He shrugged, staring at the dish I’d been experimenting with in front of me—a croque monsieur that I’d made with heirloom tomatoes, jalapeno jam, and gruyere cheese. I couldn’t decide whether to add thinly sliced prosciutto or thick slices of peppered bacon.
“I don’t know,” Ezra admitted. “I thought we were too, but now Molly is going to all these lengths to put on the perfect brunch and make sure you’re there and he’s there… It feels right to move back to when things were formal and unfamiliar.”
I laughed at his silly overprotectiveness. “You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?”
He nodded. He did know that. “So, should I tell her you’ll be there?”
“Let’s trade favors,” I suggested. Sucking in a shaky breath, I set my knife down and planted my hands on the counter. “I want to change things up here.”
His eyebrows furrowed over his nose. “What do you mean? Like the menu?”
“I mean, like a lot of things.” I launched into a pitch about the menu change, honing in on my casual French philosophy and then adding in the brunch idea and a couple different happy hour suggestions the staff had helped me come up with.
“You don’t want to change the menu, you want to restructure the entire restaurant from top to bottom.”
Nibbling my bottom lip, I decided honesty was better than blowing smoke up his ass. “This place is failing, Ezra. You know that. You probably know that more than anybody. You hired me to fix that for you. I’ve only been here a little while, but it’s been long enough to understand that what we’re doing now isn’t working. Not even a little bit. This place needs an overhaul or it’s going to fail. And I would really, really like for my first time as captain to not be of a sinking ship.”
He smiled, his eyes flashing with awe. “I would like that for you too.”
“Will you sign off on the changes?”
“You want to change a lot, Dillon. And those changes sound pricey,” he argued, shifting back into the frugal, domineering business genius I knew him to be.
“But if the changes bring in more clientele, they’ll pay for themselves. Right now, not changing isn’t an option. I don’t know how much longer you can go on bleeding money like this, but if I were you and there were other options available, I would at least explore them.” He appeared to be listening intently, so I pushed on. “And the brunch thing doesn’t have to be permanent. We have the freedom to explore it and then pull back if we’re doing better in the evenings. But I’ve done my research in this area, Ez, and there aren’t upscale brunch or breakfast spots in this area. But there are a lot of churches. Which means a lot of people out and about during the breakfast hours on Sunday. This could work.”
He stared at me. “I hate when you call me Ez.”
I smiled, I couldn’t help it. “Or it could fail,” I answered honestly. “Friendly reminder that I don’t know what the heck I’m doing. I’m just trying to save your restaurant.”
“Hey, this is your restaurant now too.”
Ignoring him, I added, “I think Molly could sell this on social media. She’ll weave her promo web like the killer spider she is, and we’ll give Bianca a renewed look. A younger, fresher, more hipster image. And we’ll catch everyone. The entire freaking city.”
“I’m impressed,” he said. My insides beamed from his praise. I would never let him know, but his praise meant the absolute world to me. It always would. “I mean, you have no real numbers or figures. But you seem to have thought about it a lot.”
The feeling of impressing him shriveled inside me. “You can’t keep the restaurant the way she is. You have to do something.”
His hand was back to his face, rubbing his jawline. “I’m inclined to believe you.”
“Yes, do it,” I pushed. “If we don’t turn things around or make money, we’ll go back to this way. This… outdated, geriatric, sad way.”
A surprised laugh burst out of him and he shook his head at me. “All right. Tit for tat. Call Molly. Figure it out.” He pointed a finger at me. “Just don’t rub my face in it when you’re wildly successful and make me millions.”
He already had millions, but I decided now wasn’t the time to mention that. Instead, I placed a delicate hand on my heart and promised, “I would never.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Taking a step back, he added, “I’m working out of Lilou today. See you Sunday. Molly said don’t come before ten.”
“I’ll bring mimosas.”
“Don’t you have to work later that day?”
I shrugged. “I’m at my best when I’m a little tipsy.”
