The Hotshot Chef: A Billionaire Holiday Romance (International Bad Boys Set Book 3)

by JA Low

  I turn my head to look over at her. “One man does not make you a slut. When my divorce came through, I lost track of how many women I had in that first month. Now that’s a manwhore.” I grin over at her.

  Quinn just shakes her head. “No, you’re a man. Unfortunately, the media probably high-fived you.” She sinks further into the car seat.

  “Not when most of those women were my ex-wife’s best friends.”

  Quinn’s head slowly turns, her blue eyes now wide open with shock.

  “Sebastien,” she says my name on a gasp. “That was—”

  “Yeah, I know… pretty bad form. But I was angry and so upset that I wanted her to hurt as much as I was hurting,” I confess.

  “I get that.” She turns back to look at Barcelona as we head into town. “Oh, wow!” Her eyes widen, and she moves forward while staring out the car window. “Look at all these buildings. They’re so gorgeous… and old. Look at all the history.” She gasps.

  “We aren’t far,” I tell her as she continues to ooh and aah at the architecture, which makes me smile seeing her enthusiasm for my city.

  Eventually, we pull into the underground parking garage of my apartment building, one of the only ones in the area. I grab her things, and she follows after me. I press the button on the elevator. Soon after, it arrives, and we get in. It takes me straight up to my apartment on the top floor, and I usher her into my home.

  “Sebastien…” She gasps as she bypasses everything and heads toward the balcony. She slides open the glass door and rushes to the edge. “What a view.” As she soaks in the hustle and bustle of Barcelona beneath her, the sunlight hits her at the right angle and bathes her in steams of light. She looks like she’s glowing like she’s an angel that has fallen from the sky.

  Shaking my head, I think, Where the hell did that come from. Get it together, Sebastien.

  Quinn turns around to face me. Her face is lit with a huge smile.

  “I’m in love with Barcelona.” She grins. “Can we go exploring,” she asks excitedly.

  “Of course. Don’t you want to rest up after your flight?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope, I feel invigorated. I might have a shower and get changed, but then I need to see everything!”

  I nod my head and show her to her room, where she will be staying for the next week, so she can freshen up. Then I sit and check my cell while I wait.

  “Okay, I’m ready to explore.” She walks out, and I nearly swallow my tongue. She’s wearing very short denim cut-offs, a simple white T-shirt that looks like it’s straining against her large chest, and a pair of light pink chucks. I swallow hard. She has a wide brim hat in one hand, a small black backpack and glasses in the other. Her blonde hair is freshly washed and looks like she’s air drying it. “I want the full local Barcelona experience.” She smiles at me, and it touches her eyes.

  “Of course.” Jumping up off of my sofa, I guide her by the back to the door. “Barcelona awaits,” I state, and she follows me out of the apartment.

  It takes us a little longer to wander down to the Plaça de la Vila de Gràcia as Quinn stops and admires everything. It’s awesome seeing your hometown through fresh eyes. You forget how beautiful everything is because you see it daily, so you tend to gloss over areas while you’re rushing around doing your errands.

  “This place is charming. History is written all over every single building,” Quinn muses. “I think the oldest thing on my old farm in Texas was a barn that was built in 1910.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I can’t imagine having a building that is like three hundred years old in my city.”

  We continue along the little streets until we make it to Plaça de la Vila de Gràcia.

  “Oh my God…” Quinn turns to me. “This is the cutest little square, and look at that clock tower.” She points up at the tower. The square is filled with people enjoying their day, and the cafés and shops are filled with patrons around the outskirts.

  We continue to the Casa Mila or La Pedrera, one of Gaudi’s masterpieces.

  “Wow!” She stares at the stone apartment building with its waves and pointy towers on top. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  “Gaudi was a distinguished architect here in Barcelona, and he has created some of Barcelona’s famous landmarks,” I explain to her. “We can check them out during your stay.”

  She excitedly claps her hands together.

  We continue wandering the streets, stopping at local stores so Quinn can have a look. We walk past one of the most famous of Gaudi’s work, the stunning Casa Batlló.

