by J. M. Adele
On her way through, she spotted Greyson and Albert, the Sous Chef, with their heads together. The sight of her sexy stranger sent hunger pangs of a different variety coursing through her body. She placed a hand over her heart, telling it to settle down, and her feet slowed to a halt, deliberately disobeying her order to keep going.
“Tuck your fingertips under, so the side of the knife rubs against your knuckles.”
Albert pointed his finger dangerously close to the chop zone making Grey pause what he was doing. She watched his throat as he swallowed, and his face screw up in adorable frustration. The difference between cooking at home and cooking in a professional kitchen was a gaping canyon that he seemed determined to conquer. She didn’t know how they did it. Cooking was like some foreign language to her. A skill necessary for survival, but it eluded her nonetheless.
That was another thing she had in common with Ryan. Her mouth flattened. She was beginning to realize she was more like him than she’d like to admit. It wasn’t just their penchant for the chase.
“Yes, like that. See how much faster you can move and with less amputations? Win win.” Albert flicked a dish towel over his shoulder, nodding in approval.
The sous chef had earned his spare tire after twenty years in the business. He looked damn proud of it too, rubbing it like a pregnant woman as he tottered off toward the cold storage, leaving Grey to it.
She should keep walking.
Remember the Blahniks. Remember the Blahniks.
“Hi. How are ya doin’?” She reckoned it didn’t hurt to be polite.
Grey didn’t flinch. His hands kept their rhythm, with his concentration firmly cemented to his task. Probably a good thing or there would be an amputation after all. But she was a little miffed that he didn’t even look at her.
He was all kinds of hot and cold. One minute she was drowning in his intensity, and the next, she was watching him walk away. She could still hear the bell from the diner door every time she thought of that moment. It pricked at her ego, deflating it to a pathetic shadow of its former self. It was best if she stayed far away.
She shuffled backwards, unsure whether to swallow her pride and disappear, or to stand her ground. It was a dilemma she’d never experienced before. All kinds of firsts were coming at her, and she didn’t know what to do with herself.
“All good. How about you?”
He speaks! Her heart started a gallop. “Fine. I’m fine.”
A fleeting look from the corner of his eye told her he agreed with her. There was enough heat loaded in that look to rival the wood-fired pizza ovens. She raised a hand to her throat, adjusting her collar for some extra air flow to cool the burn.
Dane sauntered behind them on his way to the front of house. “Mud wrap.” He smirked and winked, picking up his pace when she sneered at him.
“Boot up the ass,” she threw at his back.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had something up there,” he cackled as he pushed through the door.
Turning back to Grey, she straightened the front of her shirt and cleared her throat. He was back to ignoring her, his hands moving furiously to get through the mountain of slicing he had to do.
“My friends are coming to celebrate Hannah’s birthday tonight, so put some extra love into their meals, okay?”
“I’m just the prep guy tonight, but I’ll make sure to chop the garnishes extra pretty.”
He cleared the sliced peppers into a container and took his knife to the sink to wash, before grabbing the next lot of vegetables. Chelsea admired his focus. He executed everything with precision. It showed in the set of his shoulders, the draw of his brow … the strength in his arms. She had to wonder if he did everything like he was competing to be the best.
And she was standing there like an idiot.
Chelsea gnawed on her lips and tugged at her shirt. “Okay. Good talk,” she chirped, before taking off.
Throwing her shoulders back and expelling the sexual tension through tightened lungs, she reminded herself that she didn’t need a distraction. It was her final year. She had so much going on between organizing the function rooms next door, and the huge project that she’d be working on at college. She had to start thinking of what she’d be doing after graduation.
Her mama wanted to open a little café where people could come and drink coffee and eat cakes, with the added bonus of a second-hand book exchange. The space would have cozy little book nooks with coffee tables and wing back chairs. She could see it now. But she wanted to be able to buy into the business as a partner, and for that she needed to find a job. And leave this place far behind. And that meant Greyson too.