Dad voice was back. “Dillon…”
“I kid, I kid.” He shot me his most parental scowl but left me to it. He knew me better than that. Although if Vann was going to be there, then maybe I wasn’t kidding after all.
Blaze walked in the kitchen a few minutes later, arms full of a delivery he must have met outside. “Morning, Chef.”
“We got the okay!” I told him, as excited as I had ever been.
He set his crates on the counter and looked at me quizzically. “The okay for what?”
“The menu changes. Goodbye outdated French fare. Hello casual and chic! Ezra’s even on board with the brunch switch up. You and I are going to have to sit down at the computer today and figure out the schedule later. And nobody is going to be happy at first. This is going to take an adjustment. But in time I think it will be better for everyone.”
“Seriously?” He blinked at me. “He okayed all of it?”
I couldn’t tell if he was excited or pissed. True, he hadn’t been super on board with the brunch idea in the first place, but I thought it was because he didn’t believe that Ezra would let me do it over any negative feelings he had for the concept. Maybe I had read the room wrong…
My smile dropped. “All of it. I’m going to set up a meeting with his social media guru next week to develop an online plan. I want to launch this thing like the opening of a brand-new restaurant.” I thought about it for a second and then added, “Basically, I want to erase Bianca entirely and start new.”
His face looked pained for a second. Confusion and remorse and fear flashed in alternating shades. I started to worry he was about to tell me what an idiot I was and how stupid this idea was. When he finally spoke, the words rushed out of his mouth in a raw confession. “I got an offer.”
My bubbling excitement screeched to a halt. “What?”
“Another job offer,” he explained. “After Ashlynn quit, I guess word got out that things were not, er, great here. Not that anyone has ever believed that we had our house in order. But… anyway, one of my buddies mentioned to his boss that I might be looking for something and they called with a position on Sunday.”
He’d been sitting on this for days. Which meant he was seriously considering it. Damn.
“Where?” He didn’t have to tell me, but if I was losing the one chef in this kitchen I could count on, I felt like I had a right to know.
“Sunday House.”
Okay, that was a legitimately wonderful restaurant. Quite frankly, a full step up from flailing Bianca. “Oh.”
“Listen, I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I just… I wanted you to know.”
The elation I’d felt moments ago turned sour in my stomach. “I can’t offer you more as far as salary goes. I wish that I could, but—”
He held up his hand, quick to stop me. “I’m not leveraging, Chef. I swear. I just… I wanted you to know what was going on.”
He meant he wanted me to know what was going on because he was leaving. If he knew I couldn’t leverage a better offer and he’d been thinking about it since Sunday, the logical conclusion was that this was his resignation.
Still, I was going to make him say it, because somehow this was worse than firing Ashlynn. Somehow, taking the control out of my hand and having someone willingly walk away, was infinitely worse. “So is this like your two weeks or…”
“Not yet,” he promised.
“When do you have to give them an answer?”
He held my gaze. “They didn’t give me a date. It was kind of an open-ended proposal.”
Which meant they really, really wanted him. “And if I decide to let you go first?” It was a catty and unrealistic response.
He saw through me immediately. “You can’t afford to let me go.”
“But you might leave anyway.”
His mouth pressed into a deeper frown. “This isn’t personal.”
Letting out a trembling breath, I nodded my head. He was right. I knew he was right. He knew he was right. This wasn’t personal. He was doing the best thing for his career. Had Wyatt thrown a huge hissy fit when I left Lilou to pursue better things for myself? Nope. He’d wished me well and offered to help whenever I needed him.
The problem was that Blaze had more experience than me. I couldn’t exactly send him off by telling him to call me day or night if he needed anything. He’d probably block my number afraid I’d be the one calling him at all hours of the night, drunkenly begging him to come back.
