.”
“Why? What does she keep messing up?”
“The counts, mostly. I don’t think she pays enough attention to what she’s doing.”
“Right.” He stepped in front of me and, adjusting the collar of shirt, walked around the side of the bar. “Harley?”
A scream came from the floor—then a smash.
Jake looked at me. “Don’t say a word,” he mouthed, pointing at me.
I hid a smile and looked down.
“Harley?” he tried again, this time a lot softer.
“Hi.” She stood up, wiping her hands on her skirt and blushed. “Um, hi. Sorry. You scared me. Nobody usually comes in here this early.”
Jake gave her a half-hearted smile. “You should probably sweep that glass up.”
“Oh. Right. Of course.” She laughed nervously and grabbed the dustpan and brush from under the bar. She bent down to sweep it up and dropped the glass into the small trash can. “I’ll mop that up in a second. What’s up?”
“The order needs to be done today, and I’m sure you’re aware that Quinn called in sick,” he started.
She swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. She texted me this morning.” She fiddled with a loose thread on her shirt, looking down like she already knew where this was going.
“I’m going to need you to do the order this week. I have a couple things I need Mellie to do, so she won’t have time to look it over.” His tone was no-nonsense. “So, I’ll need you to make sure it’s accurate.”
Her gaze went wild, like a kitten on catnip, almost. “Um, sure, okay. I can do that.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Harley, I’m not going to lie, but you’re not filling me with confidence that you can do this.”
“I usually mess it up,” she admitted.
Jake leaned forward, one hand on the bar. “Then, don’t.” He turned to me. “Mellie, shall we?”
I gave Harley a sympathetic smile and followed him back to the office. “That was a little…blunt,” I said when he’d shut the door behind me. I put my coffee and donuts on the desk and sat down, sitting my purse on the floor. “You could have been a little nicer.”
Jake dropped into his chair. “No offense, Mellie, but you being nice is why she’s unable to do the order. She knows that either you or Quinn will pick up the slack if she gets it wrong.”
I couldn’t argue with that. He was right. I’d been too soft on her as her boss. Instead of arguing, I sighed.
“This is the reason I started the employment review process. If doing the order in Quinn’s absence is part of her job, then she has to be able to do it.” He shrugged a shoulder and reached for a take-out cup of coffee on his side of the desk. “It’s not your job to do it, just to place the order.”
Once again, he was right.
“I know. What happens if she messes up?”
He met my eyes. “Then the roles have to be reviewed for the bartenders. If she can’t do it, we’ll get someone who can.”
“You’d fire her?”
“No. I’d switch her job role with another member of staff who is capable of doing the order without needing their hand holding. The renovation starts next week, and I need at least some of these guys to be able to do their jobs right.”
It made sense. I didn’t necessarily like it, but it was the right thing to do. “Okay. Fine. I don’t like it, but fine.”
“Don’t tell them you don’t like it.”
I pulled my donuts out. “But that ruins the good cop, bad cop thing we have going on, doesn’t it?”
“We don’t have a cop thing going on.”
“Oh, we do. You trying to cop a feel.” I looked at him pointedly and bit into my donut.
He held his hands up. “Don’t blame me if you couldn’t see through my ruse. And I didn’t try to cop a feel—if I wanted to, you’d have been putty in my hands.”
“You’re dreaming again,” I said, biting into the donut again. “Not true.”
Shaking his head, Jake sipped from his coffee. “You were almost putty. Admit it.”
“Even if it were close to being remotely true,” I said, “I would never admit it.”
“Because it’s true.”
“It’s not true!” I slammed my hand down right as the office phone rang. I snatched it up. “Mellie Rogers.”
“Um, Mellie,” came Harley’s tentative voice. “There’s a problem.”
I sat bolt upright. “What is it?”
Jake frowned. “What?” he mouthed.
I hit the speaker button. “Harley. What’s the problem?”
Jake covered his face with his hand.
“Um.” She paused. “I was counting the tonic waters, and when I moved the top crate, it was wet, and…”
“Oh no.”
“It slipped out of my hand and smashed.”
It was my turn to put my hand over my face. “We’ll be right there. How far into the order did you get?”
“That was the first thing I was going to count,” she replied.
Jake sighed. “Leave the storeroom and go back to the bar. Call Rosa and ask if someone can run down to clean it. Mellie and I will do the order together this morning. But, be aware that we’ll be having a meeting with Quinn when she returns.”
I swear, I heard her gulp.
“Okay. I’ll find Rosa now.” She hung up. The line buzzed, filling the room with the awful sound, and I put the phone back on the unit before it annoyed me too much.
“Tell me one thing,” Jake said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How has this hotel been able to run with two complete klutzes working here?”
That was an excellent question.
***
“Is that everything?”
I looked at the order form. It’d taken almost an hour to make sure the storeroom was completely clear of tonic water and glass from the bottles.
That was trickier than you’d think and didn’t count the hours we’d spent actually doing the stock intake.
“I think so,” I said, cringing at the extra-large number of tonic water we needed to order thanks to Harley’s mishap.
“So, explain to me.” Jake leaned against the side of the storage rack. “Why that’s so hard for her?”
I shrugged a
nd tapped the pen against the clipboard. “I don’t know. It’s not rocket science to count the bottles and see what we need more of.”
“Like a hundred extra bottles of tonic,” he muttered.
“Like a hundred extra bottles of tonic,” I echoed. “Well, this is done. I can go and place it now.”
“Finally.” He pushed off the unit. “Here. Give me the keys. I want to check the floor for any remaining glass then I’ll lock it behind us.”
I dug the keys out of the pocket of my skirt and handed them to him. “Okay. I’ll see you back in the office?”
“Sure.”
I left him in the storage room and went back up to the office, making a quick detour to check on Harley. She’d been pretty shaken when I’d seen her on the way to the storeroom, mostly because Jake’s way of telling her that her job would be changing was quite terrifying, and the poor girl probably thought she was about to be fired.
Thankfully, she seemed to have returned to normal when I’d seen her.
I sighed as I sat down at my desk. I was already tired of today, but mostly because I was realizing just how right Jake was.
The most annoying part was how the review thing was right. I’d been way too lenient with the bar order situation. Mostly because I hadn’t ever followed up with Quinn that she’d been covering it with Harley, because she obviously hadn’t.
“What are you thinking about?” Jake hovered in the doorway.
I looked up. “Did you find any glass?”
He shook his head. “The girls did a great job of cleaning the floor. Now, what’s up?”
“I was just thinking,” I said slowly. “About the review system.”
“Here we go,” he muttered, shutting the door.
“No, it’s not bad.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “It’s—you’re right,” I said after a moment. “You’re right.”
He narrowed his eyes, coming over to me. “Did I just hear you tell me I’m right—twice?”
“You sure did.” I slumped forward onto the desk. “You’re right, Jake. I’ve been too relaxed when it comes to stuff being perfect around here. I should have made sure Harley knew how to do the order. I should have made sure Quinn had taught her it correctly and followed up after I knew she couldn’t do it.”
“That’s why you have a face like a smacked ass?”