  “It’s so beautiful.” Quinn stares in marvel at it. This gorgeous building’s façade looks like an ancient gingerbread house, and the roof looks like it’s made from mermaid scales. Crazy-shaped balconies line the wall, and there are little twisty towers. The walls have a ceramic glaze with glass fragments stuck to the outside, and when the sun catches it, the entire building sparkles.

  “They wouldn’t build something like this in Texas,” Quinn whispers to me.

  We check out the other famous buildings that surround Casa Batlló.

  Eventually, we make it to the famous La Rambla, which is touristy, but I don’t think Quinn is going to care. We follow the streets stopping for ice cream and coffee and maybe some retail therapy too. We make it all the way down to the harbor, where we take a seat resting our weary feet and look at the expensive yachts bobbing in the water.

  Quinn sucks in a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh. “I love this place.” She smiles. “I feel comfortable here.”

  “What do mean?” I ask while trying not to drip ice cream everywhere.

  “I can see why you wanted to come home,” she tells me. “There’s something magical about this city that feels like it’s slowly seeping into my bones.” She muses. “It feels like home.” Quinn turns and looks at me. “I used to feel at home in Texas…” she plays with her fingers, “… and it will always have my heart, but it doesn’t feel like home anymore. Do you know what I mean?” I nod my head in understanding. “Maybe I’m a little lost,” she adds quietly.

  I reach out and place my hand over hers on the park bench. “Give yourself some time, Quinn. You’ll find what you’re looking for when the time is right.”

  She’s putting too much pressure on herself to work everything out right now. Quinn has all the time in the world to find her new path, and maybe it might just be in Barcelona.

  24

  Quinn

  I must have slept through my alarm after getting back from our day traipsing around Barcelona because it’s dark by the time I get up. I can hear voices as I walk out into the living room, and other than Sebastien, there’s a hot guy as well.

  “You’re awake,” Sebastien greets me.

  “I feel like I’ve slept all day. What time is it?”

  “It’s early, nearly nine in the evening,” the hot guy answers. That doesn’t seem early to me.

  “Sorry. Quinn, this is my younger brother, Joaquin,” Sebastien introduces me.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Holding out my hand to him, he takes it and kisses the back. I turn and see Sebastien sending his brother daggers. I give Joaquin a small smile as I pull my hand away.

  “If you’re up for it, you are more than welcome to join us for dinner,” Sebastien asks.

  “We’re meeting friends at our local,” Joaquin adds.

  I wonder if these friends include the woman that I overheard them talking about on the phone.

  “Great food, wine, music.” Joaquin turns on the charm.

  “Why not.” I give him a smile. “Can you give me a moment to get ready? I won’t be long.” Turning on my heel, I rush back into the bedroom, then pull out all my clothes searching for something that doesn’t scream country bumpkin. Because I can guarantee these people are going to look hip and sophisticated, which, let’s be honest, isn’t really me. Where’s Derrick when I need him? I decide on my cute boyfriend style jeans, a black slouchy blouse with
some heels, and I pull my hair up into a high ponytail, then add a statement necklace and some earrings.

  “Okay, I’m ready.” Walking back out into the living room after I took a quick selfie to send to Lettie for her approval, Sebastien turns, and I notice him give me a full sweep before he realizes he’s done it.

  “Great.” He clears his throat while his brother laughs.

  We head on down to the street level and begin to walk along the gorgeous ancient streets.

  “So, how have you enjoyed Barcelona so far?” Joaquin asks me.

  “I love it,” I answer enthusiastically which makes him chuckle.

  “I see someone has fallen under Barcelona’s spell already.” He gives me a sly grin.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love Texas. But I don’t know, there’s something to be said about starting afresh halfway across the world where nobody knows you.” Shrugging my shoulders, we continue to walk.

  “It worked for my brother, so it will work for you,” Joaquin adds.

