Calla's Kitchen

by Teresa Crumpton

  Chapter 23

  Calla

  Wes and I hit up our normal running trail around UT the following morning then make our way toward our favorite cafe. Sweat rolls down Wes’s face by the time we round the East side of the campus. He picks up his pace as more cars fill the street.

  “Hey watch it,” someone calls from behind him.

  He spins around, jogging backwards, and spots me about twenty feet back, caught in a group of students. I power through, shaking my head.

  “Tell me we weren’t like them.” I gesture with my thumb over my shoulder.

  “You really want me to answer that?”

  “No, not really.” I stick my tongue out at him. “Let’s go. I hate being on this side of campus.”

  “You always did. How was Baggie this morning? He didn’t seem too happy having me in the spare room.” He turns back around to jog forward now that I’ve caught up with him.

  “He was fine. You know he’s still mad at you for laughing at him years ago. You better make sure you keep your bag off the floor, or he might pee on your stuff.”

  “He wouldn’t!” Wes glances over at me, stopping at the crosswalk.

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Wes stretches his arms as we wait for the light to change. I jog in place and do shoulder circles.

  “Have you heard from Max?” Wes asks.

  “Are you nuts? I told you last night that was over.” I furrow my brows as I glare at him.

  “Yes, but he lives in the building. I saw him this morning.” He looks over at me. “Plus, you've done crazier things.”

  I chuckle and start across the street when the walk signal lights up.

  “To be honest, I didn't like him much,” Wes admits. “He rubbed me the wrong way. And his boss isn't much better.”

  “Shocking,” I smirk.

  We kick up the tempo and run in silence through the next two lights as if we are in a race to see who’s faster. Cars speed by, and a half-dozen horns blare.

  Breathing heavily but not slowing, I question him. “So who am I allowed to date then?”

  Wes slows down almost to a stop, glancing over at me in surprise. I stare at him intently for a moment, but I don’t give him time to respond as I pick up my pace, dropping the conversation. Frustration rolls off me, even before Wes catches up. We finish the run to Kerbey Lane Cafe in silence.

  Baggie is waiting at the door when Wes and I return from our early morning run. On the way home, we’d stopped by the store so I could pick up supplies for a salad I want to prepare for lunch. It’s something I haven’t told the guys about yet, but I want to add it to the menu. I set aside the strawberries, spinach, and walnuts on one side of my cutting board, with roasted chicken and strawberry vinaigrette on the other. Working together, we clean, cut, and mix the salad.

  “I get to try this before we make it at work, right?” Wes asks.

  “Yeah. I want to test it first to see if we should add it to the menu. If I get the drinks, you want to grab the bowls?”

  “Deal.” Wes moves around the kitchen to the cabinet where the bowls are located. I pull down two wine glasses and pivot toward the fridge, retrieving a chilled bottle of Pinot Gris out of it.

  Wes dishes up our salads while I pour the wine.

  “Grab the silverware and the glasses, and I’ll meet you on the couch,” Wes tells me.

  I grab what we need and saunter out of the kitchen, following Wes and picking the mail up off the counter on the way. We both take a seat on the couch. I hand Wes his fork as I set the glasses on the table. He hands me my bowl, and I take a bite. I flip through the mail quickly, separating bills from trash, and toss them on the coffee table. I come across a white, square envelope that stands out, but I don’t recognize the return address. I open it. It’s an invitation to Torrance's wedding on October 31st.

  I toss the invitation at Wes, pick up my glass, and drain it. I must squeeze it too tight, because it shatters in my hand.

  “Fuck!”

  “Stay right there and don’t move. You have glass everywhere.” Wes puts his bowl and the invitation on the coffee table before racing to the kitchen to grab a towel and my first aid kit from under the sink.

  He hurries back. Taking my hand in his, he scans it for cuts.

  “What's in the letter?” he demands.

  I reach for it and hand it to him. “Read it.”

  “I’ll read it after I clean this cut. Can you not feel it?”

