Feeling the Heat

by Jill Haven

  “Almost?” I raised an eyebrow as I studied the two names on my list again.

  She shrugged and a grin broke through the tension in her face. I had no idea my decision meant so much to her. “Do the right thing by him and you’ll be better than Paris. But don’t tell your ego I said that.”

  Gaby’s students stood in their newly tidied workspaces, and I looked carefully at each area. Cleanliness was as—if not more—important than the cuisine. They all passed by casual inspection, and I returned to my space next to Gaby at the front of the room.

  She moved to clap her hands, and I reached to still them. “I think we’ve got their attention.”

  Nervous giggles ran around the room, and I smiled to try to dispel some of their anxiety, but I wouldn’t be able to make all of them happy. I’d only selected two of them to train in my restaurant under the guidance of my staff, learning from the best.

  I sighed and consulted the paper in front of me again—as if I didn’t already know what it said. I didn’t need a list of two names. I took a deep breath. “I’ve had a great time here today. Thank you so much for welcoming me into your classroom, putting up with an impromptu observation”—I paused and inhaled. August’s woodland scent teased at my nose—“And for feeding me.” I patted my stomach.

  “Anytime, Chef,” a voice called from the back.

  I didn’t even need to look. Jared. He certainly had the confidence it would take to succeed in an industry where criticism ran rampant and backstabbing seemed to exist in every kitchen. Except mine—I ran good kitchens, where my staff worked as a team, and they didn’t need to clamber over each other to gain my approval or find individual success.

  “Gaby…Chef Roberts and I have spoken at length—”

  Jared let loose a whistle, and I tensed. But maybe he was just excited, and I shouldn’t draw the announcement out.

  “In the end, we’ve narrowed it down to two names, but thank you all for taking part. I realize we didn’t give you time to prep or plan, and the decision was a hard one. You should all be very proud of your quality and skills.” The small lies tripped off my tongue. The decision had made itself, but none of them needed to know that. There were clear standout winners amongst them, but they were all employable, and I really wasn’t in the business of crushing spirits.

  Gaby stepped forward. “Thank you for coming, Chef Storm. And it’s great to see you back in Cedar Falls.” She laid her hand on my forearm and gave a gentle squeeze.

  It felt good to be back, even if I didn’t think too hard about why. The list shook as I raised it a little higher. “Okay, these are the two people I’d like to join me in my kitchen after graduation. Jared.” I read his name and my eyes skipped straight to August’s, on the line below.

  Holy hell… I couldn’t justify his name not being there, but at the same time, my throat had dried to the point maybe I couldn’t say it. Something about him called to my soul and also my body at the most basic level, but he’d be my employee and…he seemed so very young. I swallowed.

  Jared whooped and hollered, high-fiving nearby classmates. “I told you! I told you guys I’d do it.”

  I glanced up, seeking out August and meeting his eyes. “And August,” I murmured.

  August’s skin paled and his eyes closed as he bent over, resting all his weight on his hands on the counter. He didn’t look up for several moments, but when he did, his eyes glinted with emotion.

  I’d just changed this man’s life, and he knew it. His reaction to the news left me even more certain he was perfect for the position. Certainty that he’d take it seriously and work his hardest blazed through me and I nodded slightly to him, acknowledging his feelings.

  Then I focused on the rest of the class. “If any further positions open up, I’ll be in touch with Chef Roberts for her recommendations, so make sure you all keep working hard until graduation. Training starts the day after. Jared, August, I’ll see you then.”

  3

  August

  May 26th

  I wish I could say six months passed by in a rush, but they didn’t. I threw myself into my studies and my practical lessons, stretching higher and farther for new, more complicated techniques, and pushing myself to work harder as the last few weeks of the semester rolled in. Proving to Chef Roberts and myself that Ewin Storm had made the right choice when he selected me became my primary focus. I gave up nights out with Brody and Griff to practice dishes…although they didn’t complain when they got first shot at tasting.

