by Jill Haven
“This is about my career. It’s not an ego thing. I don’t want you blowing smoke up my ass with fake praise. I want to learn, and I want you to teach me.”
He stopped moving, his back still to me. “You’re perfect,” he mumbled.
But I wasn’t supposed to hear that. He hadn’t meant those two words for me. And they stung. Panic flared through me. Of course I wasn’t perfect. I needed correction as much as the next chef in the room, and I needed reining in when a flight of fancy took me too far from a signature recipe.
“Is that what you think? That I’m just showing off?” I paused as he half turned back to me, as if I’d captured his interest. “Please. Just give me another chance to show you. I don’t mean to show off and try to be perfect, I promise.” If I lost this, I lost everything I’d lived for since Dawson moved away. I’d have nothing.
Ewin turned the rest of the way, finally meeting my gaze, and his eyes widened at whatever he saw in my face. Perhaps my desperation shone from my eyes, after all.
“Please,” I whispered again.
He sighed again, deeply, as if he’d dredged it up from some deep well of sadness inside himself and took a step toward me.
He joined me leaning against the prep table, then straightened, putting some distance back between us. “I’m sorry.” He closed his mouth as if that completed his thought, but then he started to speak again. “I’m really sorry. You have done absolutely nothing wrong. You’re an amazing chef.” He gave a half laugh. “And you practically live by my motto.”
“Have fun, take care, and put your heart into it,” I whispered.
He nodded. “You’re doing very well, and I’d be repeating myself to tell you how impressed I am every day. But I knew…from what I saw at the institute, I knew you have incredible potential. You really do.”
“Then today was…?” I let my question drift. Today was actually really shitty. Leaving me hanging, letting me wonder if I wasn’t making the grade, if I should have packed my bags and headed to Europe after all.
“Today…today…” He flopped his head backward as if the ceiling had suddenly become a source of great interest and scratched his neck, the rasp of his close-cropped stubble filling the air and releasing more spicy, honeyed scent. “Today was just a really shit day. I’m sorry, August. I fucked up, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have, and it won’t happen again.”
He met my gaze, and the light of promise burned in his eyes.
I nodded. “All right. No problem. So just keep doing as I’m doing?”
He laughed, relief threading through the musical tones. “Exactly as you’re doing. Don’t change perfect.”
“Okay.” I pushed away from the bench. “That was all I needed to know. Let me know if your assessment changes, and I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. And I hope whatever was shitty today is better tomorrow.” I grabbed my backpack and slung it onto my shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
As I took my first stride away, Ewin clasped my wrist, the pressure light but enough to stop my movement. Warmth spread from his touch, right through my body to low in my abdomen, and I closed my eyes, biting back a gasp.
When I’d composed myself, my eyes flickered open and locked with Ewin’s. The warmth turned to a raging torrent of blistering heat, and I waited for Ewin to say something, to acknowledge what I felt. Or not. Something, anything.
Instead, he shook his head, the movement quick and decisive and released me. I cradled my wrist to my chest, smoothing over the sensitive skin that still bore his touch like a brand.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, August.” He disappeared back to his office, and I watched him go, straining to hear the door click shut behind him.
Then I took small jerky steps to the door and pushed it open so I could leave. My insides flopped around and my thoughts refused to merge coherently. It was a wonder my legs even remembered how to walk rather than embarrassing me and leaving me stranded on the floor of Ewin’s kitchen.
Excitement buzzed through me as I waited for Dmitri the next morning. I read through the dishes I needed to prepare and took out my equipment, but my attention kept drifting toward the clock, and I watched the seconds tick by.
“Has your mentor given up on you and gone away already? I don’t blame him.” Jared’s voice grated across my nerves, and my shoulders stiffened at the sound of it.
“He’s just late,” I ground out as I focused on the list of ingredients again.
“Dmitri not in yet?” Ewin’s voice poured over me like warm maple syrup, and I stifled a shiver of anticipation.
