by Vawn Cassidy
‘The truth is, he fucked the restaurant over big time. He’s practically run the place into the ground. He fired most of the staff, and he’s been cooking the books and skimming off the top. He changed Dad’s signature menu… I mean he’s been using frozen food for fuck’s sake, when Sully’s was always known for its fresh, locally sourced produce.’
‘Are you shitting me?’ I frown. ‘Sully’s is practically an institution around here; it’s always been known for its signature seafood dishes. Dad won awards for those.’
‘I know,’ Jesse agrees. ‘But Mum found fish fingers in the freezer.’
I can’t help it, I laugh incredulously. ‘Please tell me you’re joking.’
‘I wish I could,’ Jesse sighs, and I can almost see him shaking his head. ‘But that’s not even the worst of it.’
‘It gets worse than fish fingers?’ I ask.
‘Yep.’ He smacks his lips on the word. ‘Mum hired a new chef.’
‘Oh, well.’ I frown trying to understand his line of thought. ‘Don’t we need a new chef? Surely that’s a good thing?’
‘You’d think, wouldn’t you?’ Jesse hums. ‘But she hired some complete random who wandered in off the streets.’
‘Sorry, you’re going to have to back that up for me.’ I frown. ‘I’m a bit slow this morning.’
‘It’s not morning,’ Jesse sighs. ‘I thought we covered this.’
‘Jesse,’ I warn.
‘Some random guy just happened to be in the restaurant when she found out Scott wasn’t coming back. Apparently, he said he could cook and would help her out if she wanted. She just gave him the job then and there; she didn’t even look at his CV or have him checked out or anything. He could be a pyscho murderer for god’s sake.’
‘I seriously doubt it, this isn’t Hot Fuzz you know,’ I reply dryly. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’
‘Yeah,’ Jesse confirms. ‘You know my new veterinary nurse, Laurel? Well, she’s friends with Rachel who’s one of the waitresses at the restaurant. Rachel was there when this all went down and told Laurel, who told me.’
‘Well, it’s good that you’re not getting it third hand then,’ I snort. ‘Have you actually spoken to Mum about this?’
‘I can’t get hold of her,’ Jesse answers in frustration. ‘But I’m worried Beck, Mum’s still struggling to adapt to life without Dad, and now Scott’s screwed her over and pissed all over the legacy Dad left behind. I just don’t want some random opportunist or cheap con artist taking advantage. For all we know the guy she hired isn’t even a trained chef.’
‘I’ll talk to her,’ I soothe him. Jesse’s always been a worrier, and it’s always been me he’s come to.
‘Okay, good.’ He blows out a relieved breath. ‘I’d do it, but I’ve been in surgery all afternoon. Mrs Anderson’s Pekinese had a tumour removed, and she’s reacted badly to the anaesthetic.’
‘Mrs Anderson or the Pekinese?’
‘The dog, you idiot,’ Jesse snorts and I can feel him relaxing.
‘Just checking.’ I smile. ‘Knowing Mrs Anderson, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d needed sedating while Precious was going through surgery.’
‘It was a close call,’ Jesses chuckles. ‘Look, I have to go. Call me later, okay?’
‘I will,’ I promise as I hang up.
I shower and dress quickly before spending the next few hours running around after my mum. She’s either too busy to pick up her phone or she’s using her Spidey sense to avoid me. She’s proving harder to pin down than a tent flap in a strong breeze. In the end, I give up and head down to the restaurant hoping she’ll be there. I’d wanted to speak with her in private first, but I suppose at least this way I can see what’s going on down at Sully’s with my own eyes. I can also take the opportunity to check out the person she hired to replace that tosspot, Scott.
As I head up the beach, evening is falling, the light is dim, but it’s not quite sundown. I can see the lights of the restaurant twinkling in the distance, and I feel the familiar heaviness in my chest. If things really are as bad as Jesse seems to think, we’re all to blame. We’ve all avoided Sully’s since Dad passed away. I swallow tightly, my stomach clenching as it always does when I think of him, the pain still too fresh in my mind.
