Who’s The Boss?

by McCarthy , Erin

  My mouth went dry. I reached for my coffee again.

  “I’m thirty-five,” he said. “I’m struggling not to be offended that you think I’m forty. You said it like I’m ancient.”

  Well, this was grumpiness on top of awkwardness on top of sexual tension. Carla wasn’t the only one with flushed cheeks. “You missed what I said before that. I said you were probably thirty-five. I added forty because I was trying to make you look less desirable to someone that young.”

  “Why? Afraid she’s into me?”

  I shrugged. I wasn’t going to rat out Carla. She might only want to date him theoretically, not in actuality. “I don’t want her to have regrets.”

  Sean stared at me. He shifted closer to me, studying me so intently I fought the urge to take a step back. “Do you have regrets?” he murmured.

  I didn’t even know how to answer that. I did, and I didn’t. My feelings were jumbled. “You don’t have to stay if you had plans for this morning. I can handle the lunch crowd. We’re not that busy on Thursdays.”

  “I’m already here. I might as well stay.” He gave me a smile. “You look pretty today. You look good without makeup.”

  With that, he went into the break room and I was left standing there hating myself for being pleased by his compliment. Since when did I get giddy over a casual comment on my appearance? My head throbbed even harder.

  I went to see if Courtney had that Bloody Mary ready for me yet.

  There had been no real reason to come to Bone. Sarah being sick had been an afterthought from Nico on our phone call. We’d been discussing the BBQ competition. But I had offered to come in because I wanted to see Isla. She had forgone her recent fashion choices for loose overalls and boots. Her hair was piled in a bun on top of her head and I thought it was amazing how she could pull both looks off so easily. I also thought it was amazing that she could work three feet away from me and look completely unaffected by the fact we’d had sex the night before.

  I was amazing at casual sex. I could write a fucking manual on it. I could literally have my cock in a woman and then an hour later return to being just friends. Not in an asshole way, just that I was fantastic at living in the moment and never having regrets. It wasn’t even about holding myself remote. I just didn’t get emotionally connected that way.

  So to have sex and then work side by side with a woman should not be a struggle. At all. In my twenties I had done it all the time.

  Yet, there I was, sneaking glances at Isla every chance I got. Our parting had been less than perfect. She had been eye rolling the hell out of me. I had said stupid shit. She’d called me out on it. I hadn’t meant to be an insensitive prick but it had honestly scared the hell out of me how into her I had felt.

  It was just sex.

  That’s what I had been telling myself every waking moment since.

  Sex that I couldn’t get out of my head.

  Sex I was going to have more of.

  We were adults. We could keep our work and sex life separate. Here we were twelve hours after I crawled out of her bed and all signs indicated she was totally fine with not only what had gone done, but what was happening now. Isla was cool as a cucumber and I was… not. I was burning with desire to have her again. That had just been an appetizer. Too fast. A little taste, nothing more.

  It only took me a couple of hours to realize I was doing a one-eighty on what I had told her the night before.

  I couldn’t leave it alone. I wanted more of her.

  I had to leave it alone, though. Because if things got heated between us and she quit, I would lose my job.

  But, the feel of her beneath me…

  We were professionals. We would just establish rules. Parameters. We could have sex and keep it out of the kitchen.

  “Isla, I need to talk to you,” I said, after lunch service had ended and most of the staff had left.

  “About what?” She breezed past me. “I need to get some arugula from the cooler.”

  I followed her. Standing in the open doorway as she rummaged around on the shelves, digging into produce boxes, I lowered my voice. “About last night.”

  She shot me a warning look over her shoulder. “No. We’re not discussing that. Not here. Honestly, not ever. There’s nothing to say.”

  There was a hell of a lot to say. “Can I come over after work?”

  Now she shot daggers at me. “I thought you said one and done, or something like that. I don’t see why you need to discuss anything with me and I really don’t see why that has to happen in my apartment.”