I needed to get myself under control. He was a hot older alpha, sure, but he was my boss first, and I needed the job more than I needed a distraction. After waiting just a beat to calm my sudden flare of desire, I turned and forced a grin to my face.
“Not yet.” The lightness I tried to inject into my tone came out constricted and tight, and I coughed as if I merely needed to clear my throat.
“You coming down with something?” The concern in Ewin’s voice threatened to unravel my tenuous control of my feelings, and I shook my head.
“No. No germs. No infections. I don’t have a virus. The food in the kitchen is safe with me. I won’t be coughing or sneezing anywhere. Like ever again. No sirree.” My mouth took off, blurting absolute nonsense, and I watched Ewin with increasing horror filling my chest as his eyes widened.
He nodded. “Okay then.”
“Ewin, call for you in the office.” The slightly nasal tones of Ewin’s assistant, Valerie, cut across the kitchen.
“I’ve got to take that.” Ewin’s words were unnecessary, and I waved him away as he turned to go. Lord, let the man leave before I embarrassed myself further.
I washed my hands, focusing on the noise of the water as it splashed into the stainless steel sink. Shit. Why did Ewin have such an effect on me? I was just considering whether Paris would have been my better option after all, when Ewin spoke behind me, and I jumped.
“It’s bad news.”
I turned, wiping my hands on a towel. Ewin had paled, and I reached out to smooth his upper arm and reassure him.
But he flinched away. “Dmitri wiped out on his bike last night. He’s made a mess of his leg.”
I slumped against the prep counter. “Oh, no. But he’s…”
“Yes, I spoke to Shelly, his wife, and she said he’s doing okay under the circumstances.”
“Do we know…When…when he will…” I took a deep breath. I couldn’t ask when he’d be back. Not when he’d just been in an accident.
But Ewin seemed to know, and I didn’t have to finish my question. “I’m going to make some calls. I’ll try my Indianapolis restaurant and see if they can spare someone for you. Just hang in there, and I’ll be back.” He glanced around. “You look as if you’ve got it under control but maybe go and join up over there in case you have any questions that crop up?” He indicated Jared’s workstation, and I groaned.
I hadn’t really run up against Jared too much since we started training. Only the odd comment he sent my way to try to inspire a reaction. I rarely gave him one.
But I had to work alongside him if I wanted to make this work. “No problem,” I said, then pressed my lips together to stop any more words from falling out.
Jared glanced up as I approached his station. “Coming to learn from the professionals today?”
I smiled, although the tightness of my lips almost hurt. “Something like that,” I agreed as I shook hands with Jared’s mentor.
“Or is it just because you need extra training and you need to see me get it right so you know what to do?”
When I didn’t respond, he continued.
“Or maybe you’re just over here because Chef finally wised up to the fact you’re not as good as everyone else thinks you are.” He finished with a smug curl to his lips, and irritation licked through me.
“Actually,” I said, the word slow and deliberate so he wouldn’t mishear me. “I’m better.”<
br />
Next to me, Jared’s mentor barked out a laugh, which he quickly smothered. Jared’s face flushed an angry red, and he drew his eyebrows into a deep scowl.
Satisfied at his silence, I reached across the workspace and picked up a carrot, relaxing into the prep work for the day’s dishes.
I pushed the little julienne matchsticks to one side of my chopping board and reached for another carrot, but as I leaned over, I caught Ewin’s eye as he hurried in my direction. My face heated at the sight of him, and I swallowed another flicker of irritation—this time, at myself. I couldn’t let a dumb inappropriate crush override everything else in this kitchen.
“Oh, look who’s coming back,” Jared hissed. “Better hope he’s found you a new mentor. I’ll tell him you’re impossible to work with, if not, and make it so he won’t be able keep you.”
Ewin let loose a sigh as he arrived at the workstation. Lately, it seemed to be how he often announced his presence at my side.
