by Cara Dee
Dirty Chef
Cara Dee
Dirty Chef
Copyright © 2020 by Cara Dee
All rights reserved
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment and may not be reproduced in any way without documented permission of the author, not including brief quotes with links and/or credit to the source. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction and all references to historical events, persons living or dead, and locations are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and owners of any wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Edited by Silently Correcting Your Grammar, LLC.
Formatted by Eliza Rae Services.
Contents
Welcome to Camassia Cove
1. Alessia Rossi
2. Alessia Rossi
3. Alessia Rossi
4. Adam Grady
5. Adam Grady
6. Adam Grady
7. Alessia Rossi
8. Alessia Rossi
9. Alessia Rossi
10. Adam Grady
11. Adam Grady
12. Adam Grady
13. Alessia Rossi
14. Adam Grady
Epilogue
More from Cara
About Cara
Welcome to Camassia Cove
www.camassiacove.com
Camassia Cove is a town in northern Washington created to be the home of some exciting love stories. Each novel taking place here is a standalone, with the exception of sequels, and they will vary in genre and pairing. What they all have in common is the town in which they live. Some are friends and family. Others are complete strangers. Some have vastly different backgrounds. Some grew up together. It’s a small world, and many characters will cross over and pay a visit or two in several books—Cara’s way of giving readers a glimpse into the future of their favorite characters. Oh, who is she kidding; they are characters she’s unable of saying good-bye to. But, again, each novel stands on its own, and spoilers will be avoided as much as possible.
If you’re interested in keeping up with secondary characters, the town, the timeline, and future novels, check out Camassia Cove’s own website at www.camassiacove.com. There you will also see which characters have gotten their own books already, where they appear, which books are in the works, character profiles, and you’ll be treated to a taste of the town.
Dedication
Food.
And sex.
To sex and food.
One
Alessia Rossi
I grimaced and lifted Adam’s dirty underwear by the neck of a beer bottle. We needed to rethink the whole Alessia-cleans-and-Adam-cooks deal. One day off a week, and I was spending half of it picking up after him.
Who knew living with a forty-three-year-old man would prepare me for motherhood?
It would probably save me an hour if he could wait until he got to his room before he kicked off all his clothes, though he usually left the underwear on. Maybe our living room had simply become his laundry basket, and he threw it out of his room. It wouldn’t surprise me. He was a pig.
Said pig came through the front door five minutes later, sweating after his morning run.
I averted my gaze from an exposed torso, sweatpants riding low, and the cap he wore backward.
He’d taken off his hoodie at some point and was wiping sweat off his face with it. For the record, it was January and frigid outside.
“Fuck me,” he wheezed.
I snuck a peek as he removed his earbuds and tossed his ball cap on the couch.
“Hey!” I scowled. “Pick that up, you tool.”
He blinked and looked over at me. “You on the rag, love? No, that can’t be it. You have another week or so.” He jerked his chin at me. “What’s up?”
“This.” I gestured at the living room. “I’m sick of cleaning up after you. You’re such a slob.”
He frowned and eyed the room—the couch in the center of the space, the entertainment unit between the doors to our bedrooms, the table, the shelves, the kitchen behind me.
“It looks fine to me.”
Mannaggia, he drove me batshit. “Because I just tidied up,” I exclaimed. “I still have to vacuum, dust, and mop the floors.”
He grinned and walked over to me, only to land a loud kiss on my forehead. “I’ll make you forget this argument when I fix dinner tonight. It’ll be fucking spectacular.”
A heavy sigh escaped me, and I knew it was a battle that wasn’t worth winning. “I have a date tonight, so you’ll have to impress me some other time.”
Adam’s already sharp features tightened, and he took a step back. His gray eyes chilled, a contrast to the casual shrug he offered. “All right. Your loss.”
Nice.
“I’m gonna shower.” He started toward his room.
I narrowed my eyes at his retreating form. Fuck it, he could clean his own mess. I was done. Sooner or later, he was going to notice the piles of dirty clothes and garbage he left behind.
He may win verbal arguments most of the time, but he didn’t go up against my stubbornness willingly, and it was for good reason.
Wistfulness tightened my stomach as I put another pair of baby socks into my online cart. I didn’t begrudge Isla her happiness; in fact, I was bouncing off the damn walls with excitement for her fast-approaching due date. I just…wished I were there beside her with a baby on the way.
Baby fever sucked ass.
It’d struck once I hit thirty, almost overnight, a little over a year ago. I saw babies everywhere, and everyone was pregnant.
My readiness for children was something I kept to myself, mainly because my love life was a disaster.
It didn’t help that I was more interested in online shopping than the men I went out to dinner with every now and then.
I should be getting ready for my date, but I couldn’t tear myself away from all the adorable clothes for newborns on my laptop. Pinks, purples, yellows—I wanted to buy it all. I’d already purchased plenty of blues and greens, because we’d known Isla was expecting a boy for several weeks. Then, the other week, she’d felt iffy when she was in Florida, so she’d gone to see a doctor.
