by Linda Verji
YES, CHEF
A Sizzle & Burn Novel (Book #1)
Linda Verji
Copyright © 2016 by Linda Verji
www.lindaverji.com
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent from the author, excepting brief quotes in reviews.
This is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), events, businesses or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Duong Covers
An Interracial BWWM Romance
Rated 18+ for Explicit Sex & Strong Language
Titles In This Series
Yes, Chef (#1)
For information on Linda Verji’s other books and series join Linda’s Reading Group
Table of Contents
Description
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Epilogue
What’s Next?
DESCRIPTION
Chef Greyson Teller has had a thing for Snow Harrison since the moment she walked into his kitchen asking for a job. When she breaks up with her longtime boyfriend for what has to be the millionth time, he decides that this is finally his chance to show her that he’s the one who truly knows the way to her heart.
It’s about to get hot in the kitchen.
‘Once you truly believe you’re worthy of love, you will never settle for anyone’s second best treatment.’
~ Charles J. Orlando ~
CHAPTER 1
This was it. This was the day she finally killed him.
Snow Harrison stared in horror at the mess that was her couch. Her beautiful, baby-blue couch that she’d saved two months worth of her salary to purchase was no longer beautiful. No, it wasn’t. The poor thing was peppered with chunks of partially digested food and a nasty-looking, thick liquid, as if someone had hurled directly onto it. Even worse was the smell that permeated the room; the rancid eye-watering stink of fermenting alcohol merged with the stomach-turning odor of vomit to form a concoction that was lethal enough to make a woman’s eyes bleed.
Oh, Charlie was definitely dead today.
She swiveled on her heels and started for the bedroom but a frantic knocking on her front door made her change direction. She opened the door to find Lauren from next door and her six-year-old daughter, Elsie standing at her doorstep. It was immediately obvious that Elsie had been crying. Her round, plump face was tear-streaked and her mouth was drawn in a pout.
Snow forced a smile to her face. “Hi, Lauren, Elsie. What can I-”
“Uh-uh. Don’t even try that smiley-smiley nonsense with me,” Lauren snapped, dispelling any illusions that she was here for a friendly cup of tea. The black-haired, voluptuous woman ordered, “Come to the parking lot.”
“Why?”
“Come to the parking lot and you’ll see.” Gripping Elsie’s hand tight, Lauren strode away from the door.
From the woman’s tone, Snow guessed that she wasn’t being invited out there to see something good, but she followed the pair out to the parking lot anyway. The scene that met Snow’s eyes more than explained why Lauren was as livid as she was. Charlie’s silver, sports-car was parked carelessly across both Lauren and Snow’s parking spaces as if he’d stopped his car without bothering to make sure he was in the right space. But what caught Snow’s attention was the mangled remains of Elsie’s purple bike beneath the front tires of Charlie’s car.
Snow’s hands flew to her mouth. “Charlie did this?”
“Is that a real question?” Lauren retorted angrily.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Snow apologized.
“Look at what your husband did.” Lauren jabbed her finger at the sports-car. “Just look.”
“He’s not my hus-” Snow started to correct but the irate look in the other woman’s eyes was enough to make her snap her mouth closed.
“I’ve had it up to here with you two.” Lauren pressed her fists to her waist as she raged on. “What is wrong with you? Last time it was my flowerbed, today it’s Elsie’s bike. What will it be next time? Elsie?”
At the mention of her name, Elsie let out a pitiful sniff.
“I’m so sorry,” Snow tried again.
But Mother Dearest wasn’t done with her tirade. “Have you ever bought a bike? Do you know how much that one cost? It was Elsie’s birthday present and now look at it. Look at it!”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sor-”
“Uh-uh, uh-uh. No sorrys.” Lauren shook her head. “I just want to know when Elsie’s new bike is coming.”
Snow started, “I don’t kn-”
“Today evening.” Lauren cut her off. “If we don’t have a bike by this evening, I’m suing both you and Charles. Let’s see how you explain this mess to a judge.”
With that threat hanging behind them like smoke off a car, Lauren and Elsie stormed away leaving Snow stiff with both anger and anxiety. If it was any other person, the threat would’ve had less bite. Unfortunately, when Lauren wasn’t being mother-of-the-year she was an attorney with a reputation for winning every case she touched.
Snow watched the retreating mother and daughter team for a moment more before she angrily strode back into her house. She headed to the kitchen and snatched a garbage bag before making her way to the bedroom. The smell of stale alcohol was even more pervasive in the small room. Though the drapes were drawn, the dim light in the room was enough to illuminate the fully dressed man sprawled face-up on her bed.