  I took a step forward, against my better judgement. I wasn’t fond of the cooler because the door could easily close and leave me trapped in the small space. But I needed to talk to Isla, explain to her. “I didn’t handle things well last night. But I have to tell you–

  Isla gave a small cry and shoved past me. “Don’t let the door close!” She made a lunge but it already clicked into place. “It sticks.”

  “What?” I said, reaching out and twisting the door handle and yanking as hard as I could. “Why does this door lock?” I jiggled it repeatedly, harder each time.

  “It doesn’t. It just sticks. But we’re still trapped.” Isla reached up and tightened her hair bun. “Crap. Who is still here? We need to text someone to let us out.”

  “I’m not sure. I think Carla is here. But we can send a text to the work app. Even if no one is here, someone can come up to the restaurant and let us out.” I took a deep breath and tried not to panic. “Give me your phone.” Mine was in my locker.

  “I don’t have it,” she said, leaning against the door again. “It’s in my locker.”

  We were going to die. That was my only conclusion here. I closed my eyes but that made my head spin. I opened them again and reached for a bottle of sparkling water on the shelf. I twisted the cap off and took a sip, my mouth completely dry.

  “Don’t drink too much of that or you’ll have to go to the bathroom,” she said.

  Oh, great. I slapped the bottle down. “I feel lightheaded. I might even be seeing spots and my dead grandmother.” I leaned heavily against the metal rack.

  “Sit down.” Isla reached out and took my hand and squeezed it. “Just put your head between your knees for a minute.”

  I didn’t want to because that seemed like such a weak thing to do, but at the same time, it would be worse if I passed out while standing up. Which was entirely possible. I sank down to the floor and put my forearms on my knees. I rested my head on them. “I blame you for this.”

  She sat down next to me. “What did I do?”

  “You got into my head. I was so busy trying to talk to you, I forgot my golden rule– always have an escape route.” I stared at the gray vinyl floor and tried to make the spots that were dancing behind my eyes go away.

  “I take it that means you don’t have your phone either?” Isla sat in the same position as me and reached out and patted my leg just a little. “The good news is as soon as the new sous chef arrives, he’ll come in here to get lettuce to start on salads.”

  Nico and I had brought in a replacement for Martin from a restaurant Nico had worked at in the past.

  He seemed like a nice guy. Quiet, hardworking. His name was Jeff and bent his head down and did his job. But that was eons from now that he was due to show up. A lifetime. “That’s like two hours from now. That’s one hundred and twenty minutes.” Which was one hundred and nineteen longer than I thought I could handle.

  “It’s going to be okay, Sean. I feel like you’re taking this harder than the elevator.”

  “That’s because I had my phone then. It was the possibility of contact and rescue. Now I have no lifeline.” I lifted my head and turned to look at her. “We’re going to die. We’re going to run out of air.”

  She laughed. “No, we’re not. I promise. There’s ventilation in here. We should do something to keep ourselves distracted.”

  “Have sex?” I asked, feeling hopeful. That would absolutely take
my mind off of suffocating.

  Isla frowned. “No! I hope you’re joking.”

  “Maybe. Not really.” I took a deep breath. “I mean, if I’m going to die, at least I’d go out happy.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to die and I’m not having sex with you in the cooler. The health board would have a field day with that. Besides, we’re not supposed to be having sex again.”

  “Whose dumb-ass idea was that?” I asked, knowing the answer but not understanding why I would have ever thought that was a good idea.

  “You know full well it was yours, genius. You got me out of your system, remember?”

  It sounded even worse repeated back to me. “Yeah, about that. I was lying. I wanted to believe it, but even as I said it, I knew it was bullshit.” I took another deep breath. My heart wasn’t racing quite as fast. “I’m trying to convince myself that what happened wasn’t a big deal. But it was. You got under my skin.”

  She smiled at me. “Like a splinter?”