As she reached the door, she turned back, answering the unspoken call of his narrowed gaze watching her retreat. The current stirred again. Well, shit. There it was. The truth laid bare. He was the source of the pull. Only, it was strengthening from the ebb of a tide to the tug of a rope, lassoing her dreams and spinning them in a different direction from the way they’d been heading.
He was undoing all her good intentions.
And she was damned if she didn’t want to let him.
_____
“Hey, how’re y’all doin’? Would you like another round of drinks?”
Chelsea gathered up the collection of glasses from her friends’ table, shooing Ryan’s hand away when he tried to help. She’d done her best to put smiles on their faces tonight. Hell, she had a giant smile on her face for some reason. It had to be contagious. Maybe it was the new addition in the kitchen, or maybe she was just super happy to have a chance to make things right with her roommates. She didn’t care. She was just enjoying the high.
Decorated as if she were her own present, Hannah wore a balloon strapped to her wrist, and a tiara topped with sparkly plastic letters that read birthday girl. She’d brought along three more friends from college, making it a party of six. The group were behaving themselves. Just. They were probably saving the real partying for the bar later on.
“No, let’s order dessert. I’ll have a taste of your friend over there.” Hannah leaned her chin on her palm, a dreamy look in her eye as she set her sights across the room.
Chelsea followed her line of sight. “Jenna?” Whipping her head back to Hannah, Chelsea made sure her eyes held a stern warning. “No. You leave Jenna alone. She is too pure and good to be sullied by the likes of you.”
“Ooh, burn,” Ryan snickered.
Chelsea bit her tongue with a grimace, but it was too late to suck the words back in where they belonged. “I didn’t mean that you were dirty—”
Hannah sliced a hand through the air, cutting Chelsea off. “Well, I am that. Don’t worry, I’m not offended. But you should know that the more you defend your friend’s honor, the more appealing she appears.”
“I’m pretty sure she doesn’t swing that way.”
“Really? Because my gadar is pinging.”
Chelsea watched Jenna as she flitted between tables, a polite smile on her face, and that bun that didn’t move an inch. As if she felt the scrutiny, Jenna shifted her eyes to their table, tossing a deer-in-the-headlights look in Hannah’s direction.
“You’re scaring the crap out of her. Stop it.”
Hannah crossed her arms over her chest, making the balloon on her wrist tangle with the pendant light above. “Phooey. You’re no fun. Bring out the sweets!”
Chelsea reached over to set the decoration free. “As you wish, Queen Hannah.”
Hannah’s hand flew up to check that her tiara was still in place, sending the balloon careening into Chelsea’s face. She smacked it away and took off for the kitchen.
What Hannah didn’t realize was that Chelsea had organized a cake. It’d cost her a mint, but she wanted to do something nice to make up for the rough start they’d had since she moved in. She hustled over to the reach-in, finding the elaborate creation already on a stand and decorated beautifully by Elise, one of their patissiers. Three different layers of cream and sponge brushed with
rum syrup, all coated in frosting and toasted sliced almonds. She would almost kill for this cake. It was traditionally for weddings, but what the heck, they deserved to live a little.
All Chelsea had to do was prop it on a bus cart, and add the candles and sparklers.
Only, the damn things wouldn’t light.
Burning flame nipped at her fingers. “Aargh, shit!” She dropped the lighter, shaking her hand, and cursing some more. Before she knew it, her wrist was clasped in a firm grip, and her fingers were shoved under the nearest faucet.
“What the heck are you doing?” Grey growled in her ear.
“I was trying to light the sparklers. What the heck are you doing?”
“First aid.”
“I can hold my own hand under the water.” She tugged on her arm, making him tighten his grip.
“Then, why didn’t you?”
“I was … I would’ve done that next.”
“Uh huh.”
“I know how to treat a burn. I’m not an idiot, for Lord’s sake.”
“Why weren’t you using the gas lighter instead of that useless thing?” He pointed an accusing finger at the cigarette lighter she’d been using.