  I shake my head. Why the fuck did that bastard send me that, on top of wanting to have the rehearsal dinner at Belladonna?

  Wes opens my first aid kit and starts the cleaning process. He wipes the cut with an alcohol wipe, and I wince at the sting. He adds antibiotic cream then bandages the meaty part of my thumb.

  “You’ll need to be careful for a few nights and wear a glove. If I read that now, can you carefully pick up the glass?”

  “Of course, you ass.”

  He leans closer and kisses my forehead, making my heart rate speed up as he takes the invitation out of my hand. He quickly skims the paper then rips it up, setting the pieces on the corner of the coffee table. He wraps his arm around me before I can stand. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he clicks on the newspaper app and scrolls until he finds what he is looking for.

  “You probably shouldn’t read this but-” He hands the phone over to me.

  I read it out loud. “Belladonna has definitely lost it’s soul. Calla used to love to cook, but it seems like her heart isn't in it anymore.” I growl. “Screw him! Freakin' a-hole.” Tears fill my eyes, and they roll down my face. Wes wipes them away.

  “Calla, he's not worth it.” He pulls me into a hug.

  More angry tears flow down my face, dripping onto his shoulder. He pushes me away from his shoulder to wipe the tears again, his hands sliding down to cup my jaw. He lifts my face so I have to look into his eyes as he stares deeply into mine.

  “You deserve better.” He pulls my face close to his, and our lips touch. Softly at first. Then he slides his hands into my hair, holding me in place as he turns up the heat of the kiss, curling my toes. As if realizing what he’s just done, he lets go and pulls away. Stunned and incoherent, I freeze.

  Holy fuck! Wes just kissed me!

  “Calla, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…. Let’s forget that just happened.”

  I barely register what he’s said.

  “Wes, you just got out of a relationship with Zoe. The last time you two broke up, you got back together and moved in with her.”

  “It’s over, and it has been for a while,” he mumbles, more to himself than to me.

  “You’ve been telling me to play the field for months. Maybe you should do that too.” I start picking up the pieces of glass from my lap and the surrounding area.

  “No. I don’t want to do that. Be careful cleaning that up. Better yet, let me help.” He rises from the couch and grabs the pieces off the floor.

  We both walk over to the kitchen, and I quickly find a paper bag to put the glass in before throwing it away. We head back to the living room, picking up our salads and eating them in silence.

  Trey, Wes, and I arrive at Belladonna early and start prepping for the staff meal and dinner service. Unlike Saturday night, tonight we want the staff to try the specials that we’re going to serve. The three of us leave piles of dirty dishes as we conjure up sauces, rubs, marinades, and our test entrees. Adam saunters in about the same time we fire up the stoves.

  He and Trey watch carefully as Wes and I barely speak to each other. Wes’s kiss still weighs heavily on my mind. We work on a few different items that I can create no matter what my emotional state. And today my emotions are running high.

  As we complete each dish, all of us sample it and comment on the taste, and what it needs or doesn’t need.

  “These are great! Defiantly edgier than what we've created before,” Adam remarks. “I think I can make some pretty awesome drinks to go with them.”
r />   “You’re sure about these?” I gesture to the food. “What about the new ones from the other night?”

  “Let’s start adding them to the menu,” Wes responds.

  I squeal in half-excitement, half-dread and run into our office to grab the tablet off my desk. As I head back out to the kitchen, I stop short just inside the doorway when I hear, “What's going on, man?” I peer around the corner at my friends. Trey is talking to Wes.

  “I kissed her,” Wes mumbles.

  “You what?” Adam whisper-yells.

  “You heard me.” Wes’s voice sounds defeated.

  The bell rings at the back door, signaling a delivery. Adam storms out to retrieve it. Wes and Trey remain silent until he returns a few minutes later carrying a bouquet of calla lilies. Trey looks at Adam questioningly, and he shrugs his reply.