Okay, she’d been dragged there by her very overprotective fiancé. Jack was also Adam’s twin brother, and I had grown up with the Grady brothers’ ways. There were four of them, and if you didn’t learn, you didn’t make it.
It’d been a good thing, though. Because while at the doctor, they’d discovered a second little miracle hiding behind her brother. In a matter of a few short weeks, Isla and Jack would become parents to a boy and a girl.
My Visa bill cried.
It couldn’t be helped. Having been sort of adopted by the Grady family when I was a teenager, I’d expected nieces and nephews much sooner. They’d been in their mid-to-late twenties when I was fifteen; alas, it wasn’t until Jack met Isla and fell head over heels that the baby-making began.
My phone buzzed next to me on the couch, and I glanced down to see a text from Adam.
I had to let Miranda go home. She wasn’t feeling well. Can you cover for her?
“Maybe she’s pregnant.” I made a face and stuck out my tongue at the screen. Then I sighed and ran a hand through my hair as I looked at the clock above the flat screen. Fuck. I’d have to cancel on Garrett again.
I should be more upset over that, but I loved my job too much. I lived and breathed the restaurant Adam and I had started together.
It was likely the only baby I’d ever have.
I typed out a response to Adam.
I’ll be downstairs in t
en.
Adam was the same. We put so many hours into that place, and our dual career addiction wasn’t exactly treated by the fact that we lived together above the restaurant nowadays.
He wasn’t supposed to be working tonight either, yet we tended to find ourselves downstairs even on our days off.
We had the next goal all planned out, too. It was a small building; it used to be only one floor, but we’d taken out a cringeworthy loan to buy the property and build upward. Now it was a three-story building in white-painted brick, and not only had it given us a new home on the top floor, we had gained space to host cooking classes and eventually seat more guests at the restaurant. Best of all, we’d acquired full access to the courtyard in the back.
Before, we’d paid a shitload to rent space on the cobblestone sidewalk in the front when it was warm out. People wanted to sit where the sun shone. And now, this summer, we wouldn’t have to do that. Guests would be treated to a cozy dining area in the back that was all ours, not to mention free of traffic sounds and car fumes.
I couldn’t wait to get started on the courtyard this spring.
My body was buzzing with anticipation as I rushed to my room to get ready for work, and I almost forgot to let Garrett know we’d have to reschedule.
Coho Bar & Grill was our pride and joy. It was as rustic as it was state-of-the-art, as cozy as it was vibrating with life, and as casual as it was swanky. The old furniture and exposed brick walls and weathered floorboards made up the foundation on which we’d built. The grill was open behind the bar, facing the establishment to give the guests a glimpse of the magic Adam worked. Vines, bistro lights, and potted herbs hung from the ceiling, tealights floated in water-filled bowls on the tables, and the place was full most nights.
Whether it was guys’ night and a group of friends ordered burgers at the bar, or it was date night and a couple requested a table at the window where the seats were more like booths and had fluffy pillows everywhere, we catered to our town of Camassia Cove with a bone-deep love for what we did.
We just needed to bide our time so we could afford to decorate the expanded space we finally had. We’d recently reorganized the tables that filled the floor, but we couldn’t fit in more than fifteen tables. Hopefully, after a summer of guests filling up the courtyard too, we’d be on our way to being able to give this restaurant the second floor it deserved. The space right above us was already ours and waiting to be used.
Here, my heart was happy. I loved the rock music playing, I loved the snazzy iPad menus, I loved the evening specials written in chalk on the wall, I loved the smells, I loved… I let out a breath and watched Adam behind the bar, bobbing his head to the beat of the song as he threw something onto the grill that caused a ball of fire to light up the place for a second.
Tracy was our new guy. He seemed to like working alongside Adam, and it was mutual. Adam appreciated quick learners who cooked with their hearts.
The two had already created their own little routine to make kids cheer when we weren’t too busy. They’d toss ingredients to each other and put together meals with practiced ease, finesse, and speed.
Our two servers for the evening were busy taking orders on the floor, so I tied my apron around my hips and made my way behind the bar.
I was where people needed me. Serving, bartending, hostessing, preparing desserts—I loved every bit of it. Behind the scenes, where it was only Adam and me, we did most things together except for inventory and marketing. He hated that. I didn’t mind. I hated bookkeeping, so Adam handled that with our accountant.
“Okay, I’m here.” I smiled and got busy right away. Some empty plates had been left on the bar from three dudes who were here to drink beer and share appetizers.
As I passed Adam, he reached behind and gave my hand a squeeze while he bossed Tracy around.
I squeezed back, ignoring the flame that flickered to life and then died out again when his touch was gone.