“I know,” I told him. And it was sincere. “I know this isn’t personal. You have to do what’s best for you and your career. And honestly, Sunday House is that.” I held up my hands, gesturing around at the recently gleaming kitchen. “I wish it was Bianca. I wish I had more to offer you as far as career path or head chef or whatever, all of it. But I’m glad Sunday House recognized your incredible talent. And I wish you the best.”
“I haven’t quit yet,” he reminded me, his frown somehow even more pronounced.
I waved him off. Yeah, he hadn’t quit yet, but he was going to. Saying goodbye now would save me the pain and heartache later.
And the existential crisis when Bianca started to circle the drain.
“Okay. You’re right.” I smiled, but it was watery and thin. “Think about it. Let me know what you decide. I’d love it if you stayed on at least through the menu transition to brunch. But think about that too and let me know what you decide.”
His expression softened and I couldn’t stand the look of pity staring back at me. “Okay, I will.”
Mustering all the false bravado I could gather on such short notice, I widened my smile and brushed loose hair away from my face. “Until then, we have an entire menu to overhaul. We need to get working.”
He nodded. “Yes, Chef. Where do you want me to start?”
“I want to change the menu tonight, Blaze. Like a few hours from now. We’ll use the office printer and make a temporary menu until we settle on a permanent lineup. I may need you to run to the store, depending on what we have and don’t have around here. There should be some change-ups to our regular order in the delivery. I had been planning to test different things. But I’m feeling in the mood to mix things up tonight.”
“You want to change the menu tonight?” The panic in his voice resonated through the kitchen, but it was the look of utter disbelief that made me truly question my decision.
If I had been hoping to charm him with my adorable ignorance, I’d already failed. Blaze didn’t want to start a new menu tonight. He wanted to tweak the old one. Which was the smart business decision to make.
But I was in a mood for chaos. I wanted to make a statement. I wanted to announce to the city that I would no longer tolerate business per usual. Bianca was officially under new management. And if I was going down with the ship, we were going to make as big of a splash as possible in the process.
I must have smiled, because Blaze’s expression only became more concerned. “Are you okay, Chef?”
“I’m great,” I told him. I wasn’t sure if I meant it or not, but I was currently adopting the fake it till you make it philosophy I knew and loved so well. “Let’s get to work.”
To be honest, by the end of the day, I barely survived crawling into my bed. And I didn’t even bother taking off my shoes.
It had been fourteen hours of pure insanity. Scrambling all morning to figure out five dishes we could serve tonight that did not resemble slop. Plus, three appetizers, two salads and four side dishes.
I rolled over and stared at my ceiling, my arms too heavy to lift and my legs sore and overworked thanks to the combination of spin class and hard day. But the pain felt good.
I’d worked hard today. Blaze had worked hard today. It was like he felt guilty for threatening to leave, so he was trying to make it up to me. Which I was absolutely okay with. I would suck every single ounce of go-getter out of him. And then go up in flames as soon as he left.
Regardless of the impending doom, I couldn’t help but feel amazing about service tonight. We had more meal compliments sent back to the kitchen than ever. In the history of cooking. Or at least in the history of Bianca.
Our diners loved tonight’s menu. And while it was far from pretty or perfect back in the kitchen, we were able to serve plates that had been executed to hit our diners straight in the taste buds.
Granted, each plate we served was tweaked a little differently than the last one, but they all tasted great. And in a yelling, sweaty, chaotic kind of way, it was fine.
I needed a shower. At the very least, I needed to kick off my greasy shoes. But I couldn’t summon the energy. I closed my eyes and drifted to sleep where I had dreams of beautiful food and a bustling restaurant and a man that told me I was too beautiful before he gave me the best sex of my entire life.
Seventeen
“You’re early!” Molly complained. “I told Ezra to tell you not before ten.”
I smiled at her efforts to slide a coffee cake ring onto a decorative plate. “I can’t help it.” I stuck a finger under the front of the pastry and helped her unstick it from the butcher paper beneath it. “Just like you can’t help always running late.”