Even drunk as a skunk and with his mouth partially open, it was hard to deny that Charles Dumas the Third was attractive. Six feet tall, thick lips with an attractive evening stubble surrounding them, muscular body and skin that was a smooth shade of caramel courtesy of his black and Filipino genes. Add in his family background and hefty trust-fund and he was a catch by most women’s standards. But those women didn’t know him well. Years of Charlie’s bullshit had erased the stars in Snow’s eyes. Now, she saw him for what he was; a boy who refused to grow-up.
This fool! She glared at him. He didn’t even have the decency to kick off his dirty shoes before plopping over her white comforter.
Indifferent to whether she woke him up or not, she strode to her closet and thrust open the doors. They banged so loudly against the wall that she thought the sound might wake Charlie. It didn’t. All he did was snore loudly before turning onto his stomach to continue his beauty sleep. Kissing her teeth, Snow grabbed an armful of his clothes from the closet and stuffed them into the garbage bag.
The clothes and toiletries he kept at her place were few enough that it barely took her ten minutes to pack them all up. Once done, she strode to the windows and with one rough yank pulled aside the drapes to let in the morning’s brilliant sunlight. Charlie groaned and turned his face away from the windows but didn’t wake up.
&nbs
p; Anger leading her, Snow strode closer to him and plucked his wallet from his back pocket. A glance inside it revealed a significant amount of cash and a few credit cards. That should be enough to buy a new bike for Elsie. Snow tossed the wallet into her bedside drawer before hauling the garbage bag over her shoulder.
Then she swung it.
It met his back with a satisfying thump.
“Ugh.” Charlie jerked upwards and turned his head in her direction.
She waited until his bloodshot eyes were staring at her before ordering coldly, “Get out.”
“What the-”
She swung again, this time catching him right in the head. “Get out.”
“Snow, what are you-”
“Get out.” She swung again but this time Charlie had the good sense to roll off the bed and the full garbage bag landed on the bed instead.
With agility that was surprising in his current state, he sprung to his feet to stand beside the bed and glare at her. “What’s going on?”
“What’s going on is that I’m done with your bullshit.” She tossed the garbage bag to him and it fell at his feet. “Get out of my house and take your crap with you.”
“Is this about last night?” Charlie rubbed his eyes and face. His voice gruff with sleep, he explained, “I know I told you that I’d pick you from work but something urgent came up.”
Yeah, urgent like a drink with the boys. She wanted to yell at him that responsible men in long-term relationships put their girlfriends before their boys. A responsible man would’ve bothered to call if he was going to be late, and he certainly wouldn’t have come home drunk, let alone left a trail of vomit in his wake. But she’d had that same conversation with him too many times to count. She wasn’t doing it again.
She snatched a pillow from the bed and hurled it at him. “I said get out.”
He blocked the pillow with his arms as he took a step towards the door. “Baby, we can ta-”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get out.” She snatched his car keys and tossed them in his direction. They fell at his feet with a loud jingle.
Charlie stared at the keys but didn’t pick them up. Rubbing his temple, he glared at her. “It’s too early for this crap, Snow.”
He was damn right. It was too early for his crap. She grabbed the bedside lamp. “Get out.”
Charlie guffawed. “You won’t throw it.”
She plucked the lamp’s chord from the socket and lifted the lamp higher threateningly.
“You won’t throw it.” This time his voice held a note of doubt.
Snow gave him a narrow-eyed glare that said ‘won’t I?’ better than any words could.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll go.” Charlie rolled his eyes as he bent to grab his keys. “We can discuss this when you’re sane again.”
It took everything in Snow to keep from tossing the lamp at his back as he exited the room. With self-control she didn’t know she possessed, she sucked in a deep breath and set the lamp back on the bedside table. A moment later she regretted that action because Charlie reappeared at the door.
His expression was shocked as he asked, “Hey, did I do that to your couch?”
Who did he think had done it? If glares were daggers, the one she sent him would’ve skewered him to the wall.
“Damn, I must’ve been really out of it.” Charlie gave her a sheepish smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll send Marion to come and clean it up.”
“Be sure to.” Though she was angry, she wasn’t enough of a masochist to refuse an offer for free clean-up.
Charlie gave her a blinding smile. “We’ll talk later, right?”
“No need,” she bit out. “You and I are done. We have nothing more to talk about.”
“Aw, come on, Snow. Just cause I was drunk?”
His words were enough to snap the thin thread holding her temper. She didn’t know when she grabbed the lamp – one second it was still on the bedside table and the next it was flying towards Charlie’s head. Charlie was damn lucky that he could move fast because if it wasn’t for his quick duck, his pretty face would’ve ended up a bloody mess.
“Fuck!” he yelped as he took several steps back. “Are you crazy?”
Snow was so angry it felt like her whole body was on fire. “Get the hell out my house.”
She started towards Charlie, intent on causing bodily harm, but before she could reach him, Charlie scampered out of the room. “Okay! Okay!”