  I drove by the site of Ewin’s restaurant often, watching as the team of workmen constructed the wooden frame. It seemed to rise from the landscape within days, and the buildings around it paled to insignificance as the tasteful touches I’d come to associate with Ewin’s brand were added to the outside space. I parked in the lot across the space so often, the workmen frequently waved when they saw me. I took enthusiasm to a whole new level. But I couldn’t help the rush of excitement and adrenaline churning in my gut as I drove home after each visit, and I couldn’t describe the thrill at being involved in the new venture.

  My only moment of doubt had been in rejecting Paris. I’d worked long and hard to convince myself I had nothing to stay in Cedar Falls for—after all, Dawson didn’t care enough to talk to me, even if the checks to cover school had arrived each month. I’d been moving as much to escape the past as to find my future.

  But Ewin had offered a new destiny, and it didn’t involve uprooting or changing my entire life. I tried to see it as some sort of sign. Currently the sign said, ‘work in progress.’

  Of course, Jared was insufferable.

  “Second place or just first place loser, Lennox?” he’d greeted me the day after Ewin’s visit.

  I ignored him, although general resentment wasn’t the working relationship I wanted to cultivate with him. He was probably receiving all the same emails and mail as me, although I doubted his staff handbook was already so tattered and careworn. I couldn’t help it.

  I’d slipped it into my backpack to study at the institute, and it had just never left my side. I could probably type out the entire thing from memory. And the emails about uniforms and dress codes, behavioral standards, and new staff instructions…I had a silent party for one each time a new missive slid into my inbox.

  Maybe the most exciting moment was when I opened the mock-up menu we’d be expected to cook for our first customers. Ewin believed in using fresh, in-season produce, but I practiced with anything I had on hand. None of the techniques I’d use were new, but a few were rusty.

  I think I managed a fairly passable attempt at an Ewin Storm dish. Brody and Griff left with full stomachs and smiles on their faces, anyway.

  Shit. Who knew graduation days were so stressful? My robe chafed the back of my neck. I hadn’t expected that, and I must have styled my hair wrong because the mortar board refused to stay in place. Maybe I should have listened to Griff when he suggested more gel. It might have worked as glue, if nothing else. I checked the zipper on my pants for the fourth time. Yep, still in place. I’d survive my graduation without an embarrassing ventilation moment.

  Panic and exhilaration warred for dominance inside me as my future looked alternately full of possibility and clouded with the very real chance of me crashing and burning once I stepped foot in a real kitchen…in Ewin Storm’s real kitchen. I took a slow breath in and released it through barely parted lips, fighting the threat of everyone around me seeing my anxiety displayed large and loud.

  “August Lennox!” The dean called my name, and I took the three steps onto the wooden stage someone had constructed on the sun-drenched front lawn of the institute.

  Wind rustled the trees shielding us from the general view of Cedar Falls and I smiled, tasting freedom on the breeze.

  Chef Roberts smiled as she handed me my rolled-up diploma, and she squeezed my hand, briefly. “So proud of you, August,” she whispered. “Stand over there to the left until you need to make your speech.”

  I
smiled but her words echoed in my mind. Shame my actual family couldn’t be proud enough to show up when I was graduating first in the class. I scanned the crowd again, but no Dawson.

  “August! August!” A quiet chant started somewhere behind the back row, and heat flooded my cheeks as I noticed Griff and Brody, my own personal cheering section, clapping to set their rhythm.

  I took the spot Chef Roberts had indicated and fidgeted with the roll of paper in my hands, teasing the ends of the ribbon, as I ran through the words of my speech in my head. I’d read it enough that I could probably recite it unconscious, but I still had the bullet points jotted down on cards in my pants pocket, just in case.

  Jared had wanted this honor, too, and a flicker of pity for him slid against my triumph. I didn’t want him as an enemy, but I didn’t want to ever be his second-place runner-up, either. I put him from my mind, careful not to even glance in his direction.

  Eventually, Chef Roberts announced the last name, and someone set up the podium and microphone in the center of the stage. Chef Roberts nodded me, and I walked forward, all feeling gone from my legs. My head buzzed with the noisy static of uncertainty and I looked out to my friends for their support.