  “They're from me,” Wes admits. “Adam, will you take them to her? But don't tell her they're from me.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Why won’t you just tell her you’re in love with her and have been for years?” Adam demands, setting the flowers on the counter.

  “It’s not that simple, and you know it.” Wes glances away.

  “Fuck, it’s not!” Trey crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Wes.

  “Torrance sent her a wedding invitation. She’d just dealt with Max, and they weren’t even really together. I’ve been in a sham of a relationship with Zoe, but Calla didn’t know it was a sham. Hell, I don’t think anyone realized it was a sham until a couple weeks ago. And on top of all that, y’all know I have darker needs that Calla isn’t ready for.”

  He needs to get over thinking I’m innocent and vanilla.

  Adam throws up his hands as Trey shakes his head. I can just make out his expression. And the eye roll that goes with it.

  “You’re being an idiot. Again.” Trey picks up the flowers and strolls in my direction.

  I scurry back into the office and get to my desk seconds before Trey enters. I place the tablet and my phone down on my desk as he heads toward me.

  “Who are those from?” I pretend to be clueless.

  “Darlin’, you’re a little sneak, and you know damn well who they’re from. Don’t think I didn’t see you.”

  I bite my bottom lip as I try to come up with something believable. “I’ve got nothing.”

  “Glad you stopped trying. Besides, I’m actually happy you overheard the dumbass. The question is, how are you going to make him see the light?”

  “Fuck if I know. Trey, he’s never shown any inkling that he was interested in being more than friends. Until Max.”

  “Calla, he’s shown plenty of interest. But since he put you in the friend zone all those years ago because of Ben, you’ve never noticed. I have an idea. It’s likely to backfire, but it would give him a taste of his own medicine. Why the fuck he thought it would be a good idea for you to date, or fuck, other men before he made his move is beyond me. But do it again. Caleb’s been sniffing around. Go out on a date or two with him.”

  “That’s evil.” I smirk at him.

  “It’s what he deserves right now.” Trey sets the lilies on my desk.

  “Agreed.” I lean in to smell the multi-colored flowers. “They’re gorgeous. At least he has great taste in flowers.”

  “They’re your favorite, so of course he has great taste. Plus, it’s not like he could go wrong when it comes to your namesake.”

  “Good point.”

  “I’m guessing you haven’t gotten the order in, since you were listening to us?” He leans on my desk.

  “No. I need to do that now. I was coming out there to make sure we order everything we need.” I pick up the tablet and phone.

  “Come on, let’s get this done.” He flicks my hair before holding his hand out to take the tablet.

  Chapter 24

  Calla

  Adam slams open the swinging kitchen door, making his way over to me. Before he can speak, Wes and Trey are next to me. The kitchen almost comes to a complete standstill as everyone reacts to his dramatic entrance.

  “Torrance's party has arrived,” he announces.

  Why is the fucking dinner tonight?

  “Did we really agree to having his party here? Isn't the wedding at the end of the month?” I snap. “After that fucker’s last review, why the fuck does he want to eat here?”

  “Because he likes to be an ass, and yes it is,” Trey answers. “Now, Darlin’, get your ass moving. We need to make him eat his words.”

  “This isn't his rehearsal dinner. I heard through some friends that they want an announcement dinner,” Wes informs us, moving to his station.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath. As I open my eyes, I catch Wes rolling his eyes and mumbling something inaudible. Trey bends down, grabs a small jar from the shelf under the counter, and places it on the counter with a clink. The jar is filled with fresh belladonna. Deadly Nightshade. I snort.

  “My luck, I’d put too much in and actually kill them.” I nod toward the jar.

  Forest walks quickly over to the counter and smoothly places a box of rat poison next to the jar. I cover my mouth, trying to hold in my cackle. Wes booms out a laugh, shaking his head in excitement. Adam tries to fight back his laugh, but it breaks through, filling the room along with everyone else’s. I shake my head, trying not to consider their suggestions.

  “As much as I’d love to do that,” I chuckle and gesture to the poisons, “we can't.” However, the want in my voice is as clear as day.

