“Yeah I guess. We’ll keep our eyes peeled.”
“Great. I’ll check back later.”
Sarah disconnected and walked to the front door and peeked out, making sure that Raffe was nowhere in sight. She pulled out the wrinkled piece of paper that she had gotten from Kim when Raffe had been drinking with Dave.
She’d shown Kim the photo of Tommy, but Kim didn’t recognize him. She explained that not all the homeless people knew each other. They formed cliques and kind of stuck together. But she’d given her contacts and the local soup kitchens and day labor programs. She knew it was a long shot, but she wanted to call to see if Tommy had frequented any of these places.
The first number on the list went to voicemail. She left a message saying who she was and that she was looking for her brother. Not a great start.
The next number a real person answered after several rings. She described Tommy. No luck.
She continued to dial the numbers, getting more and more discouraged with each call.
After the last number, Sarah threw the phone on the sofa beside her. No one had seen Tommy. He probably wasn’t even on the island. He might never have come here. Probably spent the money she gave him on drugs. She was going to have to resign herself to the fact that she might never find him.
Time to start thinking about her own future. She rummaged in her tote bag and brought out a small notebook. Slumping down, she started to jot some ideas. What would she do once the contest was over? She could always go back to work for Jasper. He had promised her that, but she wanted more. Working all day cooking in the contest and seeing what she could accomplish had shown her that she wanted to work as a chef.
Would Raffe hire her on in one of his restaurants? Would that be awkward? They’d see each other all the time. Did she want that? Did he?
He was opening that new restaurant in New York. Maybe she should ask? She doodled the name EightyEight in the notepad as she tried to visualize what it would be like to be head chef in a new trendy restaurant. Running her own kitchen. Calling the shots. Definitely something to think more about.
She wasn’t yet ready to ask Raffe anything, though. She wanted to prove herself first, and she definitely didn’t want him giving her a job because he felt obligated. Speaking of which, she didn’t want Raffe to come back and ask what she was doing. Not to mention, she still had to clean the limes. She slapped the notebook closed. Better bury it in her bag so Raffe didn’t see it.
As she leaned over and shoved the notebook deep into her bag, her phone slipped under the couch cushion so quickly that she didn’t even notice.
15
Raffe carried the heavy bag stuffed with food from the community kitchen in his left hand, his right hand holding the phone pressed to his hear. On the other end was the general manager of his new restaurant, and he did not sound happy.
“Darren, I know Edward can be a pain in the ass, but he’s like family to me,” Raffe said. Apparently Edward had taken his task of overseeing the restaurant construction very seriously.
“Well, if you don’t rein him in, you’ll end up with things like tofu and bean sprouts on the menu instead of steak and swordfish. And don’t even get me started on the new kitchen design he insists on.”
Tofu? Since when did Edward like tofu? “What new kitchen design?”
“The old man wants us to move the prep stations over by the walk-in.” Darren sounded exasperated.
Raffe tried to picture how that would work. He’d designed the kitchen so the prep stations were at the furthest end of the kitchen, but it made sense to have them near the walk-in. If he’d learned one thing in the contest, it was that you wasted a lot of time running to the cooler when prepping food. Maybe Edward was on to something. “That’s not such a bad idea. Go with it.”
“Okay, you’re the boss, but that guy is driving me nuts.”
“I know. Don’t worry. I’ll be back next week, and you won’t have to deal with him anymore.”
“Not a moment too soon.” Darren disconnected.
Next week. The contest would be done, and Raffe would be back in New York overseeing the final outfitting of the restaurant. Where would Sarah be?
A gecko scurried over the hot stones in front of him as he shifted the bag to his other hand. The bungalow came into view, and a wave of anxiety washed over him. He hoped he’d chosen foods that Sarah liked.
Inside, Sarah was just finishing up at the sink. Two fresh glasses of lime and soda water sat on the counter.