“It’s not great news,” he started.
“Do I still have a space in your kitchen?” I interrupted, then turned away from the smug smile on Jared’s face, angry with myself that I’d let his words affect me.
Ewin looked at me for a second then tugged my sleeve, drawing me closer to my own, empty, workstation. “Of course you do.” His voice softened. “I told you last night how well you’re doing.” Then his gaze sharpened again, and his hand dropped away. “But my Indy restaurant can’t release anyone until closer to opening day.”
Opening day? That was still about six weeks away. “No one can come until July?” I couldn’t prevent the disbelief that colored my voice. “That…that just seems like a long time, is all.” That long without training and guidance would leave me so far behind the others. “What am I supposed to do?”
Please don’t say continue to share with Jared. I wasn’t sure how closely I could work with that guy and restrain my temper, and he’d pretty much told me he’d go out of his way to sabotage me, even if it meant getting me kicked out of the kitchen.
“I promised you all mentor-led training. It’s how my kitchens work. It’s the very foundation of my success and works on my absolute belief in how people should be brought into the industry…But what to do…” He whispered the last part then hesitated and glanced at Jared’s workstation, frowning slightly, while I wished for the psychic powers to prevent him from placing me there.
Finally, he gave his head a quick shake. “Fuck it. I’ll do it. You need a mentor. I’m here. I’ll be your mentor.”
My stomach dropped away as I stared at his grim expression. His eyes blazed as if with purpose, and he locked his jaw.
“Th…thank you.”
He nodded. “Yeah. I’m going to take the rest of the day to prepare. I have some jobs I can hand off to Valerie, and I’ll finish up some other stuff. See you tomorrow.” Then he turned on his heel and marched stiffly through the kitchen.
I stared after him. Holy shit.
My day at Jared’s station dragged. Ewin ran in for the taste testing but was gone so quickly I didn’t even seem to turn around in time to see him sample my dishes. Never mind, I’d have his sole attention tomorrow, and the thought both excited me and sent a thrill of fear to ice my veins.
I climbed into my car exhausted, as though I’d just completed an Ironman course and been found wanting. I slumped against the seat then reached for my cell phone as it buzzed in my jacket pocket. I glanced at the screen. Another cryptic message from the gossip site.
Are a certain omega’s dreams coming true right before his eyes? Watch out, little one. It can get a bit heated in the kitchen.
My pulse kicked up as I pushed the car into drive and headed home. Things were definitely hot in my kitchen, but would I end up getting burned? I shook my head. There seemed to be more danger in me burning myself if I danced too close to Ewin’s flame.
6
Ewin
I stayed in my office as the light dwindled and the sounds from the kitchen faded to nothing after the exit door banged one last time. I rested my head in my hands. What had I done? There was no point in even asking that question. A hollow opened inside me.
I’d lied.
I chugged a swallow of water to ease my drying throat then rubbed my palms over my cheeks.
I never lied. I just didn’t do it. It was bad for business and bad for morale.
But something about August, about his passion for cooking, his enthusiasm, and his woodland omega scent…
Argh! I swept the paperwork and books off my desk and they crashed to the floor. I had a chef in Indianapolis ready, willing, and able to head straight to Cedar Falls. I’d explained all about August and his talent, and Jonas had agreed right away.
Except something tugged deep inside me, and I couldn’t let August go again. I couldn’t watch him as he bent over his work, so close to another. Not again.
So, I’d train him. I could do that and remain professional. I had a reputation and a kitchen to maintain. I’d never let my business or my employees down before. And this one was here in Cedar Falls for Mom. I wouldn’t let her down, either.
Except thoughts of August still thumped like a drumbeat through my head. And it tore me up. I wanted him…but I shouldn’t. Yet I also wanted to push him to achieve, and I had to do that. I saw a lot of myself when I started out in him. Except maybe he had more talent.