The restaurant, Sully’s, which he named after himself, was his pride and joy. It was so much a part of him, of who he was, that to stand there during his wake and him not be there had wrecked me. It wasn’t Sully’s to me anymore. I know my mum and my siblings felt the same, but the truth was, as much as none of us wanted to face it, we weren’t ready to sell it either, and right there, in between that rock and hard place, Scott the snake had slithered in, fed off our grief and then apparently bled us dry.
He’d better run, I think angrily. He’d better run as far and as fast as he can because if I catch up with him, I’m going to make him wish he’d never been born. I reach the edge of the restaurant and draw in a deep breath, reaching shakily for the railing as I climb the wooden steps to the deck, my feet feeling like lead. I open the door and stepping inside, I freeze for a moment as the memories wash over me. I practically grew up in this place, and for a second, I imagine I can hear Dad’s booming voice and larger than life personality.
Pushing back the pain, I focus on the room and frown as I glance around. It’s Friday night, it should be packed in here, but there’s barely six tables filled. Instead of the raucous crowd it used to attract, the atmosphere is quiet and subdued, and it just feels wrong, as if all the atmosphere died with my dad.
I spy my mum across the room and weave between the empty tables toward her.
‘Beck.’ She notices me heading toward her. ‘What a nice surprise.’
‘Really?’ I say dryly as I glance around. ‘That’s all you have to say to me?’
‘We’ve made a few changes around here,’ she replies reluctantly.
‘So I understand.’ I fold my arms across my chest. ‘What I don’t understand is why I had to hear it from Jesse, who heard it from Laurel, his Veterinary nurse, who heard it from one of the waitresses.’
‘Umm.’
‘Mum,’ I say softly, letting my arms drop. ‘Scott left nearly four days ago, why didn’t you say something to us? You must know we would have been here to support you. I know we haven’t shown it lately, but Dad’s legacy is important to us too.’
‘I know, sweetheart.’ She reaches out and squeezes my hand. ‘I wasn’t trying to keep it from you, I promise. I was going to tell you all when you come over for dinner on Sunday. I have it all under control. A solution presented itself, and so I didn’t want to bother anyone.’
‘Ah, yes… the solution.’ I frown as I turn to stare toward the open plan kitchen at the back. ‘Where is he then? This complete stranger that you didn’t so much as see a CV or a single reference for?’
‘Don’t take that tone with me, Beck.’ She smiles at me affectionately. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘I’m sure you do, Mum.’ I shake my head. ‘You know I don’t like to interfere when it comes to the restaurant because it was always yours and Dad’s, but it’s only been a year, and whether you like to admit it or not, you’re still vulnerable. I just want to make sure this guy doesn’t take advantage of you like Scott the wanker did. I mean, who the hell is this guy? What do you even know about him? Did you even ask to see his qualifications and how much did you agree to pay him?
‘It’s none of your business,’ she informs me tartly. ‘And I won’t have you picking holes in him. Nat is a sweet…’
‘Nat?’ I say sharply cutting her off as I turn back toward the kitchen in time to see the door to the back open and the dark-haired object of my obsession walking through holding a tray of fresh scallops. He’s wearing Chef’s whites, and all of his glorious tumbling dark curls are hidden beneath a blue paisley bandana. I see Rachel shoot him a look, which he’s completely oblivious to, and I’m pretty certain, given the way his hot gaze had seared down my body on the bea
ch that day, that she’s barking up the wrong tree. ‘Nat…’ I murmur softly, a small smile playing on my lips.
‘Oh, no, don’t you dare,’ my mother warns firmly, staring at me with a determined expression.
‘Don’t what?’ I blink innocently.
‘I know that look.’ Her eyes narrow. ‘I love you, Beck, but you really are a bit of a tart.’
‘A tart?’ I reply indignantly.
‘Darling, if you so much as approach the vague vicinity of commitment you’d break out in hives. You’re the original, good time, love ’em and leave ’em type.’
I’m reluctant to admit she may have a bit of a point.
