Through the Lens

by K. K. Allen

  “Zach asked me to move in with him.” She takes a breath before opening her mouth again. “And I said yes.”

  My jaw drops as my brain tries to calculate the duration of their relationship. “That seems a little… fast.”

  Monica cringes and shakes her head. “But it’s not. If you think about how long I’ve known him then include how many years we’ve been flirting, and then dating. Even if he wasn’t technically my boyfriend for that entire time, it doesn’t matter. I’m ready to take the leap.”

  “I’ve never seen you all-in with a guy like this before. It’s beautiful, actually. You two are so in love, it makes me sick.”

  She giggles, even though my words were not meant to be a compliment.

  “I can’t believe I pushed him away for so long,” she gushes. “Sometimes it scares me to think of what my life would be like without him. If he hadn’t been so patient… I can’t even imagine it.”

  I sigh. I’ve lost my sister to la-la land for good. Well, shit. “So if you move in with him, then what will I do?”

  Monica perks up again and turns to face me completely. Her wide caramel eyes are bleeding with excitement. “Zach had the best idea, which you’ll probably hate, but honestly, you don’t really have any other options unless you go back to LA and move in with Mom, so—”

  “Yeah, not doing that. What’s Zach’s brilliant idea?”

  Monica takes another deep breath. “There’s a newly renovated apartment in Seattle, right above Edible Desire.”

  The moment I hear the name of the kitchen, my entire body cringes. “Of course there is,” I mutter dryly. It seems I’ll never get away from that place.

  “Desmond agreed to—”

  “Stop. Desmond’s involved in this plan? As in cocky chef Desmond?”

  Monica sighs at my interruption. “Yes. He owns the place. But he said he’ll let you live there for free.”

  I feel my eyes widen. Shocked doesn’t remotely cover my reaction to what I just heard. I’m tempted to look around for the hidden cameras since obviously this is some kind of joke. “You might need to repeat that.” I laugh. “I thought you just said that Desmond agreed to let me live in his rental apartment for free.”

  Monica is practically jumping out of her skin with excitement. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Free rent. Well…”

  I laugh at her “well” because of course there’s some sort of condition attached to this offer. “Well what?” Then I shake my head. I actually don’t hate this plan so far. “Look, as long as I don’t have to talk to the guy or step foot back inside that kitchen, I’m on board with this.”

  Monica cringes, giving me all the answers I need.

  I’m shaking my head before she can jump in and explain. “Nope.”

  “Just hear me out,” she pleads. “It’s a temporary thing, but you’d get free rent and still get paid. All you have to do is work for Desmond. The hours are so good too. And you could still work at White Water if you want to.”

  My sister has some nerve with this proposition.

  “Did you honestly expect me to say yes to working with Desmond Blake? At the freaking kitchen, no less? It’s like the world met in some secret meeting and planned my demise, and you’re the pawn leading me to the end. I can’t think of a job I would want less than that one.”

  Monica tilts her head and gives me an annoyed look. “Wow. Dramatic much? I cannot believe you haven’t found yourself an acting gig yet. You’re such a natural.”

  I cough out a laugh. “I won’t get to explore any career if I’m sweating over a stove all day. What would I even do there? Desmond knows I can’t cook. Zach must have paid him off to agree to this. This isn’t a one-sided thing. Desmond doesn’t like me either, M.”

  Monica smiles. “Zach didn’t have to pay him. Desmond agreed to it. But you’re right about it going both ways. Maybe he doesn’t think you’ll accept the offer. Either way, he needs to find someone to replace Gretta, you need a place to live, and you need a job to afford it. You two are a match made in heaven.”

  “Try a match made in hell.”

  “Sure.” Monica shrugs. “But either way, you two need each other.”

  I try to picture Desmond and me working together, laughing in the break room before cooking class, taste-testing all the new recipes, sharing a drink after work… Then our eyes meet in an emotion-filled stare. He kisses me, and I kiss him back. I grip his long hair in my fist to pull him closer while my naked ass smashes against the nearest wall, and he’s…

  Whoa, that escalated quickly. I shake the vivid imagery from my mind and focus on my sister’s waiting face.

  “So you moving in with Mr. NFL is already a done deal?” I ask. “There’s no talking you into getting a place with me even if I grovel and promise to get a second job to pay more?”

  Monica shakes her head. “Sorry, Mags. But c’mon, let’s be realistic. It will take a couple of months for you to have the money to help out, and I can’t sign another lease. Think about it. Won’t it be nice to have your own place? And since I won’t need a lot of my old furniture, you can take what you need to the new place.”

  I won’t express it as exuberantly as I feel it, but having my own things and space has a nice ring to it.

  “Ugh, fine, but Desmond better play nice. If he doesn’t, I just might consider moving back to LA after all.”

  Monica grins. “He will play nice, I promise. He wouldn’t have agreed otherwise. I think he’ll appreciate the help so much. It sounds like Gretta has really put him in a bind.”

  Sighing, I gesture for the bartender to pour me another vodka soda.

  If working with Desmond Blake is anything like being his student, then I don’t know if I’ll be able to ever forgive my sister for pushing me into this situation.

