by Rye Hart
Good. They could learn a lesson too; cook the best food possible, or get the fuck out.
“I’m sorry, Chef Harrison,” he said, not meeting my gaze. “I’ll make a new one.”
I tossed the plate on the counter next to him. “I don’t want your apologies, I want you to do it right the first time.”
“Yes, Chef,” he mumbled. I turned to leave when he spoke again. “It’s just that we’re understaffed. I’m working two stations, Chef.”
Anger boiled up inside me and I got in his face. “Look at me. I don’t want to hear excuses. You’ve got two hands, two eyes, and you can handle two goddamn stations.”
“Boss, please. Ever since Gloria left, we’ve been short-handed.”
He was right, of course, but there was nothing I could do about it tonight. I’d already chosen a new chef to join the team, but I hadn’t shared the news with the rest of the brigade yet. I didn’t want them slacking off in the meantime.
A new chef tomorrow wouldn’t help them today.
“You’re right,” I said. “Gloria’s not here, but you are. Now, we’ve got a packed dining room out there, and none of them give a damn that we’re down a chef. They expect the same high-quality food we serve every night. So, I need you to focus and get the job done. Can you handle that?”
He nodded. “I think so.”
“You think? If you can’t do it, tell me right now. Tell me right the fuck now. I’ll take over your stations, and you can give Sergio a hand washing dishes. I’ll ask you again, can you handle it?”
The threat of busting him down to dishwasher lit a fire in Danny’s eyes. He glared at me like I’d just run over his mother. “Absolutely, Chef. I can handle it.” His voice was strong and steady, a complete reversal of the way he’d been just seconds ago.
“Don’t let me down. Period.”
He turned back to his stations with a renewed energy. The pan sizzled as he dropped a fresh steak in. Danny was back. And this was why I was so hard on my crew.
Sure, he was beyond pissed at me. He was probably cursing my name under his breath and wishing all kinds of terrible things on me, but that was good. It meant he’d work three times as hard tonight just to prove me wrong and throw it back in my face.
If I were a betting man, I’d wager he wouldn’t mess up another meal for the rest of the dinner service.
A few minutes later, Danny brought a freshly cooked steak over. He stood watching me, waiting for my assessment. I took my time looking it over, not because I wasn’t sure if it was done correctly, but because I wanted him to sweat a little.
I could tell immediately that it was cooked to perfection.. I couldn’t let him off the hook so quickly, not if I wanted the fire in him to keep burning for the rest of the dinner shift.
When I finally turned to him, his jaw was clenched so tightly the muscles in his neck stood out in thick cords.
“All night, Danny,” I said, pointing at the steak. “Like this. All night.”
He nodded curtly and hustled back to his stations.
***
I slumped into the sagging leather chair in my office at the back of the restaurant. Dinner was over, the kitchen had been cleaned, and the staff had gone home for the night.
Danny hadn’t spoken to me for the rest of the evening, but that was fine. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. He might, but I wouldn’t. I’d done what I had to do for the good of the restaurant.
Things had been going well for me. The reviews had been great and the dining room was booked solid for the next few months. That didn’t mean I could sit back and relax, it meant that I had to work even harder to maintain the restaurant’s reputation. As part of that, I had to bring on a new chef to replace the one I’d lost.
I hated to let the old one go, but the woman was delusional. There was a lot of shit I would put up with, but someone in my kitchen batting her eyes at me and whispering my name seductively during a dinner rush was fucking out as far as I was concerned.
I’d given love a try in the past, and the bitch had stabbed me in the heart and kicked me in the balls. I was done with it. Period.
Now, I would have been more than happy to bend the cute blonde over a kitchen counter and work her silly, but she didn’t want that. She wanted a relationship. That shit wasn’t happening on my watch.
I leaned forward and grabbed the new chef’s application off my desk. Amber Foster. She was the one. With the restaurant’s success, I’d gotten an avalanche of applications; more than I could properly review without pulling my eyelids out. But for some reason, Amber’s stood out among the rest.