  I nodded, nudging her with my knee. “Something like that. I find you fascinating, whether you like it or not.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about it. I liked hating you. That was easy.”

  “Come on, you didn’t really hate me after the elevator, did you?”

  “Oh, I’m pretty sure I hated you.”

  “Ouch. For the record, I never hated you.” I hadn’t. She had irritated me, made me feel idiotic, and had gotten me hard as a rock, but I hadn’t hated her. “I also think you’re an amazing chef. You have a great future ahead of you.”

  “You’re buttering me up for sex, aren’t you?” she asked, but she didn’t sound like she was serious.

  “I will never try to get you naked with flattery. That’s for amateurs.” I stretched my legs out. “I’m serious. You can go as far as you want in this business. You’re smart, you’re confident, you know your techniques and flavors.”

  “Thanks. You don’t totally suck either.”

  I laughed. “You’ll never blow smoke up my ass, that’s for sure. Tell me why you decided to become a chef. I picture you being one of those kids who goes on a cooking competition and kicks ass.”

  “No, I was never on a cooking competition. I used to cook with my parents. I was an only child and weekends were for the three of us making meals together in the kitchen.”

  “That’s awesome. My parents didn’t cook. That’s why I got into it in high school. I was tired of takeout.” I made a face at her. “Poor rich city kid, huh? Nothing to eat but expensive takeout. That sounded really pretentious.”

  “No, it didn’t. I can see how that would get to be old. Besides, you were probably curious to know what went into preparing all those takeout dishes.”

  “I did. Where did you grow up?”

  “New Jersey. Small town. Until I was fifteen.”

  I waited but she didn’t elaborate. “Then where did you live?”

  “The city. I came to live with my grandparents.” She hesitated, but then she added, “My parents passed away. Then my grandmother died and it was just me and Gus.”

  Jesus. I turned to her. “God, Isla, I’m so sorry. That’s awful. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  Her face was stoic. “Thanks. I’m not going to say it’s okay, because honestly, it’s really not. It never will be. But I have learned to live with it. I just miss them.”

  “I bet. Is your grandfather still around?”

  “Yes. He lives in Alphabet City and he’s a very no-bullshit kind of guy.”

  “Hmm. I guess I know where you get that from.”

  She laughed. “I tried to tell him the other day I’m emotionally defective because he raised me and he totally called me out on it. Said my parents had a great marriage so if I’m fucked up it’s my own fault.”

  “Oh, yeah. You’re his granddaughter. I can hear you saying that to someone else.” I wondered what she meant by being emotionally defective but I didn’t think she’d really intended to reveal that, so I decided to keep my mouth shut.

  “You’re not wrong.” Isla stretched her legs out now too and flexed her combat boots up and down. “Do you get along with your parents? Your mom seemed kind of stressed at the engagement party.”

  “We get along, sure. But I’m a disappointment. Michael is the golden son. He’s the total package. My sister, Maeve, is their second favorite because while she’s not saving lives like Michael, she’s very successful. They’re not overly impressed with me. At least not my mother. I’m not sure my father cares that much one way or the other. He’s not really invested in me.” Because I wasn’t actually his biological son.

  For a second I considered telling her. But only my ex-girlfriend, Jasmine, knew and my brother, both told in drunken moments of feeling lousy. I didn’t even think my sister Maeve knew and as far as I was concerned, it wasn’t my truth to tell, it was my mother’s. I didn’t want to damage Maeve’s relationship with our mother.

  I certainly had no business telling our family secrets to Isla.

  “You’re successful,” she protested. “You’re the executive chef of a top restaurant in Brooklyn, the new culinary epicenter of New York.”

  That touched me. Isla the Intimidator was defending me. “Thanks. Can I put that on my business cards?”

  She laughed. “It’s a little wordy. You can put it on your dating profile.”

  “I don’t think so. If I write that, women are going to assume I’m compensating for a small dick. Which I’m not. As you know.”