  Wes picks up the jar, studying the contents. “I can create something with this.”

  I snatch the jar forcefully from him. “Give me that!” I smile wickedly at them before putting the jar and box away.

  Blood boiling, I slam the kitchen door open, and it barely misses me when it swings back. I stomp into the dining room, glowering at anyone that gets close. That causes a few servers to quickly step out of my way. The Thrill is Gone by B.B. King plays overhead. Patrons closest to the kitchen turn toward the commotion, and they glimpse me walking with a purpose across the floor.

  I hope this doesn’t turn ugly. I don’t need the humiliation of a scene in my restaurant.

  I nod as I pass the curious patrons. A waitress is standing at Torrance’s table on the opposite side of the restaurant. When I make my way over, Torrance's friends look up, all smiles.

  “Good evening,” I greet the table, trying my damnedest not to say something bitchy and rude. God, this is a fucking nightmare. I was supposed to be the one having this dinner with the lying, cheating asshat.

  Everyone nods at me. Everyone except Torrance's fiancée. She gives me this half-smirking, half-sneering face, and I want to smack it off her. Slut. Just wait until he cheats on you.

  “How are you, Calla?” Torrance’s mother asks.

  I smile at her before glancing around the table at other faces I know... the other critics who judge my food on a regular basis.

  “I'm good. I hope y’all enjoy your dinner. If there’s anything we can do to make your time with us more enjoyable, please let my staff know.” I am just about to turn when Torrance's mother touches my hand lightly.

  Torrance's fiancée flinches at the gesture. Torrance takes in a deep breath, tensing, while his friends watch with anticipation. It’s as if they know something big is going to happen.

  What the hell?

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” Torrance’s fiancée՛growls, scowling at me.

  I glare back at her, the rest of the table sitting back in shock. I can feel Adam watching this situation unfold from across the dining room, over by the bar.

  I really don’t need this. Is this why Torrance wanted to have this dinner here? To rub it in my face? He so isn’t the man I once thought he was. Guess I should’ve realized that when he slept with this bitch.

  My cheeks begin to heat, and Torrance's mother squeezes my hand.

  My temper explodes. “At least I don't sleep….” Stro
ng hands grab me before I can finish my thought.

  “Don’t say another thing. Just watch and listen,” Adam whispers in my ear as he slowly moves me away from the table, pulling me back toward the kitchen, I suspect.

  There's a collective gush of breaths at Torrance's table as his guests stare after me then glare at him and his fiancée.

  “Did we come here for this?” His mom gestures toward me. “Did you want to humiliate Calla all over again?”

  Again? Does she know what happened? Did he actually come clean with his family?

  “Mom, I-” He swallows hard. “No.”

  The poor dark-haired waitress remains standing to the left of the table. She’s looking on in shock at the scene unfolding in front of her. She glances back and forth, her mouth agape at Adam’s and my retreat, and the bitch from hell. Torrance's fiancée focuses on the waitress. Adam abruptly stops, and I gather my wits. He has stopped us by the bar where we can still hear the conversation, but out of the way enough that no one will notice us gawking.

  “I would like to order the eggplant parmesan,” Torrance’s fiancée says haughtily, without opening the menu.

  “We don't have that,” the waitress replies, getting down to business.

  “Nessa sure can call them,” I whisper to Adam.

  “Yes, she can. That intuition of hers is uncanny. Drink this.” He places a glass of clear liquid in my hand, and I take a sip. Tequila. Damn, I love him. He holds up a drink in his hand, and we clink glasses.

  “That's what I want, so she will make it,” the bitch exclaims, pointing toward the kitchen.

  Not only is everyone at their table staring at her, but so are the customers at the surrounding tables. The waitress shifts her stance to face Torrance, even as he is sitting quietly next to his future wife. He shakes his head.

  “Little did everyone know that they would have dinner and a show tonight.” I gesture with the glass to the dining room.