She rolled her eyes and sucked on her thumb. “You can help it,” she mumbled around frosting. “Turn on Netflix or something. It’s simple.”
“I don’t even know where to start on that thing. Some of us don’t have the luxury of binge watching anything but our bank account getting bigger.”
She laughed at my trophy wife dig. “Some of us get to binge watch Netflix and our bank account. You just have to marry money, honey.”
“Ezra!” I called out. “Your gold-digging girlfriend is making fun of me.”
He popped his head over the balcony where their bedroom was located. “I told you not to come early.”
I shrugged again and repeated, “I can’t help it.”
He disappeared upstairs, and I pulled my organic orange juice and bottle of cheap champagne from the tote at my feet. Waving one in each hand, I smiled at Molly and asked, “Forgive me?”
She reached for the ten-dollar champagne. “You brought the good stuff!”
From Vera that would have been sarcasm, but I had Molly’s number. She blended into Ezra’s life effortlessly, but the girl preferred Taco Bell and bargain bin wine. She had no palate for the good stuff.
Just another reason to love her to pieces.
“Who all is coming?” I asked, taking a look around at egg bake and quiche and piles of donuts. This was enough to feed an army. Or to put six people into a seventy-year carb coma.
“Uh, you and me.”
I looked at her. “Okay, I figured that much.”
“And Ezra.”
“This is a lot of food for the three of us.”
She tried to hide her smile but failed. “I just wasn’t sure. The menu got away from me. I ordered one quiche, but then I wasn’t sure if everyone liked spinach. So, I ordered a second. And then that egg bake looked amazing. And I couldn’t decide about the donuts and here we are.”
“Babe, we’re all foodies. We’ll literally eat anything just to try it.”
“Not anything,” she aptly pointed out.
“As long as you didn’t make it yourself, we’ll literally eat anything.”
She slapped me with the kitchen towel that had been over her shoulder. “Now you’re going to have to eat all of
this. So, I hope you’re happy.” She moved quickly around the kitchen, gathering all the packaging and tell-tale signs she wasn’t the chef behind this breakfast feast.
Not that the guests wouldn’t figure that out within seconds of stepping in this place.
Unless she invited people we didn’t know to breakfast. Leave it up to Molly to gather strangers in her home just so the food didn’t go to waste.
“Kaya and Wyatt,” she added.
“Is that everyone?”
“And Vann.” The doorbell rang before I could interrogate her further. “Better get that,” she told me.
“Ezra already told me you invited him.” She threw a huge, pacifying grin over her shoulder. “I think you misunderstood me the other morning. I wasn’t asking you to play matchmaker.”
Ignoring me, she pulled open the door and greeted Wyatt and Kaya. “Good morning!”
I leaned over from where I stood in the kitchen and waved. “What up, bitches.”
Wyatt waved back and Kaya did a little dance. “Goooood, morning,” she sang out.
Joining me in the kitchen, they surveyed the spread with wide eyes. “Did you invite everybody in Durham?” Wyatt asked.
“Har, har,” Molly returned. “I don’t feed large quantities of people on a regular basis, so I’m new to these things.”
Wyatt picked up a donut. “We’ll find a way to manage somehow.” He grabbed a second donut and a took a bite out of each. “I mean, an excessive number of donuts is hardly a crisis.”
“We can host next time,” Kaya added.
“Next time?”
“It should be monthly, don’t you think? Otherwise we’re never going to see each other.”
That was true. We were all at different restaurants now and basically had zero free time. If we didn’t plan something like this on the regular, I would be destined to a solitary life of cats and constantly throwing away leftovers that were too much for one person.
Not exactly the life I hoped to lead.
“I’m in,” I volunteered immediately. Although my stomach dropped a bit at the realization that if I started brunch at Bianca, I couldn’t actually be in. I would have to be out. Very, very out.
The Something about Her: Opposites Attract book four Page 20