  Brody flashed me a thumbs-up, and I smiled.

  “Thank you,” I murmured into the mic, testing it out as much as greeting the crowd. “Thank you for coming to our graduation today.” I indicated my classmates, in their seats at the front. “It’s been a wild few years.” I paused and swallowed. “When I started at the institute, it was because I had a passion for food and cooking but being here has helped me develop a skill to match that passion. I had a dream, and I’m living it. After today, we can all live our dreams. We don’t need to listen to anyone who tells us not to do what makes us happy. All we need is that first spark of passion, and everything else to make a dream come true can be learned. I’d like to think I’m proof of that.”

  I wished I’d used my prompt cards. My opening words had fallen out clunky and in the wrong order, but the essence of what I wanted to tell everyone had still been there, hopefully. I tugged at my shirt collar, loosening it around my throat before I dived back in to speaking.

  “While I was growing up, I never thought that I’d be in this position, addressing my graduating class and telling you not to give up on your dreams. But here I am, proof your circumstances at one point in your life won’t define your success later on. We all have it in us to succeed, and that’s the message I’d like to leave you with today.” I mangled more of my big moment and took a deep breath as I dug around in my pocket for my prompt cards. Maybe I just needed to stop talking about dreams and being proof. I closed my eyes to a sudden image of Ewin Storm, the thought of his melted chocolate eyes washing unexpected calm through me.

  A short while later, after finding and sticking to my much more sensible bullet points, I stepped back from the podium.

  Then I couldn’t hear anything over the roar of applause and cheering. Relief welled in my chest, and whatever had kept me anchored to my past snapped, leaving me floating, flying toward a successful future. My surroundings blurred as I walked from the stage.

  I made me way back to my seat, accepting back slaps and high-fives as I stumbled over people’s feet and squeezed between the narrow rows. Before I sat down, I lifted my gaze to take in the entire crowd. All these people here in support of my class’s success. Disbelief trickled through me. Surely I was unworthy. My next breath lodged in my throat.

  Ewin Storm stood behind the back row of seats, his gaze firmly on me. When I caught his eye, he grinned at me and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. I offered him an awkward wave in return before turning and sinking as low in my seat as possible. My new boss was hot.

  That could be an issue—and on way too many levels.

  Extra heat in the kitchen was never a good idea, but employee-employer romances never worked. And…and… I glanced at my friends, still grinning at me and making faces in my general direction. I didn’t know if they’d understand the lure of Ewin, given the age gap.

  I didn’t hear anything but droning voices for the rest of the speeches. I just couldn’t tune in. My neck prickled, but I didn’t dare turn around to see if Ewin was still at the back. I mean, of course he was still there. He didn’t attend just to watch me graduate. But wouldn’t it have been something if he had?

  As the last speaker finished and the last round of applause echoed away off the nearby copse of trees, my friends dragged me from my seat. Griffin pulled me into a huge bear hug, slapping my back with far too much enthusiasm, and Brody grinned at me over Griff’s shoulder.

  “Good going, man.” Brody’s eyes watered suspiciously as if my friend who never cried might actually shed a tear on my behalf.

  Griff slapped me again before he released me. “And now it’s time for you to earn your keep, dude. Stop hanging around classrooms and playing with your food.”

  Brody laughed. “Come on, we’ve got a couple of cold ones waiting at Ryker’s bar. Start as you mean to go on, and get a round in. First of many, right?”

  As we arrived in the parking lot to Voss’s Draft House, my stomach rumbled.

  “You skip breakfast?” Griff leaned forward from the back and tapped my shoulder.

  Ugh. My face had been green as I looked at myself in the mirror this morning. Food usually ruled my world, but apparently not right before graduation. “Something like that.”

  “I’m sure Ryker can whip up a celebratory burger or two.” Brody threw his door open and jumped down from his SUV.

