Dirty Chef

by Cara Dee

  The baby of the Grady family was over forty, but that didn’t stop him from acting like a child before his first caffeine hit.

  He looked like he’d had a rough night. Though, knowing him, it was of the kinky variety.

  “Do you own any sweats that don’t have a stain or a hole in ’em?” I asked, holding the door to the diner open for him.

  He grunted and lifted a pierced brow. “Strange question comin’ from the family redneck.”

  I let out a laugh.

  He didn’t know what a redneck was.

  No more words were exchanged until we were seated in a booth and he’d taken the first sip of his shitty coffee.

  I stuck to a bottle of water, as I was a man with standards.

  Sometimes it was weird to think he got along best with our oldest brother. Alex was a businessman who rocked Armani on the clock. But the two had a good dynamic; they lived together—and not alone. Fuckers had their own kinky harem. It was them, two girls, and another guy.

  “Okay.” Jamie stifled a yawn. “Ask your favor.”

  “I want you to bring your guitar tonight,” I said. “There’s a couple songs I’d like you to play.”

  “Ouch!” I withdrew my hand and scowled at the scratches along my arm.

  The little shit had drawn blood.

  The lady who worked at the shelter smiled sheepishly.

  Sorry, that was a no go. I’d been on the fence walking in here but figured women loved kittens and puppies… Yeah, no. There was no space or time in our life for a cat. I’d have to go with Plan B, which I thought was better anyway. So I left the shelter and the lethal fur ball behind, and I drove over to the furniture store I’d seen coming off the exit to the Valley.

  On my way into the store, I sent Alessia a text.

  When was the last time I had my tetanus booster?

  It wasn’t until I left the store with two big boxes that she responded. I grunted at the weight and lowered the tailgate of my truck. Then I put the boxes down so I could read her response.

  Good morning to you too. Four years ago. Why? And where are you? I thought you wanted to speak like adults.

  I winced.

  No need to remind me what a dick I’d been yesterday.

  Some truth would be good now. I replied to her before I pocketed my phone and got in the truck; I had one more stop before heading home.

  I’ll be home soon. I had to stop and get a crib for our future kid.

  “Is it a gift?”

  My forehead wrinkled. Huh?

  I knew it was a scripted question; salespeople were supposed to ask that, but come on.

  “Yeah, I’m not gonna propose to myself,” I replied. “You don’t need to wrap it, though.”

  The woman flushed and placed the ring in a box. “Right, of course.”

  I smiled and handed over my credit card. That was gonna sting next month, but I couldn’t drop to one knee with a fucking gumball machine ring.

  I’d eyed the solitaires long enough for Alessia to text me to ask what was taking so long. This was after her message asking me what I was smoking.

  My girl was a sweetie.

  In the end, I’d found a better ring, one that wouldn’t be in the way or get stuck in shit when she worked. She was practical and didn’t like flashy jewelry. This one was perfect, I thought. The white gold was encrusted with tiny diamonds and came together as two infinity symbols, with a modest rock in the middle.

  I declined a bag and pocketed the ring box when all was said and done, and then I walked out and felt my heart creep up into my throat.

  What the fuck was I doing?

  That Alessia and I had both been blind to each other’s attraction and feelings was crystal fucking clear, but marriage? Shopping for a crib? What if she wasn’t ready for that shit? I’d misread her before—evidently.

  On the other hand, it wouldn’t be a bold gesture if I didn’t put it all on the line for her.

  I was showing her what I was ready for. What I wanted with her.

  The minute I knew she loved me back, I was proposing.

  I grunted as I pushed the door open at home. The boxes weighed a ton, and I couldn’t leave them in the truck.

  I huffed a breath and set them down behind the door.

  At the same time, Alessia came out of her room.

  “What is—did you actually—I mean, you were kidding, right?” She stared at me in disbelief.

  When she started stammering, I knew she was unsure and close to short-circuiting that brain of hers. She could handle a lot. After all, she took care of me. But having the tables turned too quickly caught her off guard.