‘And that boy,’ she continues. ‘Does not have one night stand written all over him. He is absolutely, one hundred and fifty percent off limits to you. He’s a total sweetheart, and frankly, I couldn’t care less about his damn CV because the truth is, he cooks like a dream. Which is exactly what we need if we’re going to stand a chance in hell of rebuilding Sully’s reputation. Scott had fish fingers in the freezer, Beck,’ she hisses. ‘Fish fingers! God only knows what on earth he’s been serving to the customers this past year.’
‘I heard about that,’ I murmur as I stare at her.
‘Nat’s a good boy.’ She waggles a finger in my direction. ‘I’ve spent the last couple of days getting to know him. He’s shy and a little unsure of himself, but once you dig beneath, he’s funny, and sharp, and intelligent, but the boy’s got wounds, and I don’t want you poking at him.’
I know exactly where I’d like to poke at him, but I wisely choose to keep my mouth shut.
‘Beck,’ Mum warns. ‘I mean it, you can look but don’t touch.’
‘Yeah, I got it,’ I mutter absently as my gaze unconsciously migrates over to the kitchen, and I watch as Nat adds the scallops to a searing hot pan with a sizzle. My feet are already moving of their own volition. I can’t seem to help myself, and from the audible sigh behind me, I don’t need to look to know Mum’s rolling her eyes at me as she follows along in my wake.
Chapter Six
Nat
Pride comes before a fall, so I’m told. Only in my case, I’m pretty sure it’s lack of spatial awareness.
I give the pan a little shake and hear the sizzle, inhaling the delicious scent. It’s been four days since Melanie gave me a job, and I can honestly say I’ve never been so happy. Okay, sure, it’s a bit nerve wracking as I’ve never actually worked in a restaurant before, but it’s still pretty quiet, so I’m getting the hang of it.
Flipping over the scallops to brown the other side, I add butter, garlic, and lemon, swirling the pan as it melts. I love the open plan kitchen that allows me to look out over the restaurant. There’s a smaller second kitchen and prep area out back, along with cold storage, but according to Melanie, her husband Sully had liked to be out front in the thick of things, chatting to customers as he cooked. From what I gather, he had a larger-than-life personality. When Melanie speaks of him, although it’s always with an undercurrent of sadness, she still lights up, sharing funny stories and anecdotes about their life together, and I find myself wishing I could’ve met him.
Lifting the pan from the heat, I divide the scallops onto two plates, arranging them on a bed of greens, wilted spinach, chard, and leeks, before sprinkling a light garnish of tarragon over the top and pinging the bell.
‘Service,’ I call out happily as Rachel slides the plates off the counter and sends me a warm look.
‘You’re doing great, Nat.’ She beams. ‘Table 23 love the Crab and Avocado tacos. They’re coming back next week and bringing friends and have already booked a table.’
‘That’s great.’ I smile as I read the next order.
I check the pot boiling on the stove behind me, gauging that the lobster is ready to be removed from the heat as I bring it over to the grill. This really is my dream job and a world away from the mold my father had tried to cram me into. There’s no way he’d have allowed me to pursue it if I’d remained in London.
Halving a few lemons, I set them down on the grill to char before slicing the lobster lengthways and placing it on the grill. Tossing some salted butter and wild garlic leaves into the cast iron pan I swirl it around over the heat, watching it melt.
When I left London, I walked out on everything. I’d left a well-paid job with an investment banking firm, which might sound like a big deal until you factor in that my father is one of the partners and my appointment was unfortunately a first-class case of nepotism. I hadn’t wanted the job. I’d caved because, like everything else in my life, it was easier than fighting a losing battle.
I flip the lobsters, grilling the other side for a couple of minutes before shifting them to a plate and drenching them with garlic butter. Finally, I serve them up with French fries, my own signature lemon mayonnaise and add the burnt lemon as garnish.
I ping the bell again and watch as Lucy, one of the other waitresses, picks up the plate. ‘Can you check with table 18 how they want their steak,’ I ask her. ‘It wasn’t written on the order.’
‘You got it, Chef.’ She smiles before disappearing.
It gives me a little thrill every time someone calls me that, and I find myself smiling widely. Melanie has been great; she ran the restaurant for years with her husband Sully and has firmly taken me under her wing. I’m still not entirely sure why, but I’m grateful for it. I’m pretty much a hundred percent certain by now she knows I have no restaurant experience, but she pitches in picking up the slack and essentially training me.