  Isla gave me a grin. “That’s a fair point. It would sound a little douchey.”

  I waited, but she didn’t say anything else. “This is an excellent opportunity for you to compliment my huge cock.”

  Isla laughed. “No. Your ego is big enough. You don’t need me stroking it.”

  I opened my mouth but she held her hand up to my mouth. “Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear anything about what I could stroke. Go on your dating app if you need company.”

  “I’m staying away from dating apps for awhile. I’m a little distracted at the moment by a very sexy woman I work with who has an evil cat.”

  “Save your breath. I told you I’m not having sex with you in this cooler.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  She rolled her eyes for the approximately one millionth time since we’d met. “If I want an adventure, I’ll go hiking,” she said.

  “We could go hiking and have sex.”

  Isla smacked my leg. “Stop. We need to change the subject. Are we ready for the baby shower? I’m a little worried about timing.”

  Felicia and Michael were having some over-the-top glamorous Friday night baby shower and Isla and I were preparing the food. “It should be fine. The delivery is scheduled for five. That gives us two hours.”

  “Are you excited to be an uncle?”

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m actually really excited. I like kids. I can’t wait to spoil her.” Michael had just told me Felicia was having a girl. They had decided against any sort of gender reveal, so it wasn’t a secret.

  “Kennedy seems to like you.”

  “Kennedy is amazing. She’s brilliant and a total punk. Her ability to con me is astonishing.”

  “How do you know her parents?”

  “I used to date her mother. Jasmine was my only really serious relationship. It was over ten years ago.”

  “It’s cool that you stayed friends. What happened between you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “She wanted to get married. I wasn’t ready.” I shrugged. “So we broke up and she moved on, found someone who was ready. And I focused on my career.” That was the streamlined version. It wasn’t my place to talk about Jasmine wanting to remain a virgin. That was personal.

  “Did you love her?”

  “Yes. Very much. But I couldn’t see forever at twenty-three. I just wanted to stay right where we were for awhile.”

  “I can see that. That’s really dang young.”
/>
  “You’re agreeing with me? Wonders never cease.” I gave her a grin. “What about you? Who’s your one that got away?”

  But Isla just shrugged. “I don’t think I’ve had one of those. I’m not sure I’ve ever even been in love. I feel like people just think they’re in love but it’s infatuation. Which there’s nothing wrong with, but I think deep, true love isn’t nearly as common as people think it is.”

  It didn’t surprise me. “I guess when you do fall in love there won’t be any question about it.”

  “Yeah.”

  We both sat in silence for a minute.

  Then I took her hand in mine, interlacing our fingers, enjoying the softness of her warm skin. “Thanks for distracting me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I think you’re a pretty amazing woman, Isla. And I hope you don’t still hate me. That would suck.”

  “I don’t still hate you.”

  I turned and stared into those gorgeous brown eyes. “Good.”

  She shifted closer to me, her lips parting in an obvious invitation.

  I leaned in.

  Without warning the door yanked open, letting in a whoosh of warm air. “What are you guys doing?” Juan asked.

  “Nothing, we were stuck in here.” Isla scrambled to her feet.

  Surprisingly, I wasn’t as relieved as I should be to be released from the small room. I actually felt disappointed.

  That realization was more terrifying than the door slamming closed.

  Eight

  I purposely arrived an hour before Sean to the baby shower because I wanted to talk to Felicia about what was going on between me and Sean. Because something was going on.

  Trapped in the cooler, I had almost liked him. He seemed normal. Down-to-earth. A guy with actual feelings. We had been about to kiss when Juan had saved us from ourselves.

  But it turned out there was no way to talk to Felicia. She had an event planner in the house who was directing the set up of elaborate and elegant balloon installations. One spelled out “Amelia” in three-foot-high blush-colored letters, the baby’s name. There was a living floral wall behind the balloons. The entire main floor of the house was bursting with various shades of pinks in florals and balloons and draping.