The thought of bringing in another female had me doubting my sanity, but maybe she would be different.
“Doubtful. She’s young and probably quite confident in herself.” I brushed my fingers over my lips. “How could she not be?”
I read through the numerous awards listed on the page. She’d been top of her class in culinary school, best pastry chef, and on and on. It was impressive, but I was starting to doubt my decision to hire her even more.
At just twenty-two, Amber might know how to cook, but she didn’t have much practical experience. It was one thing to whip up a tasty dish in the classroom. It was quite another to produce that kind of quality in the middle of a dinner rush when all hell was breaking loose around you.
I’d find out whether she could handle it tomorrow. For better or worse, I needed someone else with skills.
“And for fuck’s sake,” I tossed the resume back on my desk, “don’t be a crier. Anything but a crier.” I cupped my face and let out a long sigh.
I was about to throw her into the deep end and find out if she could swim.
If she couldn’t, well then, her ass was out too.
***
Marla was sitting at the kitchen table tapping at her laptop when I got home. In addition to being my daughter’s nanny, she went to college part time. It was difficult for her to juggle school and this job, but I respected the hell out of her for doing it.
It was nice to have an older, respectable woman in the house with me. Hiring a nanny had been about as hard as hiring new chefs. Something about being an asshole seemed to turn women into needy whores, willing to throw out just about anything to get my attention. It was getting old, and so was I.
“Evening, Marla,” I said.
She turned to me with a warm smile. “Hello, Mr. Harrison.”
“Please, I’ve told you a million times to call me Luke.”
She closed her laptop and stuffed it into her bag. “And you can tell me a million more. It won’t change anything.”
I smiled as I sat down at the table across from her. “Any problems tonight?”
The smile faded from her face, replaced with a slight frown. “Emery was a little, um, difficult tonight.”
I shook my head. “If you’re saying she was difficult, she must have been a nightmare. You’re way too good to my daughter.”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. It’s just, you know how she gets sometimes; a little defiant.”
I rubbed my hand across the stubble of my cheek. “I’ll talk to her. She’s been acting out a lot lately.”
Marla zipped up her bag and slung it over her shoulders. “I’m sure it’s just a phase. She’s a sweetheart most of the time.”
I smiled. “That she is.” I stood up from the table with a sigh. “As always, I appreciate the help.”
“Sure thing.”
“I won’t keep you any longer. Be safe going home.”
She nodded and headed out of the kitchen. “See you tomorrow,” she sang out over her shoulder as she left.
I made my way upstairs where soft pink light glowed from Emery’s open bedroom door from her unicorn night light. She couldn’t sleep without it.
I stood in the doorway watching her. The slight rise and fall of her little chest beneath the covers gave me a moment of serenity that I probably didn’t deserve. Her tiny angelic face looked peaceful in slumber. My days at the re
staurant were hard, but it was all worth it when I came home to her.
I crept into the room, careful not to wake her. A pang of guilt stabbed at me, knowing that I couldn’t be there to tuck her in at night. Late nights came with the job. At least I got to spend time with her in the mornings, but in a perfect world, I could be there for her all day.
Fuck, in a perfect world, she’d have a mom. One that stuck around and loved us both. I swallowed the same sick sadness that rose up in my chest every time I thought about Jennifer, the sorry excuse for a human hadn’t even stuck around to watch Emery take her first steps.
Somehow it felt better to point my anger at Jen leaving and hurting Emery. The truth was too painful to face. She hadn’t just left my princess, she’d left me too.
I bent down over her and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. Emery was a good kid. Whatever problems she’d been having recently, they weren’t her fault. With Jen out of the picture, Emery was missing a maternal influence in her life, and it seemed she needed one - badly.