My mother and father were never around much when Sophia and I were growing up, which left us to be raised more or less by the staff. I learned to cook from Carmella, she was our cook. She was Italian like my mother, which I think was why mother hired her, it was like having a little piece of her home with her in that big expensive town house. Carmella, however, was everything my mother was not. She was warm, and funny, and kind. I was always hovering around her feet, fascinated by the scents, textures and taste of everything in the kitchen. From early on, she started teaching me to cook. Not just her signature Italian dishes, which she considered my heritage, but world cooking. I learned everything from Curries to Goulash. It was something we explored together, and when I moved to Oxford to study for my degree, I loved having my own kitchen. I took a few cookery classes and would often try out new recipes on my roommates.
When I moved back to London and got my own place, I continued taking courses and classes whenever I could, but it was never much fun just cooking for myself. Food has always been part of my soul, and Carmella used to tell me that cooking good food for someone was like hugging them from the inside. I shake my head, huffing out a laugh under my breath, maybe that’s why I’m so obsessed with cooking because God knows there’d been no hugging of any kind in our house.
Glancing up, I see Melanie heading across the restaurant toward me, and I’m about to smile until my gaze drifts to the person beside her, and my heart starts pounding.
‘Nat,’ she calls out as she reaches the other side of the counter. ‘I’d like you to meet my son Beck.’
‘Your son?’ I swallow thickly as my eyes flick to his, and he seems to be studying me, a small smile playing on his lips.
‘Well, one of them anyway.’ Melanie nods. ‘Beck, Nat, Nat, Beck,’ she introduces us with a little wave of her hand.
‘It’s nice to meet you.’ Beck reaches over the counter holding out his large, tanned hand.
His voice, now I hear it in the quietness of the restaurant rather than over the shriek of the wind and rain, is low and gravelly and hits me straight in the balls, sending heat unfurling in my stomach. I reach out to shake his hand, and there’s an almost visible spark as our skin meets, a sharp static shock which tingles in my palm and shoots up my arm. I jerk my hand back and feel my cheeks heat.
‘Rubber soles,’ I blurt out randomly.
‘Sorry?’ His mouth twitches in amusement.
‘My shoes,’ I clarif
y in embarrassment. ‘Rubber soles for health and safety, combined with this flooring create static electricity.’
Oh my god, I sound like a complete dickhead. Why on earth is my mouth still moving?
‘Uh huh.’ He smiles as he watches me.
‘Oh.’ Melanie glances over to the door. ‘Looks like we’ve got some more customers. It’s starting to pick up. I’d better come and help out with the cooking, just let me get everyone seated.’ Her attention is fixed on the people waiting to be served. ‘Beck, be nice,’ she warns as she hurries across the restaurant.
‘So.’ He grins widely, his eyes glittering with mischief. ‘Lieutenant Dan, we meet again.’
‘Nat,’ I correct him.
‘I remember.’ His mouth quirks, and my gaze snags on those dimples, making my gut tighten.
My belly jumps nervously, and I flush again trying not the think about the fact that I’ve tugged one off over this ridiculously good-looking guy… actually more than one if I’m being honest.
God, what is wrong with me? He’s probably not even gay or into me if he is. He’s undoubtedly just being friendly, and he’s Melanie’s son, which instantly puts him off limits anyway. Not that I was planning on making a move or anything. I wouldn’t even know how to; I’ve never even attempted to flirt with a guy before.
Urgh, my inner monologue is just annoying me now. I’m making this into something it’s not. Pushing aside the inconvenient attraction I feel and the complete mortification of the fact he’s had a starring role in my spank bank since the moment I met him, I force myself to think of him just like anyone else. Placing him very deliberately in a box labelled do not touch.
Slowly, the knot in my belly unfurls, and I begin to relax. I can do this, and just because he’s insanely attractive doesn’t mean I can’t hold a conversation with him, but then my mind rolls back to the last conversation we had on the beach, and my gaze narrows.
‘What?’ he asks curiously.
‘Just… ask… for… Molly?’ I repeat slowly and deliberately.