  10

  Welcome Home

  Desmond

  I’m refilling containers of condiments and spices in the back room of Edible Desire when I hear a knock on the door followed by the sound of the door opening and shutting.

  “Hello,” calls out an annoyed voice.

  I pop my head around the backroom door to see a woman looking just as irritated as her voice sounded. For a second, I don’t recognize the gorgeous woman with gray sweatpants and an off-the-shoulder top. First, she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup. Second, her long hair is pulled up into a high ponytail. The only bling about her are the diamond studs she always wears on her ears.

  When Maggie’s eyes find mine, she sighs. “It’s two p.m. I thought we were going to meet upstairs.”

  I glance at the clock on the wall and curse. “Shit, I forgot.” Then I flash her a grin. “Sorry.” I walk to the sink and wash my hands then grab my set of keys from the wall and start toward the entrance. She follows me out the door and up the flight of stairs to a set of condos on the top floor.

  I turn right and unlock the door to Maggie’s new place. Before I push it open, I hand her the spare key. “Lose that, and you pay for the replacement.”

  She rolls her eyes before zooming in on my key ring. “Wait a second. You have a copy?”

  “Of course I do. I have the master.”

  Maggie narrows her eyes. “So you can just walk in whenever you want?”

  “Yes, but I won’t. Not unless something is wrong.”

  “And I should trust you?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “You mean trust that I won’t slip into your condo and replace your shampoo with Nair?” I shrug. “Guess you can never be too sure, can you?”

  Her face darkens. “The fact that you even thought of that terrifies me.”

  I chuckle. “Maggie. Seriously?” I tilt my head at her, hoping she can see my sincerity. “I’m not going to step foot inside your place. But if it helps you sleep at night, you can deadbolt it when you’re inside.”

  “Okay,” she finally says and takes the key from my hand. Then she turns the knob and pushes her way inside.

  There’s not much to the studio flo
or plan. The living space is one small room encased in white brick, with one large window that overlooks the back alley. The one bathroom is just large enough for a standing shower, toilet, and pedestal sink. And the updated kitchenette barely holds a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a sink. But as I glance around the newly renovated space, I know Maggie would be crazy to dislike it in any way. Who can argue with free rent plus a new job?

  “Okay.” She sighs again and points behind me to my door. “Do you own that place too?”

  I glance over my shoulder and nod. “Yup.”

  She snorts. “You’re a regular landlord, aren’t you?”

  “Sure, but I live in that one.”

  She pauses for a second, like she needs to process what I just told her. We’re going to be neighbors. Apparently Monica failed to mention that to her.

  “Of course you do.” She shakes her head with a laugh and then marches off, perusing the apartment like she’s taking measurements with her mind.

  I lean against the open doorframe. “So,” I start, internally cringing at my lame attempt at conversation. I don’t know how I’m going to manage working with the woman all day, every day? “When do you move your stuff in?”

  Maggie turns from her spot at the window, where she was checking out the view, and pauses like she has to think about it. “I don’t have much. Considering the size of this place, that’s a good thing.”

  “You’ll need a bed.”

  Maggie nods, assessing the space again. “Monica’s giving me hers. She’s going to have the movers bring over some things once she’s all moved into Zach’s. I might take her couch, too, if there’s room.”

  “There’s more room than you think. You just have to be creative.”

  She shrugs. “I’ll be fine. It’s temporary, right?” Her eyes meet mine in a mutual agreement, probably our only one since we met. She doesn’t want to be here as much as I don’t want to be here.

  “Right.” Of course it’s temporary. Everything Maggie does is temporary. There’s no reason I should expect any less from her here. “I’ll leave you to it. Just make sure you’re downstairs in an hour to start your training. I’ll go easy on you today, promise.”

  Her expression twists into confusion. “Um, today? We never discussed a start date.”

  I raise my brows. “You’re moving in today, right?”

  “Yes,” she answers, caution filling her tone.

  “Then today’s your start date.” I back away from her door with a wink. “See you downstairs.”

  “No.” She charges out the door and slams it behind her before stomping past me.

  I whip my body around to follow her movements, shock pulsing through my veins. “No?”

  “You heard me,” she says, taking the steps quickly. “I have shit to do. I can’t start today.”

  I quicken my walk, following her down the stairs to the street, where she pulls out her phone and goes straight to the ride-share app. I’m officially panicking. “I already fired Gretta. You have to start today.”

  Her eyes snap to mine. “Well, I can’t. I only came here first to see how much shit I would be able to fit in the studio. I have to get to Zach’s place and set aside furniture for the movers to deliver here tonight. Then I need to be here to let them in. I’m sorry, Desmond. I’ll start on Monday.”

  I assess her with my eyes, feeling hopeless and ready to let her walk away when an idea strikes. “What if I take you to Zach’s and then drive you back here so you can help me?”

  “Nope. I’m good.” Her retort is quick and dismissive before her focus returns to her phone.

  I look down and growl. “Please don’t tell me you’re scheduling a ride to take you ten minutes from here. I can take you.”

  Her face twists at my offer. “It’s not the middle of the night in a dingy part of town. I’m perfectly capable of getting to and from Zach’s place.”

