Dirty Chef

by Cara Dee

  I was fairly sure she could feel the effect she had on me right now.

  She didn’t say anything, and I didn’t care. Nobody knew her body language better than me. She relaxed a bit, and her eyes became hooded with lust. One day, Jesus Christ, I was gonna make sure she knew what she did to me. What she’d done to me—for over a decade.

  “You wanna lose the panties for me?” I flicked the tip of my tongue at her upper lip, and she exhaled shakily. “I’m gonna get you off either way.” To prove my point, I pushed the fabric aside and slid my middle finger inside her. She bit her lip. Her eyes fluttered closed. “Your choice, love. Either I suck on your sweet clit through the panties or—”

  “Oh God—okay, okay.” She swallowed audibly and squirmed her way out of the damn underwear.

  I took the opportunity to flip her over onto her back, and I gave her no warning before I got comfortable between her thighs and I buried my tongue in her.

  “Fuck!” she cried out.

  Eleven

  Adam Grady

  Another thing we’d have to work on: waking up together.

  Emphasis on together, because I was alone when I woke up.

  I yawned and scrubbed at my face, and then I glanced around to find the nearest clock. The woman didn’t have an alarm clock on her nightstand.

  She did, however, have a regular clock on the wall above the door, and my eyes almost bugged out. Holy shit, I hadn’t slept this late since I’d worked in New York.

  11:35 a.m.

  I groaned as I left the bed. Christ. If Alessia were here now, she’d poke fun at me for my “old-man noises.” Rotating my shoulder, I trailed out of her bedroom, naked as the day I was born, and there was no sign of Alessia in the living room or kitchen either. All right, I’d track her down somehow. Maybe she was downstairs. I had to prepare the rest of the food for Grady Night tomorrow, and she’d said she wanted to make the dessert.

  After locating my phone and seeing there were no messages on it, I fired off a quick text to Alessia.

  I woke up alone, and now I gotta shower alone too. This is fucked up.

  I tossed my phone on my bed and headed into my bathroom.

  I frowned as I checked my phone on the way out the door.

  Still no response.

  I twisted my ball cap backward and wondered if anything was wrong. She’d told me there were no regrets. Hell, we’d fucked twice before crashing, completely exhausted. She’d been all snuggled up and buck naked in my arms where she belonged.

  Before the screen on my phone went dark again, I saw it was past noon, and a thought hit me.

  She wouldn’t.

  I hurried inside again and stalked into the kitchen where I checked our monthly schedule.

  Garrett, 11:30, Lunch.

  I refused to believe it. Not after the night we’d shared. The woman was all heart, and she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

  I was her favorite fucking fly, goddammit.

  My phone buzzed, and I instantly thought it was her. But it was Tracy.

  Hey. At the restaurant starting prep for tonight. You on your way? I didn’t know Alessia was seeing anyone. Must be serious if she’s meeting him here.

  I let out a laugh. I didn’t even know why. My insides twisted with nausea and anger, all while I had a voice going on repeat in my head. She’s a good person, she’s a wonderful person, she’s a motherfucking sweetheart. There had to be a misunderstanding.

  But no matter what, she wasn’t gonna date some asshole in our restaurant. She wasn’t gonna date anyone, period. She was gonna take my last name and be done with all those dating apps.

  What on earth was running through her head? Did she think I’d only want one night or some shit?

  I shook my head and stalked out again, slamming the door shut after me, and then I was jogging down the stairs and building up the mother of all speeches.

  Not wanting to barge in like a lunatic, I exited the building through the back and went next door. It was the entrance to our kitchen and would allow me to sneak up on her instead—like a normal person.

  I unlocked the door and came through the small entryway, and I found Tracy in the kitchen with a bunch of crates filled with vegetables.

  “There you are.” He cocked his head at me. “You usually come the other…” He gestured toward the dining area, then went, “Ah. Never mind.”