“I hope this is what you wanted.” He opened the bag to show her what he’d chosen. Two plump free-range chicken breasts and an assortment of vegetables. “I’ll grill, you make the salad and sauce if that’s okay?”
“Sounds great.” Sarah handed him one of the drinks then grabbed a bag from the counter. “I put some paper plates, utensils, and condiments together.”
They headed out of the bungalow toward one of the charcoal grills at the edge of the beach in the shade of the palms.
It was just before sunset, the sky awash with pinks and purples that highlighted the aqua ocean. Humidity hung heavy in the air, disturbed only by a slight salty breeze that carried the soft sounds of live music from somewhere off in the distance. The tiki torches had been lit, casting a flicker of ambiance over the teak picnic table and benches near the grill.
Raffe fired up the grill while Sarah unpacked the bag.
“I made a lemon-pepper glaze that would be perfect on the chicken.” She took out a glass container filled with a yellow sauce dotted with sprinkles of black pepper, and a brush that she used to baste the chicken on the grill. The flames sizzled and jumped as glaze dripped into the fire.
Raffe put mushrooms, onions and zucchini, which he dotted with butter, in a foil pack, sealed it, and placed it on the grill.
The air soon filled with a tangy lemon barbecue scent, and Raffe stood back to sip his drink while Sarah finished the last of the basting.
“Hey, what happened to your finger?” He pointed at the bandage wrapped around the tip of her index finger.
“Oh, I cut it while slicing limes,” Sarah shrugged. “It’s just a little cut, probably be gone by morning.”
“I was surprised at how much food there was in the community kitchen that hadn’t been touched. I guess maybe after cooking under pressure every day no one else wants to cook for themselves except for us.” Raffe flipped the chicken and flames jumped. He grabbed one of the lemons Sarah had just cut up and squeezed it over the pieces.
Raffe knew Sarah hated to waste food based on the conversations she’d had with Kim and Dave about the homeless people. Sure, wasting the food was stupid, but he wondered why she was so into it. The show had a heavily stocked common kitchen for all the contestants to use for their personal meals. Sarah had asked a few crew members what they did with the extra food every day, but they all just shrugged.
“It’s a shame that all that food in the kitchen will go to waste,” Sarah said, pulling a red-and-white checkered tablecloth out of the bag she’d packed and grabbing two small rocks to place on either end of the picnic table so the breeze wouldn’t keep flapping the ends of the cover up.
“I’m glad we get to just chill and grill a casual meal. All that fancy cooking for the contests is grueling.” Raffe removed the chicken from the grill and placed it on plates, handing one to Sarah.
“Yeah, me too. I can’t believe how fast everything has moved so far.” Sarah pulled another container from the bag and pointed at the foil packs. “I made a balsamic glaze for the vegetables.
Raffe took the foil packs off, juggling them around as he tried to open the hot tinfoil with his fingers. Sarah laughed as he quickly tugged and then pulled his fingers back, dancing around and whistling, “Ouch! Oh! That’s hot!”
They dug in to the meal. Even though it wasn’t gourmet, it tasted pretty good to Raffe. His thoughts turned to the contest.
“A few more days and we will know if we walk away winners,” Raffe said. “Thanks
again for doing this. I never really asked you why you agreed to do it. I know you didn’t like lying about the engagement.”
Sarah didn’t look up from cutting into her chicken. “I actually didn’t know about that part. Marly only said it was a cooking contest and you needed a partner.”
“What? She never told you?”
“Nope. But by the time I found that part out, I was already committed. Plus, Marly and Jasper begged me to do it, and I figured the experience would help me take the next step in my career.”
So Sarah did want to move into a chef position. Thoughts of the kitchen at EightyEight flashed into Raffe’s mind. He needed several chefs. “I thought you liked working for Jasper.”
“Oh, I do. Jasper’s been great to me. But I don’t want to be an administrative assistant forever. I’ve been in culinary arts school for a few years now. So ultimately that’s what I would like to do.”
Raffe nodded. Jasper had told him that Sarah had been putting herself through school while she worked for him. It made sense that she wanted to win the contest just as much, if not more, than he did.