  I walked over to her and cupped her cheeks, dipped down, and kissed her hard.

  “I didn’t see the note.” I spoke against her soft lips in between kisses, waiting for her to unfreeze. “The note you left me on the nightstand—I didn’t see it until I checked in on you last night. I’m sorry, baby.” I slipped my hands back to her neck and kissed her slower.

  Her hands came up to my arms.

  “So, you thought—” She knitted her brows.

  “I watched you through the door in the kitchen.” I took a breath. “I tried to be rational about it at first. You’re the best person in the world. You wouldn’t hurt me.” I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “But the more I watched—it burned.”

  “Oh, Adam.” She sighed and shook her head. “I would never—”

  “I know.” I kissed her quickly. I didn’t wanna talk about it further, to be honest.

  “Then I left with him.” She rolled her eyes, maybe at me, maybe at herself, maybe at the whole situation. “I’m sorry. You made me so mad, but I should have reminded you about the note.” Her forehead landed on my sternum. “I didn’t think it was gonna take that long. At first, he seemed hurt. He had questions—and I-I was honest. I told him about you. Then I think he tried to convince me to—” She stopped when a low growl emanated from my chest. “Adam, we parted ways maybe thirty seconds after we were out the door. I went for a walk to calm down. That’s it.”

  Comforting, but it didn’t stop the possessiveness from flowing through me.

  “Don’t be angry,” she whispered, sliding her hands up my chest.

  “I’m not angry at you.” I leaned down and captured her mouth with mine again. It was the only thing that took the pressure off.

  She blushed and fumbled with her words. “Can we talk about—I mean—are we okay? Can we—”

  “Later,” I promised with a slow grin. I kissed her some more because I fucking could. “We’ve got a busy day ahead, and I’m already behind. You have to finish the cake, and I have two more side dishes to create before we head up to my folks’.”

  That unnerved her. She wanted things settled.

  I kissed her nose and backed off to—

  “Wait.” She gripped my arm. “The crib?”

  I nodded. “It’s white. No need to assemble it right now. Come on, let’s get to work.”

  Alessia was sufficiently frustrated and constantly watching me with all the questions written on her forehead by the time we showed up at my folks’ place in Ponderosa. My pop had done well for himself after forty years in finance—managing to pass down his love for digits to exactly one of his four sons—so when he retired, he bought Ma’s dream house up in the district we all loved to call the rich folks’ area. Much of the neighborhood rested on a cliff and had estates and mansions poking out from between the trees.

  “She put up with my work and took care of you all these years. This is the least I could do,” Pop had said when they moved in a few years ago.

  Ironically, when they no longer needed so much space, they went and bought a house that was bigger than the one we’d grown up in.

  According to my mother: for all the future grandchildren.

  Never had I included myself in the bunch who would contribute to those being born.

  Until…

  “Ma, get the door!” I yelled. Walking up th
e driveway with three big-ass Styrofoam coolers and one bag of wine bottles was no fucking picnic. Alessia trailed after me with her own share. The cake, bread, some gear I needed, and one of the side dishes.

  Thankfully Ma had heard me, and she opened the door to let us in.

  She smiled warmly. “Oh, goodness! You two continue to spoil us, sweetheart.”

  Nonsense. This was just tradition. Alessia and I took care of the food for Grady Night.

  “Jack here already?” I carried the food into the kitchen and set it on the kitchen island. “I saw his car.”

  “Yes, they came up with the twins an hour ago,” she answered. Now that I no longer had my arms full, I dutifully kissed her cheek and hugged her hello. “Isla’s resting up in their guest room, and Jack and your father are on the terrace.”

  I chuckled. “Did he buy more heaters again?”

  “You know it. He’s not happy until we can sit outside all year-round.” She walked over to greet Alessia with more warmth than any of us guys got. Isla received similar treatment. It was unfair. “It’s been so long, darling. Tell me, how did your date go?”

  I shot Alessia a sharp look.

  What the fresh fuck?