Marla did a great job taking care of her, but she was no substitute for a real mother. Unfortunately, I wasn’t about to look for a replacement. The days of me loving a woman and hoping that I was enough for her to love me back were long gone. Besides, Em needed stability, and as far as I was concerned, I was the only one capable of giving it to her.
I would figure out a way to make things work with just the two of us. I had to.
“Just you and me, kiddo,” I whispered. “You and me against the world.”
CHAPTER TWO - AMBER FOSTER
I pulled into the staff parking lot behind the restaurant for my first day of work. The place looked deserted; only one other car sat in the lot. I was about a half hour early, but I didn’t expect to be the only one there.
Oh well, better to be early and wait than show up late. I only had one chance to make a first impression and I didn’t want to screw it up. Besides, I’d waited as long as I could before leaving my apartment.
First day jitters had made sleeping impossible. I had tossed and turned most of the night. A little bit before dawn, I’d finally given up and gotten out of bed, not sure if I’d slept at all. After a shower and a few cups of strong coffee, I was as ready as I was going to be.
I double checked my appearance in the rear-view mirror. Dark crescents hung beneath my eyes. I scrounged through my purse for some concealer. Kitchen work was hot and sweaty, so I hadn’t bothered with too much makeup. Still, I couldn’t show up looking like an extra from The Walking Dead.
I smeared the flesh-colored goo under my eyes. Much better. I wasn’t going to impress my new boss with my looks, but it couldn’t hurt to look decent.
Chef Harrison had a reputation in the industry. Some people praised him as a perfectionist, the kind of chef who demanded every detail be flawless. Some denounced him as a dictator in the kitchen, pushing his staff beyond the breaking point. Others just plain called him an asshole.
While opinions differed, the one thing everyone agreed upon was that his restaurant, Emery, produced amazing food. No matter how difficult working there might be, the experience would be invaluable. I could learn a lot from Harrison, if I could endure his famous temper.
The back door to the restaurant burst open, so hard it slammed against the building’s exterior. The sound of it made me jump, leaving me to feel a little foolish. I was just glad no one else had seen my reaction.
An incredibly handsome guy with thick shoulders and a well-trimmed beard emerged from the doorway with trash bags gripped in both fists.
The garbage must have been heavy because I could see his muscles flexing beneath his thin white t-shirt. A dark tattoo decorated his left arm and I could almost make out the image of wings across the top of his chest.
He threw the bags easily into the dumpster, and they landed with a sound like thunder.
He must have been the owner of the other car in the lot. I guessed the busboy must show up early to get things cleaned up before the chefs arrived.
He pulled his arms behind him like he was stretching his back, and i had the pleasant effect of making his shirt cling to him like a second skin. His broad, masculine chest lit a pleasant warmth inside me.
Fuck. How long had it been since I’d been close to a well-built guy? Shit, any guy for that matter? I sure as hell hadn’t ever been with a guy that hot, or ripped. Only in my dreams.
My eyes followed the hard lines of his torso down to where the hem of his shirt had risen above his stomach. His jeans hung low on his hips, exposing the v-shaped muscles of his abdomen.
My mouth watered at the sight of him and I couldn’t help but wonder how he looked with the jeans thrown in the corner and his undies pooled on the floor beneath him.
Get ahold of yourself Amber.
The restaurant couldn’t be all that bad if I got to work with a guy like that. When things got tough, I’d just offer to rinse as he washed. I giggled to myself at my train of thought. Clearly, I needed a boyfriend if the mere sight of a good-looking guy got me all hot and bothered.
The man turned his face in my direction. “Hey!” he called out.
Oh, God.
I hoped he hadn’t noticed me eye-banging him from my car like some pervert stalker.
He marched toward me, his brow furrowed in anger. As he got closer, my stomach dropped a thousand feet. This wasn’t a busboy.
It was Chef Harrison.
I recognized him from pictures I’d seen online, but he’d always been dressed in his crisp white chef’s coat. I’d never seen him like this, and I never imagined he was hiding such gorgeous secrets beneath his professional attire. I knew he was a handsome man, but he hid his deliciously ripped body so damn well. The world would never know.