“Well, you definitely have impressed me with your skills. And I’m pretty sure everyone else has taken note of them too. I’m sure that when we get back you’ll have a ton of job offers. I just hope you remember us little people when you make it big.”
Sarah swatted Raffe’s arm, laughing. “Yeah, I’ll try to fit you into my schedule.”
Raffe laughed and felt awkward at the same time, wondering for the first time what it would be like between the two of them when they finished the show and went back to “real” life.
He knew they’d cross paths. Their best friends were getting married, but would they see each other more than they usually did? He hoped so. Should he tell her that? Thoughts of the friendly peck surfaced. No, he might seem too needy or something.
Sarah speared a piece of chicken and looked at him thoughtfully. “Your turn. Tell me why you did this. I mean, you own a bunch of successful restaurants, and I don’t think you want to be a chef. So what’s the reason?”
Raffe hesitated a moment, unsure if he wanted to open up to her. She cocked her head and widened her eyes. She’d told him her reasons, so it only seemed right for him to do the same.
“Well, I guess I just wanted to accomplish something on my own for once. I actually am interested in being a chef—well, having the same knowledge, anyway. In my restaurants I know the business side and am respected for that, but when it comes to the kitchen, the chef usually has the final say. I’d like to be able to manage the kitchen and have the background to back me up, you know? I would love to be able to teach them some things instead of the other way around. At times I feel they think I’m only there because of the family money. And I’m sick of carrying that around. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” Raffe looked down at his plate, unable to meet her eyes. “For once I want to achieve something that can’t be bought with my father’s money. Something all mine.”
“I think that’s great. I mean, if we win the Chef Masters competition then obviously your chefs will know that you know what you’re talking about. Just don’t consider putting any Peeps and M&Ms-themed desserts on your menus and you should be okay.”
They both laughed at that. Raffe shook his head.
“I’m still not sure who is trying to sabotage us. It’s pretty crazy if you think about it. But no one has tried anything the past two challenges, so maybe those really were accidents,” Raffe said.
“Maybe, but I still say we need to be on guard. I do not trust Veronica.”
“Yeah, good point. We’ll watch each other’s backs.”
Sarah smiled and nodded, holding Raffe’s gaze. His heart warmed at the special friendship forming between them.
They finished dinner and cleaned the area before heading back to the bungalow. Raffe wondered if he should suggest they go to the bar for a drink. Just as he was about to ask, Sarah made a suggestion.
“Should we watch a movie?” she asked, scrolling through the options.
“Sounds good.” Raffe rummaged in the refrigerator, coming up with a bottle of wine. He held it up to her. “Pinot Grigio?”
Sarah nodded. “Sounds good.”
Raffe grabbed two wine glasses and sat on the sofa. He opened the wine and poured both glasses.
“How about this?” Sarah paused at a horror movie.
“Don’t tell me you like horror movies?” Raffe wouldn’t have pegged her for the type, but then there were a lot of things about Sarah that surprised him.
“Like? No. Love? Yes! Especially the older ones. You know, Friday the Thirteenth, Halloween. Those types.”
“Texas Chainsaw Massacre. That’s the best. Because it’s based on a true story. And I mean the original movie, none of that remake bull,” Raffe said.
“You mean this Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” Sarah teased, pointing to the movie that was an option for the online movie selection.
“Yes! Let’s rent it.” Raffe settled back with his wine glass. There was something about sitting here with Sarah that felt comfortable. Homey. Maybe it came from cooking together, from the compatibility they’d achieved in the kitchen, but hanging out with her was effortless. Like hanging out with his best friend.
They watched the movie, laughing and screaming together throughout it, with Sarah at one point almost crying she laughed so hard. When the credits finally started rolling, Raffe was sad it was done.
“That was the most I’ve laughed in a long time,” Sarah said, wiping a tear from her eye.