  I turn and look over at Sebastien, who appears lost in his thoughts. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a group of teenage girls rush at Joaquin and start screaming at him. They practically push Sebastien and me out of the way to get to him. He poses for photographs and chats with them like it’s normal behavior.

  “Joaquin is a bit of a heartthrob here in Spain,” Sebastien whispers into my ear.

  “Well, well, well… I see the playboy gene runs in the family.” Elbowing him in the side, I grin.

  “Difference is… Joaquin loves it.” He looks over and shakes his head as his brother gives the teenagers what they’re after. Eventually, Joaquin disentangles himself from them and rejoins us as we lazily walk to wherever it is we are heading.

  “You made their night,” I tell him.

  “Of course,” he states humbly. He reaches over and puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his hard side. “They have had the Joaquin Sanchez experience.”

  “You thought my ego was big, his is bigger,” Sebastien adds.

  “Not just my ego.” Joaquin gives me a wink while his brother chastises him. He skips off before laughing to himself.

  “Healthy egos run in the family, too, then?”

  “Apparently,” Sebastien grumbles.

  We stop in front of a gorgeous bright blue bistro or bar with gold lettering above the door. There are people spilling out onto the street. There’s a buzz going on inside, just like all the other little places we passed along the way.

  Joaquin leads us through the bustle of busy diners, saying ‘Hola’ to the numerous people that call out his name, as does Sebastien.

  An older man greets us, then leads us down a long corridor and out to the back courtyard, which has one long wooden table down the center. Fairy lights twinkle in the palm trees that surround the edges of the white picket fence which corners off the courtyard.

  Joaquin and Sebastien’s names are called out from the group already sitting down. The guys hug and kiss their way around the table, chatting to the various hipsters and gorgeous people already there.

  “Everyone, I would love you all to meet Quinn Miller, from Texas, who thought it would be a great idea to be my co-star on this crazy journey,” Sebastien explains to everyone.

  They all raise their glasses in my direction shouting greetings to me.

  “I don’t think either of us had much of a choice,” I say to the group, which makes the table burst out laughing. The group urges us to sit. A beautiful brunette shuffles down as I sit beside her.

  “It is so nice to meet you.” She greets me with a double-cheek kiss. “We have heard so much about you.”

  That’s nice, seeing as I’m not sure who she is.

  Sebastien sits across from me at the table.

  “I’m Maya, their cousin.” She points to Sebastien and Joaquin.

  Well, I never thought I’d be meeting some of the family already.

  “It’s so nice to meet you, too.”

  “Would you like some sangria?” Sebastien asks.

  Not sure what that is, but why not. He pours me a large glass and hands it to me. It has chunks of fruit floating in red liquid. I take a sip—okay, that contains alcohol for sure.

  “It’s red wine, brandy, and fruit.” Sebastien grins.

  The concoction tastes delicious—I can see it’s probably going to give me a hangover.

  “Have you tried tapas before, Quinn?” Maya asks.

  “No. Never.” Looking at the tiny plates of food that are laid out down the middle of the table, Maya’s face lights up.

  “You’re not allergic to anything, are you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Good.” Maya turns to Sebastien and tells him in Spanish, “Hotshot Chef, fix Quinn some tapas for her to try. Oh, and she’s cute,” she adds at the end.

  Sebastien looks over at me, then shakes his head, turning back to glare at his cousin.

  “I asked Sebastien to put a plate together for you, seeing he is the chef of the group,” she explains.

  Makes sense.

  Then she gets up and takes Sebastien’s seat. By the time he returns from grabbing me some goodies, the only spot left is right beside me. Sebastien stares at the seat, then over to his cousin, and then back again. He lets out a frustrated huff and sits. Then he places the plate between us.

  “This is chorizo in red wine.” He places a bite-sized morsel on the fork and feeds me. A little random and a little intimate, some might say. I look around the table to see if anyone has noticed, but they are all happily chatting away.

  “Mmm… that was nice. What’s chorizo?” I ask.

  “Spanish sausage,” he explains. Nice. “Next, salt cod fritta.”