She followed him but by the time she got to the living room, the front door was already slamming behind him. Only a lack of interest in putting on a show for the neighbors kept her from following him outside. She stood in the living room taking in deep breaths to calm herself. Moments later, she heard a car starting then a loud screeching as Charlie made his exit. It was only once she was sure he was gone that she took her first easy breath of the day.
God! Charlie was truly an expert at ruining her day. Why? Why? Why couldn’t he be the kind of man she could depend on to come home on time and sober? The kind of man who didn’t make her worry about his safety? Snow still remembered their days in high-school when his ‘don’t-give-a-damn’ ways had seemed so sexy, so exciting, so bold. Those days when she still imagined that she was a sorceress who could change her bad boy into Prince Charming.
Hah! What a delusional idiot she’d been.
Well, she was done with the delusions. Twelve years was enough to give to a man who only took. This time, she was really done wasting her days on him. Done! Done! Done!
CHAPTER 2
Apparently, Snow was an open book because the moment she got to work everyone noticed that something was going on with her.
“What’s wrong?” Alvina Song, better known as Vina, asked as they stood side-by-side prepping for lunch service. Snow liked to tease Vina that she was her living anime doll because she was so… cute. It was hard to believe that the Korean chef was all of thirty-years-old. She was barely five feet tall and had child-like pretty features complimented by slanted eyes and long black hair that brushed her waist. Most people assumed she was still a teenager and proceeded to treat her that way. Not for long though because Vina was the mistress of cutting down people to size.
When Snow didn’t answer her question, Vina repeated, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Snow said curtly as she vigorously chopped a carrot.
Vina’s eyebrows shot up. “Then why are you trying to kill those carrots? Stab them any harder and we might have to organize a funeral.”
Snow didn’t have any chance to answer because Oscar, another one of the chefs, called out from behind them. “I bet it’s because she and Charming broke up. Again.”
The way he said that ‘again’ made Snow turn her head to glare at him. Oscar responded to the glare with a derisive chuckle. Oscar had what Snow liked to call the ‘my-mother-might-have-been-a-meth-head’ look about him. The thirty-something chef was tall, extremely pale and scarily skinny with a full head of dark, curly hair that highlighted his gaunt face and ostrich neck. But judging from the self-important smirk he loved to wear and how he constantly hit on anything in a skirt, one would’ve thought that he was Channing Tatum in disguise.
“Oscar, don’t you have something better to do with your time other than eavesdrop on other people’s conversations?” Vina said coldly. “Like learn how to cook?”
Ignoring Vina, Oscar teased, “Come on, Snow. Tell the truth. Did you and Charming break up again?”
“Mind your own business.” Snow gritted between her teeth.
“So that’s a yes?” Oscar’s smirk broke into full grin as he turned to face the rest of the kitchen. “Ladies and gents, I’m taking bets. Place your bets on how long this ‘breakup’ will last. I’m putting twenty on a week.”
He turned away from the two ladies just as Snow snatched a pan from the counter. If it wasn’t for Vina grabbing Snow’s wrist, Oscar would’ve found himself nursing a nasty bump on the back of his head.
“Asshole!” Snow shouted at his ret
reating back.
“Correction – entrepreneurial asshole,” Oscar retorted with another grin before heading out of the kitchen.
“You should’ve let me bash his head,” Snow muttered as she glared at Oscar’s retreating back.
“Then you would’ve been in jail,” Vina said matter-of-factly. “And you know I don’t pay bail money.”
“Why not?” Snow stared aghast at her. “I’m your best-friend.”
“Hey, you did the crime. You pay for it.”
Snow shook her head. “Your generosity astounds me.”
Vina laughed. “I try.”
A moment later, April, Snow and Vina’s other partner in crime and the restaurant’s hostess appeared at the kitchen’s doorway. “Hey Snow, why is Oscar out there collecting bets about when you and Charlie will get back together?”
“Because he’s an asshole.” Snow brushed carrots from her cutting board into a bowl.
“That’s not what I meant.” April, like Snow, was black but her skin was a much lighter shade and she had that willowy, slender look that models starved themselves for. As if her looks weren’t enough to leave any woman frothing with jealousy, she was so stylish people often asked if she was an actress or model. She was the kind of woman other women loved to hate, and if she wasn’t so nice, Snow would’ve probably hated her too.
April’s eyes were filled with concern as she strode towards Snow’s station. “Please tell me you and Charlie didn’t break up again.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.” Snow grabbed several more carrots.
April sighed loudly, her disappointment echoing through the kitchen. “What did he do now?”
Snow didn’t look up from the carrots she was chopping. “Came home late and drunk, trashed my neighbor’s bike, puked on my sofa… the usual.”
“Oh!” It was sad how both April and Vina showed no surprise.
“At least you didn’t have to pick him from lock-up this time,” April said.