  Her finger is hovering above the button to confirm her ride when I snatch the phone away. “And I’m perfectly capable of driving you myself.”

  “Give me back my phone.” She reaches for my hand as I yank it away.

  I look down at her with a wicked glare and hold the phone above my head. She jumps in a futile effort to grab for it, causing me to chuckle. While she’s tall, I’ve still got at least eight inches on her.

  “I’ll give it back when you stop being a stubborn little mule.”

  With a scream, she stomps her foot on the pavement and crosses her arms. “I can’t believe this is my life.”

  “Better start believing it, darlin’. I can even pinch you if that’ll help.” Then I let out a sigh and lower my hand to give her back the phone. “Look, I’m already here,” I say as she snatches it from my palm. “Let me save you a few dollars and give you a ride. Consider it a housewarming gift.”

  She scoffs and shakes her head. “You’re so generous. Don’t you have work to get back to?”

  I nod. “Yup, and so do you. We better hurry. Wouldn’t want to be late on your first day.”

  11

  Training

  Maggie

  He starts to walk off, and I follow, making quick work of my feet as he leads me around the side of the building to an alley. Tucked away on the bottom floor of the Edible Desire building is a large metal gate leading to a parking garage.

  The second Desmond opens the gate, I spot his car and walk toward it faster than he can lead me. I’m still fuming from his demands, even when he comes up behind me to unlock my door, even when he brushes against me so subtly that I have the urge to lean into him. For a moment, I allow myself to stand still and just breathe. It’s about time I start taking hold of my emotions when I’m around Desmond. But then I pull in his crisp scent, which sends a euphoric buzz straight to my veins, and I’m quickly reminded why controlling my emotions is a futile effort.

  He pulls open the car door for me, and I slip into the familiar leather seat. An uneasy feeling settles over me as I recall the last time I sat in this very spot. The memories rush over me. My confessions about my father. Desmond’s confessions about his. The intensity of our goodbye. Yet I’m back here in the last place I ever imagined I would be.

  I snap my head toward Desmond. “You’re really going to force me to start work today?”

  He sighs and throws me a perturbed glance. “No. I won’t force you.” His words throw me totally off balance, yet again.

  “What?”

  “I’ll leave it up to you. Just know I wouldn’t be making such a case of this if I didn’t need the help.” He pulls out of the parking spot with his eyes everywhere but on me. “I’ll help you get to Zach’s so you can do what you need to do. I’ll bring you back to the kitchen, and then I’ll let you decide.”

  “Why do I feel like this is a trap? Like you’re giving me a choice, but there’s only one right answer.”

  He chuckles. “Maybe that’s the case. Or maybe your guilty conscience is doing its job.”

  I huff and fold my arms across my chest. “Well, it should be my choice. Just because I’m going to work for you and live in your stupid apartment doesn’t mean you get to run my life.”

  “No, Maggie. I don’t get to run your life. The decision is yours. But you should remember, the only reason I agreed for you to live in my stupid apartment was because you needed a job. It just so happens that I really need the help too. Is that not how you understood it?”

  My mouth drops while my mind reels because I’m really not sure why I’m being so stubborn about this. Desmond has a point. I guess I just thought there would be some transition time. Everything is happening so fast. “Fine.” I shift in the bucket seat. “Help me get my stuff into the apartment, and then I’ll work until the movers come.”

  In my peripheral, I catch his satisfied smirk. “Okay.”

  It takes everything in my power not to respond to his smug satisfaction. Instead, I face forward and shut my mouth for the rest of the ten-minute drive to Zach’s condo.

  We park i
n front of a moving truck at the curb of a beautiful three-story building. My sister explained the location this morning when she brought me here. We’re on the south slope of Queen Anne Hill in Seattle. Kerry Park sits across the street and has the most beautiful views of downtown Seattle’s skyline. The Space Needle peeks above the trees, and the hillside seems to stretch for miles. The location is as breathtaking as it probably is expensive.

  Zach doesn’t air his wealth. In fact, sometimes I forget that my sister is dating a celebrity. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was just a normal guy with the hots for my sister.

  When Desmond and I walk into Zach’s place, Monica is already busy making herself at home while the movers lug boxes and totes in around her. She’s adding personal touches everywhere we look—throw pillows, brightly colored paintings, accent chairs—to the extent that it almost looks like a whole different place.

  “Whoa,” Desmond says, his eyes registering the same shock as I’m sure mine do. “It’s starting to actually look like someone lives here. It’s about time Zach gets some life on these walls.”

  For once, I agree with Desmond. When I first saw the place this morning, I asked Monica how long Zach had been living here. She shocked the hell out of me when she said it had been his home for a couple of years. The walls were mostly bare, and there were hardly any personal touches. It was like the guy didn’t want to commit to it. I guess now, with Monica in the picture, that’s no longer a problem.

  Monica is beaming from ear to ear as she shows us all that she’s accomplished in the last few hours. Her pride and joy is her new craft room, which is currently a complete disaster. “Zach wanted me to have my own space for creating. But don’t worry, sis. When you spend the night, you can take the other spare bedroom.”