  Alessia’s cheeks turned pink, and she smiled and patted Ma’s arm. “I’m afraid that won’t work out. I, um, kind of met someone else.”

  Fuck yeah, you did. Tell my mother how great he is.

  “See, this is what happens when we don’t have lunch every week,” Ma replied. Right. How scandalous. “Well, don’t hold out on me. Tell me everything.”

  I saw the snark coming a mile away, and I narrowed my eyes at her twist of a smirk.

  “Actually,” she said, “he’s a bit of a dick.”

  “I think he’s fantastic,” I stated. Hateful woman.

  Ma spun on me, surprised. “You’ve met him? Is he good enough?”

  I opened my mouth, only to shut it. And I slid my stare back to Alessia and exhaled. Her own amusement seemed to fade and give way to curiosity. She wanted to know what I was gonna answer, and I had to go with the truth.

  “No,” I murmured. “But he’ll spend the rest of his life doing everything he can to be the man she deserves.”

  Alessia’s gaze softened, and she swallowed hard.

  I cleared my throat and eyed my mother. “That’s enough chitchat. I’m gonna get the food ready, and you two can set the table.”

  Half an hour later, the house was full and the food was ready. All my brothers were here with their significant others, and a set of baby twins was screaming bloody fucking murder at how excited they were.

  I couldn’t wait to get my eardrums shattered by a kid of my own.

  I cringed when Jack came into the kitchen with one of the twins to heat up breast milk in the microwave.

  “It’s okay to only like your own kids, right?” I asked. “Hypothetically. Or do you have to love all kids to love one of your own?”

  Alessia wasn’t here, so it was safe to ask.

  Jack frowned at me. “Of course you don’t have to like other people’s children.” He paused. “But you do have to love mine.”

  “Right. Yeah.” No, but it made sense. I did love my niece and nephew—I just didn’t like them very much.

  “Now for the obvious question,” Jack went on. “Why?”

  I shrugged and turned back to the last plate I was decorating. “I was just curious.” I refilled the deco pen with more whiskey sauce and made a zigzag pattern with it over the brisket, the vegetable skewer, the roasted potatoes, the grilled tomato, and the shoestring onions.

  “I have two things to say,” Jack told me and peered down at the food. It was like he didn’t even notice that his newborn was screaming in his arms. “One, that looks amazing. Two, who knew my twin brother could be so cute sometimes? This has to mean I’m cute too. I’m gonna go tell Isla I’m cute.”

  I glared at his retreating form. What was he talking about?

  I was always cute.

  Alessia and Ma returned to get the last of the food to serve, and I glanced around the kitchen to see if I’d missed anything. Drinks were out, food was out, cake was in the fridge, everything was set. Okay, then.

  I followed the women through the downstairs—the hallway that had more pictures than a photo exhibit, Ma’s sunroom with her million potted plants, the living room, and out onto the terrace. I expected at least a cold breeze to hit me, but Pop was really going all out on the heaters.

  It was my favorite part of the house. From here, we could see all of Camassia. The sky was dark with red and orange streaks flirting with the horizon from the sun that’d disappeared while I’d prepared the food.

  It was a large deck that stretched along the length of the house and had three seating areas, and dinner was set up on the long dining table in the middle. Ma had been so stoked to buy a new one that seated all of us.

  The wineglasses caught the flickering flames from the candles, the same light glinting in Alessia’s eyes.

  I sat down next to her in the midst of “Holy hell, this looks good” and “Can you cook for us every day, Adam?” The last one was Lola, a young chick with violet hair who had made Alex return to the land of the living after being a jaded fuck for years.

  “I feel like you got enough Gradys out there in the woods to worry about,” I chuckled.

  She sent Alex an impish grin, and he merely shook his head in amusement.

  Jesus, we all had the same type in this family. We went for the women who could keep us on our toes. Voices of reason, hell-raisers, opinionated brats, and strong—all wrapped up in one.

  “To another Grady Night,” Jameson said and raised his glass. “An official welcome to the family for the newborns whose names we still don’t know.” That was a not-so-subtle hint to Jack and Isla.