  “She out there right now?” I asked tightly.

  He nodded, confused.

  I clenched my jaw and walked over to the door, where I could peer out the round window. And fuck. Yeah. She was there, all right. In the empty dining area, she was legit treating this motherfucker to a private date. No. Get your shit together. She wouldn’t. I growled under my breath.

  I assessed the situation as well as I could from this angle, and all I could see was the two of them. The bar blocked their table.

  Why was she sitting with him?

  Just tell him to piss off.

  I glanced back at Tracy. “Are they eating? Has she cooked?”

  We did serve lunch some days, but today wasn’t one of them. If they were eating, if this was a legit date, she must’ve prepared food for them. Unless he brought it. Regardless, it infuriated me.

  Tracy shrugged. “I don’t know. I just got here a little while ago. I saw she wasn’t alone out there, so I didn’t bother them.”

  He should’ve.

  Fuck.

  I was seriously trying my hardest to stay rational here, but the girl wasn’t making it easy for me.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d been jealous because of something Alessia did, though things were different now. Right? Yesterday had changed it all. Even though we definitely had shit to hash out, I had some say. This was us. We weren’t strangers who’d been on their first date.

  Maybe you should consider the dumb-ass rep you’ve tried to uphold in front of her.

  I flinched.

  What’d once seemed like a brilliant plan to make sure she didn’t think I was practically her personal stalker didn’t seem so smart anymore. What did she even think of me? She thought I’d slept around like a dog. She’d joke about my manwhoring ways without having a single clue of the truth.

  She also believed I didn’t want a family, because up until yesterday, that’d been the case. I’d never wanted the stereotypical version of a family, which I’d made abundantly clear, but I hadn’t thought there was an alternative.

  I was an idiot.

  So was she, in my wounded opinion. She shouldn’t be with that dick.

  I couldn’t stop myself. I pushed the door open and walked straight out into the dining area, and Alessia glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened.

  Did someone feel caught?

  “Adam. What’re you doing here?”

  I eyed the guy she was with and wanted to scoff. He wasn’t her type. He looked entirely too wholesome and plain. Alessia needed a man who could challenge her, a man with a strong voice, someone who didn’t act like a doormat. ’Cause she’d walk all over a man like that.

  “I’m one of the owners,” I said and faced Alessia again. “Is that enough?” I didn’t wait for her response. Instead, I dragged a chair from a nearby table and joined them. “This looks cozy.” They were having coffee.

  “What the hell do you think you’re up to?” Alessia asked under her breath. News flash, we could both hear her just fine.

  The blond dude cleared his throat and jerked a thumb over his shoulder, gesturing at the exit. “Maybe I should…”

  “Best idea I’ve heard all day,” I agreed and stared at him.

  “No.” Alessia was pissed. She threw her napkin on the table and stood up. “We’ll both leave. Garrett, let’s go.”

  I gnashed my teeth.

  Was she serious?

  I thought I was gonna blow my fuse when I watched them leave. They were fucking leaving! He opened the door for her, and she stepped out before retrieving her keys so she could lock the door. She wasn’t wearing her coat. />
  I sat there, floored.

  What the fresh hell?

  She’d walked out. With another man.

  The anger took over completely, and I marched out to the kitchen again.

  Fuck rhyme and reason, fuck giving her the benefit of the doubt.

  “Hypothetically speaking,” I snapped, “say you hook up with a woman—”

  “Gross,” Tracy noted and furrowed his brow. “You okay, boss?”

  I ignored the question and summoned whatever patience I had left. “Say you hook up with a dude—better? You get along great. Maybe you’re in business together. Maybe you’re best friends. Then, the day after, she—he—goes on a date with someone else. Would you flip your lid?”

  Tracy offered me a lazy grin.

  So I felt the need to repeat, “Hypothetically speaking.”