“Excuse me for thinkin’ that a cigarette lighter would be able to light something flammable. I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”
“Haven’t you ever lit a sparkler before?”
“I always go for the rockets on the fourth of July. I like to go big.”
“Yeah, I got that impression about you.” He turned off the faucet and cradled her hand in his, reaching for a towel.
His eyes lifted to hers and she marveled at the thick black lashes shading his silver stare. With her hand still locked in his, he watched her unabashedly, drawing out that hum of energy she always experienced when he was near, and ramping it up a notch with the addition of his touch.
She returned his scrutiny. Why the hell not? If he was going to blatantly stare, she’d take the opportunity to do the same. It was no hardship taking in the rugged planes of Greyson’s face. She wanted to drift closer and fold herself into him, but she still had enough of her wits to realize where they were.
Greyson let her hand slip from his grip and went to retrieve a butane lighter. With a click, he touched the flame to the sparkler, setting off miniature fireworks. He’d hijacked the bus cart and was out the door before she’d moved a muscle. Chelsea forced out a breath as her hands landed on her hips. She had to respect the way he’d taken charge even as she scrambled to catch up.
The party broke out in song when they saw the cake coming, and a few other patrons joined in. Chelsea sang out loud and proud, happy to be a part of her friend’s celebration. Grey watched on in silence, with a hint of a smile on his lips and his eyes on her. Her toes curled in her shoes like she was trying to keep her feet planted, because the Lord knew they wanted to turn in his direction and drift into new possibilities with him. Ones she shouldn’t be considering.
“Make a wish,” Grey reminded Hannah before she blew out the candles.
“I fully intend to. Thank you, Greyson.”
“My pleasure. Happy birthday and have a good night.”
He spun around to leave, but Dakota wrapped her hand around his arm. “Wait up, what are you doing later?”
“Tucking myself in tight.”
Chelsea caught a groan before it escaped. She could visualize tucking him in all too well.
“Aw, don’t be like that. Come out with us.”
Chelsea watched Dee’s hand flex on his arm and fought to keep her eyes from narrowing. She had no right to feel jealous. He wasn’t hers.
“Not tonight. I won’t finish up here until late. Sorry.”
He folded his arms over his broad chest, leaving no room for argument, and not appearing sorry at all.
Dee wasn’t exactly apologetic about leaving her hand right where it was either. Her lips popped out in a pout. “How about Halloween?”
“I don’t have anything special planned. It’s my night off.” A casual shrug of one shoulder had his arms loosening slightly.
Dakota’s pout stretched out in a smile and her hand finally dropped. “Excellent. A bunch of us are going to Salem for the celebrations. We’d love for you to come.”
What the fuck, Dee? Chelsea’s jaw ached from clenching too tightly. She was going to kill her friend.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll get the details from Chelsea. Thanks.” He cut a glance at her before going back to the kitchen, a coded message in the cool depths that she had no hope of deciphering.
She straightened her shirt with a frown, and got to work on slicing up the cake and serving it out, adding a dollop of cream for the few that wanted it.
“Where’s your piece?” Hannah asked around a mouthful.
“I’ll save a piece for me. You can take the cake home, I’ll just box it up for you.”
“Can’t you sit and eat with us?”
“No, that would be unprofessional. I have other tables to serve too, Hannah.”
Dee snickered. “Oh, come on. Sit down. It’s not like they’re clamoring for your attention.”
This time she did let her eyes narrow and her mouth tightened in annoyance. She got the impression Dakota was spoiling for a fight, but she didn’t have a clue why.
“Why’d you have to go and invite him to Halloween?”
“Shame on you, Chelsea. Where is your Christian hospitality? He’s new to Boston. I thought it’d be nice to show him some sights.”
“Exactly what sights did you have in mind? Because I don’t think Salem is at the top of your list.”