  I followed across the sunny parking lot then took a deep breath of the familiar interior of Ryker’s bar as we swung the heavy door open to the dim interior. I wasn’t big on the down-home country look of all the exposed wood in the Draft House but I enjoyed the way the scent of it mingled with the solid smell of hops and sharp aromas of spirits.

  I closed my eyes briefly as the sight of Ryker brought back memories of Dawson. I’d never be able to thank Ryker for everything he’d done for me since my brother left.

  I caught Ryker’s eye across the polished bar, and he grinned. “Put it there, August. I always knew you’d turn out good.” He thrust his arm out, and I clasped his hand. “What can I get you? Lunch on the house?” He nudged the bartender standing to his left. “Did you hear about August yet, Noah? He’s going to be one of our greats.”

  Noah looked my way and offered a shy smile before he returned to polishing glasses.

  “I don’t need food on the house. You’ve done enough.” I shook my head. At Ryker “I mean, way…way more than I could have ever…I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you. Just thank you so much. When Dawson left—”

  Ryker offered a shake of his own head in return. “Think nothing of it, dude. You weren’t exactly hard to keep an eye on. And Dawson…” He flattened his lips into a thin line and shook his head again. “He’d be proud, you know?” He clinked some glasses together as he slotted them back into place under the bar.

  I didn’t reply. How could I possibly know that? I had a brother…once. But he’d abandoned me. Who knew if he’d be proud or not? But today wasn’t the day for thinking about Dawson. He didn’t deserve the attention.

  I forced a smile for Ryker. “Just burgers and beer, please, but make it large—I’m pretty hungry after all that graduating. I didn’t eat breakfast.” My mouth almost watered as my mind supplied the meaty taste of one of Ryker’s burgers in a sweet brioche bun.

  He laughed. “You roughing it before you start making those miniscule cordon bleu little mouthfuls?” He laughed again as he put the order through, the old-fashioned cash register dinging as he shoved the drawer shut. “One trip down memory lane, it is. Be with you as soon as it’s ready.” His attention strayed over my shoulder, and his grin widened then he stepped out from behind the bar and crossed behind me.

  I turned to see who’d caught his attention. Ewin Storm. And he’d changed into a flannel shirt—the fibers so fluffy I wanted to rub m
y cheek against his chest—and jeans that looked as if they’d been molded to his thighs.

  My throat dried, and I took a backward step to the table Griff and Brody had grabbed in the corner, unbalancing a little on the uneven floorboards as I moved, but I couldn’t tear my gaze away from my brother’s oldest friend standing alongside my new boss.

  Ryker approached Ewin, his arms open wide, and the two men hugged underneath the ridiculous antler chandelier Ryker still hadn’t thrown in the trash. Then, as they parted and talked over each other in greeting, something stirred my thoughts—I didn’t know why I hadn’t made the connection before. Ewin was returning to Cedar Falls, and he and Ryker looked about the same age. They probably grew up together, too, just like Ewin and Chef Roberts went to the institute together.

  I watched them a little while longer, almost forgetting myself, and I hesitated too long in returning to Brody and Griff.

  “Come on, August… Where are our drinks?”

  I cringed. I’d know Griff’s loudmouth anywhere, especially the way it blared over the music playing from Ryker’s jukebox.

  And his shout attracted Ewin’s attention, who looked at me and his eyes widened slightly as I finished taking my seat opposite Brody.

  “Hey, August. Great speech.” Before I could even get my thoughts in order, Ewin strode toward me, greeting me as he approached our table. “Another beer over here, please, Ry.”

  I couldn’t even utter a word—okay, so I might have squeaked a little—as he sat in the chair next to me.

  “I’ve wasted too many hours in here in years gone by.” He laughed. “Nothing like the smell of stale beer and chemical cleaner to remind you of home, though.”

  “Hey!” Ryker unloaded four beers onto the table. “Watch that mouth, man. There’s no stale beer here.”

  “Table service, though. That’s new.” Ewin observed, his raised voice loud in the quiet of the pre-lunchtime rush of the bar.