I couldn’t waste that, especially not when he’d chosen me over Paris. My heart fluttered at that fact—he’d chosen me and what I could offer. But I had to take him seriously. I had to train him to fulfill his potential, just as I’d promised.
What better way than by becoming his mentor? He could learn directly from me, I could put him in touch with others to further his talents—when he was ready—I could take him under my wing and nurture him. Protect him.
I just didn’t know how I’d survive it.
Huffing a sigh, I stood and walked around my desk to gather the things I’d launched over the side. I didn’t need Valerie asking questions about the mess in the morning.
And morning arrived too quickly. For the first time in years, I spent longer than three minutes in the shower. I worried about my appearance, fussing over the wave of my hair—shit, was that a gray one? I plucked it out, just in case—and a wrinkle in my pants. Better the wrinkles in my pants than ones on my face, though. I sighed and rolled my eyes at myself. I never did this.
I even almost forgot to call The Cedar House on my drive into work, and only hit the speed dial as I swung into the parking lot. Chatting about Mom’s status kept me in the car longer than I would have liked, and when I hung up and checked the time, I’d overrun. So much for my carefully crafted casual arrival.
I’d planned to sweep in, no-nonsense, set the training tone with August, and work him so hard that we didn’t even have time to glance at each other, never mind chat. Instead, I crashed my way in, the collar of my black jacket clenched tightly in my fist and my backpack spilling its contents over the floor.
Everyone looked up.
“Chef.” Jared nodded, his greeting courteous but his lips twitching.
I didn’t need to attract that guy’s amusement.
Just business…just business…just business… I chanted the words over and over again in my head. I didn’t need anything else. I wasn’t looking for anything else. Besides, we were in full view of my entire kitchen of chefs. Training August would be easy.
I set my backpack down and my hands shook as I reached in to grab the day’s recipes.
“Morning.” Already, August stood too close—as if he had no concept at all of personal space.
“Morning.” I focused on the handwritten notes I’d made in some of the margins. “I hope you’re ready for a busy day. We’ve got the training meals to make, and I wanted you to try this extra one. A challenge.” Then I made my first mistake. I glanced at August, and he grinned.
“I love a challenge,” he murmured.
I couldn’t thi
nk so I waved in the direction of the pantry. “Get the…get the…things.”
He grinned again. “Yes, Chef.”
August ran through the planned menu dishes flawlessly, so I presented him with the additional recipe sheet.
“This was originally my mother’s recipe. I’ve tweaked it over the years and now we’re ready to serve it to customers in my restaurants.”
“Wow. A family recipe?” August touched the sheet of paper with reverence. “I’m honored. Thank you.”
I forced a shrug. “It’s just a dish we’ll serve these days.”
His eyes met mine, serious. “Never. I don’t believe it will ever be that. Have fun, take care, and put your heart into it.”
Warmth spread through me. He couldn’t possibly have known the importance of cooking Mom’s recipes, and serving them to the citizens of her hometown, but somehow, he understood.
“Okay, now.” I spoke briskly, business-like. “Mom’s cooking was good, but there are some techniques you’ll need to know to get this restaurant perfect. I’ve made some notes for you. Can I leave you here to read those while I check on the other stations?”
He nodded, already poring over the recipe in his hands, and I walked away, able to breathe more freely the farther I moved from the fresh scent of woodland moss. I didn’t need to check on the others. I had utmost trust in my chefs. But I did need to be away from August.
When I returned, I nodded in approval. He was nailing it.
“Oops, steady.” I caught his hand just as he went to add my custom herb and spice blend. “Be careful. The high notes are volatile. Their flavors will release quickly over the heat.” I reached for a spoon. “We should taste it as we go to ensure the perfect flavor.”
He smiled as he took the spoon from my hand. I let go of it immediately, not wanting to brush against his fingers. Even the thought of touching his skin had me shifting my stance to relieve the pressure in my pants.