  He snorted at that. “Well, hypothetically, I’d be pissed. Kinda like you are right now. So I suggest you talk to her because maybe there’s a misunderstanding. Also, congratulations. I’ve been rooting for you two—hypothetically.” He smiled.

  I rubbed the back of my neck. All this made me feel queasy. “Thanks,” I murmured distractedly. It went without saying that I would talk to her later, but right now, I was gonna stew in my anger and get some work done. I didn’t think what she’d done was right, and it stung.

  I twisted my cap and trailed over to the fridges in the back.

  By the time Alessia returned half an hour later, I was reaching my boiling point. So was the water for the pasta I was making. It didn’t help that I had both Griffin and Tracy bitching at each other at the prep station behind me. I contemplated heading out to the grill to work there, but Griffin would need my workstation there soon.

  She didn’t greet anyone, just walked over to the sinks and washed her hands.

  I dumped the pasta in the big pot, then moved over to stir the marinara. This was an extra that I brought for my pop. Spaghetti, marinara, and the meatballs I’d learned to make in Italy. They were a fantastic mix of salsiccia, ground beef, ground pork, egg yolk, breadcrumbs, garlic, and herbs. Something he could microwave and eat when Ma wasn’t home.

  Alessia tied a short apron around her hips and had no choice but to pick the only workstation that was left. The one next to mine.

  She wanted to play the silent game? Fine by me.

  I bent over to check the vegetable skewers I was roasting in the oven.

  Everything would be taken out of the oven or off the stove approximately ten minutes before it was done. That way, I’d only need half an hour or so to finish it all at my parents’ place tomorrow.

  Except the brisket. The brisket was already done and waiting in the freezer. Which reminded me, I had to pack a couple Wilton tips for the sauce dispenser. I’d told Ma I could get her a set of her own, but it was too “modern” for her to use anything other than a regular gravy boat.

  In the corner of my eye, I saw Alessia sneaking a furtive glance at Griffin and Tracy. Then her gaze flicked my way, and she twisted her mouth and stepped closer.

  “What you did was totally uncalled-for,” she said quietly.

  I snorted and side-eyed her. “Are you fucking kidding me?” This wasn’t the straightforward communication I’d been aiming for, but she’d caught me in a moment when I had no desire to be mature. What she’d done burned, and we weren’t alone. “Excuse me.” I motioned for the cutting board where I’d set the bowl of baby potatoes I’d washed.

  She sidestepped and glared at the floor. “You know what, I’ll just start the dessert.”

  “You do that,” I drawled.

  Fuck.

  I blew out a breath and glanced over at Griffin and Tracy. For once, they were working in silence. Probably because they were nosy as shit and listening in.

  “What was that, Adam?” Tracy said in a high-pitched voice. “Oh, you love me? I love you too!” Then he made kissing noises.

  I shot him a murderous look over my shoulder and noticed Alessia do the same.

  Where are you? You wanna be pissy, that’s fine, but don’t stay out all night without letting me know you’re safe.

  I pressed send and threw the phone next to me on the couch, so fucking annoyed that I couldn’t sit still.

  I’d spent the day cooking, first downstairs—preparing everything for tomorrow—and then up here to finalize the Valentine’s menu. No sign of Alessia. She’d taken off after making the foundation of a chocolate truffle cake that she’d decorate in the morning, and I hadn’t seen her since.

  I bit at a cuticle and tapped my foot restlessly against my knee. I hadn’t even bothered turning on the TV. I couldn’t focus anyway.

  My phone buzzed, and I flipped the phone to see her name on the screen.

  I was going to text you. All night? It’s eight o’clock, Adam. Don’t push me. I’m still mad. I’m hanging out with Isla until I’ve calmed down enough to face you.

  I chuckled bitterly and typed out a reply.

  You’re mad? You went on a date five seconds after waking up next to me. If you wanna see what mad is, come home.

  I didn’t put down my phone, ’cause I could see she was typing.