“Whoa, kitties. You’re spitting and hissing all over my birthday party.” Hannah tried to prevent things from getting all kinds of feline nasty.
“I was trying to do Chelsea a favor and extend a welcome to a newcomer. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Dee’s indignant chuff pissed her off even more, but she needed to quit with the trigger finger.
“Sorry, Hannah.”
“It’s okay, I’m getting used to your temper. If I ever need anyone on my side, I know who to call. Thanks for the surprise.” Hannah raised a fork full of cake in salute and shoved it into her mouth.
“You’re so welcome. I’m glad I could look after you tonight. I’ll be back with the cake.”
Chelsea cast a glance at Dee as she packed up. The high she’d been riding all but fizzled out. Dee returned her perusal with a saccharine smile, making Chelsea’s back teeth grind together.
Sometimes, friends were enemies in disguise. She just had to figure out if Dakota was one of them.
A Little Encouragement Goes a Long Way
Greyson knew this would be hard. He’d been prepared for it. But experiencing the reality of something was always more taxing than anything a person’s mind could conjure. He’d been running all night, restocking ingredients as the chefs barked out their needs. His body was up to the test. All those years of hard labor on the ranch had done him good. He didn’t begrudge the hard work he’d endured at all. But the finesse required to feed a farm animal was vastly different to feeding hordes of hungry restaurant patrons. Every now and then, he took the time to admire the speed and agility of the chefs on their respective lines, knowing that would be him someday soon.
Chelsea’s frequent visits to the server window drew his eye unfailingly, despite his efforts to stay focused and not fuck anything up. He didn’t want to give his father the satisfaction of watching him crawl back home a failure. But every time he felt the stroke of her attention, it pulled at him like he was already on her leash. He should have been nervous, but instead, he felt like he’d been plugged into a power socket. Her being there made him want to work harder, to succeed, and to get her alone. Who said he couldn’t have both?
She’d come on strong in Alabama, sparking his interest. And then he’d seen past the playful tease to a vulnerable center, igniting all sorts of feelings he hadn’t known were possible, and had him damning it all to hell wh
en he had to get back on the road without taking a bite of that apple. He knew one bite wouldn’t be enough. Then, miracle of all miracles, she turns up under his nose. It had to be a sign from the big guy upstairs. There was no way shit like that happened for real. And if he didn’t take notice of a sign like that ... he was a dumbass. He’d bought a ticket in the lottery that morning, hoping to stretch his lucky streak.
Only thing was, the Chelsea from Alabama was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a woman who was all work and no fooling around. She’d looked after her friends tonight without joining in the fun, choosing to remain professional. The irritation and disbelief plastered on her face when Dakota invited him to Halloween had him questioning whether this was the same woman at all.
But then, he thought back to how her hand had trembled in his grasp, and not because she’d singed her fingers, but because of the energy arcing between them. And the way her pulse bounded in her neck the other night when he’d kissed her. His gut told him she was as much in danger of getting pulled into this thing between them as he was, every time her eyes met his and latched on to something deeper inside.
She was scared, that’s all.
The woman was used to getting her way, and he hadn’t given it to her. She didn’t want to be happy to see him. Her body was definitely excited to see him. He’d have to tug those defenses down to get the rest of her interested.
“Hey, lover boy.”
Grey just about jumped out of his skin as Dane suddenly materialized beside him, and he damn near snarled.
“Whoa. Note to self. Never sneak up on the newbie. Please don’t kill me.”
Greyson relaxed his hand slowly from its white knuckled grip on his knife.
“That’s it. Put the knife down.” Dane coaxed, motioning with his hands.
Grey’s eyebrows dropped even lower. “What can I do for you?” His tone was less than friendly, but the clatter of the knife on the board spoke of resignation. He knew Dane enough by now to know he didn’t let go once he had a mind to do something.
“It’s not what you can do for me, it’s what I can do for you. And probably what I can do for my country, because she’s likely to become a threat if she doesn’t get some. But let’s not go that far just yet.”