“Me too.” Raffe turned to Sarah, happy. During the movie they’d moved closer to each other. Raffe’s arm was extended along the top of the sofa. Sarah right next to him. Close enough to kiss. Raffe inched even closer then dipped his head, capturing Sarah’s lips with his.
Her lips were soft and warm, and she kissed him back. He sensed a hesitation, though, and broke the kiss. “This was one of the most fun nights I’ve had in a while.”
“Umm, yeah, it was great.”
Raffe couldn’t read the tone in her voice. Had she liked the kiss or not? She didn’t slap him across the face, but she didn’t jump his bones either.
That was probably for the best. Because they both had to stay in the bungalow together and keep their act together for the rest of the contest, he decided to play it safe.
He touched the tip of her nose with his index finger then moved away. “Well, it’s late, so I guess I’ll use the bathroom first. We should turn in so we can be fresh for whatever they throw at us tomorrow,” he said, stretching and then standing.
“Yeah, good idea.” Sarah cleaned up the kitchen while Raffe used the bathroom. Then she took her turn while Raffe pulled out the sleeper sofa. He got between the sheets and lay there, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom.
Would she say anything? Come to him? Did he want her to? Things could get complicated, and he really didn’t need that. Plus, he sensed Sarah was the real deal. The kind of woman you took things slow with.
The bathroom door clicked open, and his heart skipped. He heard her footsteps shuffle into the hall then hesitate. Then she whispered, “Good night.”
“Night,” Raffe replied. And then Sarah closed the bedroom door, leaving Raffe and his thoughts alone.
16
TJ paced in front of his boss’s old metal desk, the floor squeaking under his sneakers. He’d been called in, but he had no idea why. He kept to himself for the most part, which wasn’t hard to do considering he typically worked the night shift. It was beyond busy all of the time, and there wasn’t much time for conversation.
So what could he possibly have done wrong? The only people he ever talked to were Gertie and that angry blonde. Maybe she had reported him for something.
“This is highly unusual, and there’s no protocol for it.”
“For what?” TJ asked, having no clue what his boss meant. Had someone seen him stealing that food a few days ago?
“Well,
you received a tip today. Someone left some cash in an envelope for you.”
“Huh? For me? Are you sure?” TJ asked, perplexed as to who would do such a thing. He was a dishwasher. No one really even knew him aside from the others who worked in the kitchen. Besides, this wasn’t exactly the type of gig where one received tips.
“Yes, I’m quite sure. It doesn’t have your name on it, but it does say, ‘For the skinny tall dishwasher.’ You’re the tallest dishwasher and definitely the skinniest. Here.”
TJ took the envelope and opened it. Inside were five crisp one hundred dollar bills. He looked up at his boss.
“I don’t get it. Why? I mean, I just wash the dishes around here.”
“Well, I don’t know either. Maybe you have a secret admirer or something. Put it in your pocket and don’t tell the others. I was torn between giving it all to you and splitting it between the kitchen staff. I opted to give it to you because it was meant for you. Now go along back to work.”
TJ walked out of the office, scratching his head. Who would give him five hundred dollars? That money was equal to almost three weeks of scrubbing pots and pans. The island paid extremely low wages. He put the money in his wallet and decided to just call it good luck.
17
Sarah stretched her arms above her head and grabbed her blue-and-white striped light cotton hoodie from the back of the chair as she tiptoed out of the bungalow. It was early, and Raffe was still asleep on the couch.
She’d had a great time watching the movie with Raffe. They’d laughed together, and she’d felt some sort of connection forming. And he’d kissed her! And not a friendly peck or a head-clonking kiss… a real kiss. But what did it mean? She’d been so stunned she hadn’t known what to do.
And then it was so awkward because they were living together. She wasn’t the kind of girl who jumped into bed after the first kiss. Was that what Raffe had expected? It had been hard to tell, but she’d thought she sensed a change in him after she’d come out of the bathroom and not hopped under the sheets with him.
Can't Stand the Heat (Corporate Chaos Series Book 2) Page 11