  It wasn’t a damn date! What are you talking about? Don’t be an asshole. I told you I was gonna tell him that I didn’t want to see him anymore. God, you’re so fucking frustrating! You don’t have to push me away. You’re not the relationship type of guy. I get it. I was prepared for this.

  That text was the biggest gut punch today. What did she mean by that? Not a relationship type of guy—she couldn’t possibly place herself in the category of chicks I’d stopped seeing because of her. Even when she was dating others, I could never keep up the charade for long.

  I’d spent years and years fooling others, but never myself.

  Regardless of our fighting, I couldn’t let her think I didn’t want a relationship with her. I was demanding one.

  I sent her a last message.

  You could not be more wrong. Come home when you’re ready to talk about this like adults.

  I jolted awake and squinted around the living room. Jesus Christ. I yawned and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. What time… It was dark in the apartment, so Alessia must’ve come home. The only light left on was a small lamp on the entertainment unit.

  Shit. One in the morning. She hadn’t woken me up when she returned.

  That irritated me.

  I hated fighting with Alessia.

  Correction, I hated not resolving the fights quickly. We were actually champs at fighting. We both got heated and took our frustrations out on each other, but we didn’t mind it. Neither of us was too proud to admit it when we were wrong, and we didn’t hold grudges.

  What I despised was going to bed angry.

  I shouldn’t have fallen asleep on the couch.

  I grunted and stood up, then walked over to Alessia’s door and listened to hear if she was up and walking around. I doubted it. I couldn’t hear anything, anyway.

  I knocked quietly.

  “Alessia?”

  No response.

  I carefully twisted the doorknob and opened the door. She’d fallen asleep with the light on her nightstand on. The sheets rode low and were twisted around one of her legs. Her back was exposed, and so was her other leg. She’d drawn it up a bit, revealing her thigh too.

  Did she have to be so goddamn gorgeous?

  My gaze traveled across her room, and I took in the differences between us. She was neat; I wasn’t. She cared about matching colors and things like flowers and candles; I didn’t. Her room was tidy and nice. Simple. Bed at the center, two nightstands, a chair in the corner with some clothes over the back, pictures on the walls… Pictures of us, mostly.

  I had those too. Okay, I had two pictures in all, but both had her in them.

  Alessia turned a room into a home. She was the heart of our restaurant.

  She was everything.

  I sighed and walked into her room to turn off the light. And to get a glimp
se of her face. She slept on her stomach, her wavy hair fanned out.

  I lifted a lock of her hair and twisted it gently around my fingers.

  Creep.

  I let go and flicked a glance at the lamp, and I— What was that…

  There was a note on the nightstand that had her nickname for me on it. I couldn’t not read it.

  Good morning, tesoro

  You look so peaceful when you sleep, and I admit I watched you a bit. I don’t want to wake you up, but I have to step out. Before anything happened between us, I made plans with someone. A date. Sounds so wrong now. But since I’ve already canceled on him twice, I want to at least apologize in person. I changed our lunch plans to coffee, though. It shouldn’t take long. Then I hope we can talk…? Last night meant everything to me.

  Yours, Alessia

  I set down the note again and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Last night meant everything to me…

  She’d left the note on the side of the bed I’d fallen asleep on, too. Then I’d rolled toward her side, only to find it empty. From there, I had left the bed and walked out.

  I was the dumbest motherfucker on the planet.

  Twelve

  Adam Grady

  It was time for bold gestures.

  I was up with the sun the next morning, and first I drove up to Westslope to pay a visit to Jameson. If I bought him coffee, he offered to meet me out of the sticks, an offer I couldn’t refuse. He lived in the middle of the forest, and I was short on time.

  Westslope was the biggest district in Camassia. The smallest section was right before the bridge, and it consisted of a couple diners, the worst pizza place in the continental US, a church, a school, and a strip mall. It was a cluster of lumberjack civilization before the forest took over, and that was where I met up with my youngest brother.