  They exchanged a smile, and Isla nodded. She was currently feeding the little monster Jack had carried into the kitchen earlier. I guess the other one was asleep. There was a baby monitor between their plates.

  “I suppose this is a good time,” Jack said.

  “Preferably before the food gets cold,” Pop urged from the head of the table. “I haven’t eaten all day, son.”

  I grinned. He’d been my biggest supporter when I decided to become a chef. To this day, he claimed he didn’t eat if I was cooking dinner. That way, he could have two servings or even three—his words.

  Jack smirked and tipped his wineglass to me for some reason. “We named our son Kyle after the man who told me to get my shit together and sleep with my college friend’s daughter.”

  I barked out a laugh, humbled and amused beyond words. Good thing my middle name hadn’t been something like Bob or Harold.

  Isla took over after Jack. “Our baby girl is named Elizabeth after you and my stepmom,” she told Ma with a smile.

  That was sweet. And given that Isla’s stepmom’s name was Chloe, I assumed it was her middle name.

  “I told myself I wasn’t going to cry.” Yeah, Ma cried.

  Pop cleared his throat loudly. “Beautiful names for two beautiful children. Now, let’s eat!”

  Thirteen

  Alessia Rossi

  I’d forgotten how much I loved Grady Night. It’d been months since our last one, and today was shaping up to be the best one yet. Possibly because it was starting to look a lot like I had a future with the man next to me.

  He was as boisterous as ever, catching up with his brothers and poking fun, but he never let me forget his close proximity. A hand on my thigh here, a nudge there. The hottest little moment was probably when he took a swig of his wine and shot me a quick wink. Winking was usually cheesy and dumb, but that bastard pulled it off.

  He knew he was flustering me, and he freaking loved it.

  “Alessia, darling,” Elizabeth said, “did you get our reservation for Valentine’s week?”

  “I did,” I assured her and smiled. “I’ll make sure to give you the table you prefer.”

  “We’re looking forward
to it,” she gushed. “The pictures you’ve posted look quite exciting.”

  I grinned. “We’ve had a blast planning it.”

  Adam chose that moment to leave a conversation with Jameson and Jack and jump into ours. “Best part was creating the desserts.”

  Heat bled across my cheeks, and I stuffed my face with some brisket to…I didn’t even know, not even his food could distract me from the memory of that evening.

  Only his smirk told me he knew the effect he had on me. He nodded at his father next. “The dessert’s got booze in it, so if you’re gonna liquor our mother up, maybe you should tell us your intentions.”

  I slapped his arm.

  Jack furrowed his brow. “Perhaps he shouldn’t.”

  Elizabeth laughed and put a hand on her chest. “You boys are so silly.”

  I agreed, and one of her silly, silly boys had evidently bought a baby crib today. Could we talk about that? Before my heart exploded?

  Fucking sigh.

  When the table was cleared and everyone outside was waiting for dessert and coffee, I found myself alone in the kitchen with Adam. He pressed me up against the counter and kissed me breathless.

  “I can’t keep my hands off of you.” He swept his tongue into my mouth and squeezed my ass to prove his point. “Fuck. If I didn’t have plans, I would’ve cut the evening short and taken you home.”

  “I would’ve let you,” I replied, gasping when he pressed his cock against my lower stomach. It was unbelievable I had that effect on him, and I kind of, accidentally, blurted that out to him.

  It made him slow down, and he wouldn’t let me hide my face.

  “That’s on me,” he said soberly. “I’ve made you believe I’m into…” He wouldn’t say it.

  “You have another type, is all.” I failed to come off as casual.

  God, I felt stupid.

  He shook his head and closed his eyes momentarily. His jaw ticked too. “No. My type is you.” He brushed his thumbs over my cheeks, his eyes imploring. “I was already obsessed with you, Alessia. When you asked me what kind of women I was into, I went with your opposite only so you wouldn’t figure out that I was hung up on you.”