We did have a kitchen in the back where the less glamorous prep took place, and Tracy was the one darting between the two workstations out there and in here. No one wanted to watch mac and cheese getting made or vegetables being chopped. Not to mention the dishes that piled up faster than Adam’s laundry.
Thank goodness we had Jon back there. He kept the kitchen running and took most of those shifts for himself. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d called in one of the others to cover for him.
Time flew behind the bar, and I spent the evening slinging drinks, chatting to guests—old and new—and helping Tracy when he needed a hand. We didn’t have the space or the manpower at this point to have an elaborate dessert menu, so we only had three items, and the butter cake was my one and only contribution. I assisted with the torch to burn the sugar on top as Tracy rushed to sprinkle bacon bits onto two servings of mac and cheese.
Dinner guests stopped arriving around nine, offering Adam a break to chug some water and eat.
“Sorry you had to cancel your date,” he said, sticking zucchini fries into his mouth.
“It’s fine,” I replied. I gave a smile to the guest ordering another beer. “That’ll be $6.50, sir.” While he swiped his card, I glanced back at Adam. “How do you feel about putting together a Valentine’s menu this year?”
We’d never done that before, and I thought it could be fun. We’d done Adam’s luxury steakhouse version of Christmas, Thanksgiving, Labor Day, and the Fourth of July. And, of course, we celebrated the apple harvest once a year with the rest of the town. Adam’s creations were particularly coveted that week. He was so fucking brilliant.
He chewed on some more food while he mulled it over, and I handed over the receipt to the guest in front of me.
“Maybe,” Adam answered pensively. “I’ll think about it.”
I nodded in acknowledgment and looked out over the place. No one seemed to be needing anything, so I poured myself a Diet Coke and took a breather.
“What was Griffin’s excuse today?” I asked.
Griffin was a friend of ours and the only one Adam trusted to fill his shoes at the grill every now and then. He was a great chef and owned a small franchise of food trucks in Seattle. But lately, he hadn’t been able to come up the few times Adam had given him a shift.
If Griffin had lived down in Seattle, it would’ve made more sense; it was a two-hour commute. However, his house was just twenty minutes outside of our little town.
“He was vague about it,” Adam said. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. He made a comment… I think he and Charlie broke up. Maybe.”
Oh. Okay. I felt for Griffin, though we’d sort of seen this coming. Charlie was a city boy, and Griffin wouldn’t settle down in Seattle if someone paid him all the money in the world.
“Let me know if you drive down to him,” I requested. “I’ll send along a care package.”
Adam’s eyes lit with warm amusement. “You’re too cute, love. You can take the girl out of Italy, but you can’t take Italy out of the girl.”
I gigglesnorted and rolled my eyes. I was fairly sure caring about my friends wasn’t strictly an Italian thing.
It’d been so long since I’d thought of Italy as my home. My dad was American and had been stationed at Aviano as a flight instructor with the Air Force, and if Adam and I lived and breathed our restaurant, my dad lived and breathed the service—and most of all, NATO affairs. And once he met my mom there, he’d done everything to stay.
Only a brief stint had brought my parents to the US. My English had been good, but the culture was foreign. In an attempt to give me a taste of an American upbringing, Dad had signed me up for a summer camp shortly before we were due to return to Italy. I’d shown up on an island off the coast of this little town called Camassia Cove, fifteen years old and clueless about life, and then this guy… I quirked a smile at Adam, who was telling Tracy something…
If only I’d known then that the heartache of a fifteen-year-old girl was nothing compared to the heartache of a thirty-one-year-old.
Adam had volunteered at the camp, burned out after a few hectic restaurant years in New York and Atlanta, and it was while preparing sloppy joes for teenagers that he’d come up with the idea for the place we ran today.
I’d been so fucking in love with him.
Of course, he’d barely noticed me. He’d been twenty-seven and focused on his job. But he’d been very nice. He’d always had a smile on his face, and he’d cheered me up at the end of my stay. He’d given me his super-secret recipe to the best s’mores in the universe.
Yeah, I’d never stood a chance.
Two
Alessia Rossi
“Your room always smells so fucking nice.”
The words slithered through the film of sleep, and I frowned and turned my head away from the noise. My cheek landed on the pillow. I let out a breath and waited to be sucked into the dream again.
“Alessia.”
Mmm.
The bed dipped, and I felt a hand on my back. Fuck, I wanted it to be the dream. In dreams, there was no stopping. Was it already time to get up? It couldn’t be. Adam was an early riser, but I was fully capable of setting my own alarm. My room was a no-boys-allowed zone, and he knew it.
“Wake up, love.”
“No,” I whispered. “I don’t think so. Leave me alone.”
He chuckled quietly and stroked my back, and that… That was glorious. I purred like a cat and stretched out under the sheet. I kept my room warm so I only had to use my ubersoft sheets, unlike Adam, who wanted it frigid so he could use a duvet.