  It looks like a golden tater tot. He pops it in my mouth, and it’s yummy. I’m not the biggest seafood eater, but this tastes amazing, or maybe it’s the sangria going to my head as I take another sip to wash down my food. I give him a thumbs-up, which makes him chuckle.

  Sebastien offers me another golden fried little ball this time. It’s a croquette made of ham and cheese. Bite after bite, he talks to me about the food, explaining that Spanish cuisine is defined by where you are in Spain. Barcelona is in the Catalonia district of Spain, so it’s heavy on seafood because it runs along the Mediterranean coast. There are a lot of farms, so fresh vegetables like tomatoes, garlic, mushrooms, and eggplant are used a lot in their food as well as olives. Pork is the main meat in the area. He then explains some of the other areas of Spain and what’s local to those regions.

  “We have a lot of TexMex food in our area, which is quite different from traditional Spanish food. Texans have put a spin on it,” I muse.

  “You do realize Spain and Mexico are two completely different countries,” he asks me seriously.

  “Of course, I do.” Punching him in the arm, offended that he thinks I’m some ignorant tourist, I continue with, “I know that the Spanish settled there, but I didn’t know how much influence you had over the Mexican cuisine,” I tell him.

  “So, you’re used to eating Mexican food, then?” he asks.

  “Not really. Mexican food is super spicy for me,” I tell him as I pop an olive into my mouth.

  “And you don’t do spice?”

  I shake my head. He muses over this before he gets pulled away into a conversation. I happily sip my Sangria as I listen to the conversations around me.

  “What is she doing here?” I hear a female voice behind me say in Spanish. I turn around and see a tall, tanned brunette kissing Maya while throwing daggers my way. I pretend I don’t understand and smile at her, then sip on my sangria and look away.

  “Sabine, be nice,” Maya hisses at the woman. “She’s Sebastien’s colleague.”

  “I don’t see what the fuss is all about,” Sabine says. “She’s very American. Very… simple,” she adds with a chuckle.

  “Behave,” Maya hisses at her.

  “I always behave,” Sabine tells her. “Sebastien,” she calls out.
He spins around and stills for a moment, then gives her a gritted-teeth smile.

  Why is he not happy to see her? Maybe it’s awkward seeing your one-night stand again. She walks over to Sebastien, leans over, and bumps my hand which sends sangria all over me.

  Well, shit! Thank goodness I’m not wearing a white shirt tonight. Otherwise, this stuff would be hard to get out.

  “Sabine,” Maya calls out, cursing her friend.

  As I jump, I feel the cool liquid run down my chest and pool inside my bra. Eww.

  “Oh, sorry, I did not see you there,” she says in perfect English, giving me a fake giggle.

  25

  Quinn

  “Quinn, are you okay?” Sebastien looks over at me.

  “I’m fine.” Waving his concern away, I shake the drips off of me. “I might head home, though. Sangria is sticky.” Chuckling because there’s a little tension at the end of our table, Sebastien gets up and stands beside me. “I’ll take you home, then.”

  “What, no. You stay with your friends,” I tell him. I’m not going to let a jealous woman like Sabine ruin my first night in Barcelona for me.

  “No. It’s your first night, and I’m not sure you know how to get back to my place, anyway.”

  Oh yeah, he’s right. I wasn’t paying much attention on the walk here.

  “She’s staying with you?” Sabine asks him in Spanish, her tone sounds surprised.

  Ha. Take that, you Spanish bitch.

  “Of course, she is. I wouldn’t want her anywhere else,” Sebastien answers her.

  Oooh, burn, I think to myself.

  Sebastien makes his way around the table, saying his goodbyes to everyone while Sabine huffs beside me.

  “Guess you didn’t think that through very well, did you?” I whisper to her in perfect Spanish. Her mouth falls open as she stares at me. Maya tries to hide her giggle. Turning my back on bitchy Sabine, I say my goodbyes to Maya, who has been so welcoming tonight.

  “We need to catch up again soon. How about I take you shopping?” Maya questions in English.