I hopped out of my car to greet him, but he shouted at me before I could speak.
“Who the hell are you?”
The question threw me off guard. I’m not sure what I expected, but it hadn’t been this. Panic flared in my chest, and I blurted out the first thing I could think of.
“What?” I asked dumbly.
He got in my face, towering over me, making me feel small.
“Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my parking lot?”
“I-I’m Amber Foster,” I stammered. Holy shit, he was beautiful up close. Yep, I was going to struggle with this job. Maybe his asshole persona would help diminish just how incredibly fine he was. My nipples budded and every nerve ending in my body pulsed like I was on the edge of some great pleasure. Warmth raced up my chest and cheeks as I tried to simply breathe.
He looked me up and down and shrugged. “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“I’m your new chef.”
I thought the explanation would diffuse the situation, but somehow it made things worse.
His angry expression shifted to a look of contempt. “Ahh, yes. The culinary school rock star.”
It wasn’t at all a compliment. “Well, I don’t know about that. But I did win a few awards during—”
“You’re in the real world now. Awards mean jack shit.”
I swiped a shaky hand across my forehead, which was suddenly slick with sweat. “Of course, Chef. It’s just that it was a very competitive field of—”
“I don’t care, and neither do the customers. Send out one of those awards on a plate and see how much they give a damn. From here on out, only one thing matters; the food. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Chef. And can I just say that I’m really excited to be working for you.”
His emerald green eyes bore into mine, like he was staring right into my soul. I quivered under his gaze, and I hoped he couldn’t see it. I’d already started off on the wrong foot, though I had no clue how. I was early. I was polite. I was me. Either way, I didn’t want to piss him off any more than I already had.
“Oh,” he said. “Are you done kissing my ass?”
Heat burned my cheeks again. How dare he speak to me like that? What the fuc
k was the matter with him? Hell, what was the matter with me? Standing there taking it like a whipping girl.
I bit back a scathing reply, partly because I still wanted the job, and partly because every time I spoke, things just got worse.
He nodded. “Okay, good. Time to see the kitchen. Try to keep up.”
Chef Harrison turned back to the open door of the restaurant. His long-legged stride forced me to jog to keep pace. As much as I didn’t like him already, I couldn’t help but let my eyes move down his back to the curve of his ass. The man was a masterpiece –a prick but a masterpiece nevertheless. How anyone could put up with him outside of the bedroom was a mystery.
The thought calmed me just a little. Was he dominating and demanding between the sheets? Fuck, I wanted to know so bad it hurt. I’d never been with a man who actually acted like a man. Most of them were glorified girls. The pussification of America was real, and I was living proof that it wasn’t working.
“Hurry up and get out of your head.” He glanced back, his eyes piercing into me.
My mind reeled. I felt like my feet couldn’t find solid ground. The man had flustered me from the first word, and I hadn’t been able to regain my balance.
I wasn’t used to feeling that way. No one had ever treated me the way Chef Harrison had. I wouldn’t let them. It was a hard world out there and you had to be tough to survive. Growing up without my parents around molded me to be a force to be reckoned with and I’d never backed down from a fight.
Losing my parents at a young age meant I had to survive through some pretty tough times growing up and make it out strong. My past was what attracted me to the culinary world. Being in a busy kitchen was both chaotic, while at the same time, the closest to feeling right at home. What I remembered most about my mother was her love of cooking, and she was remarkable at it. No schooling – just a natural raw innate skill. It was breathtaking to experience. She taught me the basics and so much more at a young age. As a kid, I was able to do more than most adults could in the kitchen. My mother’s memory was my strength and motivation. So, needless to say, I could be one tough bitch when it came to anyone questioning my culinary skills, or intimidating me in general. I’d never taken shit from anyone, and I sure as hell never let anyone mistreat me.