by Olivia Burke
“Oh, you know, we didn’t want to draw attention to ourselves.”
Hunter shot her a skeptical look. “Right. So why did you ask me the other day if I wanted to be your platonic date if you have a boyfriend waiting in the wings?”
A customer flagged her down for a refill, and she practically leapt at the opportunity to think about Hunter’s question. When she finished helping the customer, she gave him an innocent shrug.
“We weren’t sure we wanted to come out of the closet, so to speak. It’s my sister’s day, you know? I didn’t want to spoil it by flaunting my celebrity chef boyfriend.” Inwardly, Aubrey cringed, hating herself for using the term she knew Tom hated.
“What changed your minds?”
“He, um, decided he really wanted to meet my family,” Aubrey said, thinking quickly. “We just didn’t want to sneak around anymore.”
“Funny, that’s usually the best part.” Hunter shook his head with a laugh, heading over to check on customers at the end of the bar.
With only a few minutes left for the kitchen, they’d begun cleaning up their stations. The bar was still hopping, and Hunter and Aubrey took turns training Adam on a few more drinks. She poured a beer for one customer and found herself with a spare minute.
She couldn’t help it–she wanted to find an excuse to go talk to Tom.
“Hey, I’m going to put these in the fridge,” Aubrey told the guys, picking up the container of fruit they’d had on standby. “Be back in a few minutes.”
“Oh sure, go see your boyfriend,” Hunter said, drawing out the word in a teasing way.
Aubrey took care in putting items in the fridge out back, and paused in the kitchen entrance on her way back through the hallway. The pastry guy saw her first.
“Oh, let me guess,” he said, cupping a hand around his mouth and speaking up to the other side, “the bartender to see the chef.”
Aubrey rolled her eyes, thanking him as Tom slipped out from around his side of the kitchen. He took the moment to wash his hands in the sink by the doorway, raising a brow at her.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing, just checking in. It’s like a constant game of twenty questions out there,” Aubrey said, gesturing to the front of house. “If I have to tell Rachel about that scavenger hunt one more time, I’m going to ask you to make one up just for her. How about you?”
Tom shrugged. “I mean, all the guys think I’m either a god in bed or I’ve put you under a spell, so either way, I come out looking pretty good.”
Aubrey swatted him on the arm, unable to hide a giggle. “C’mon, they all know you’re a total catch, too.”
“Only because I’m a celebrity chef,” Tom said, amusement fading a bit. “That’s clearly why your sister thinks I’m some weird kind of big deal.”
Aubrey elbowed him. “As smart as my sister is, she’s strangely materialistic. She doesn’t see all the other things that make you so special.”
“You think so?”
The softness in his voice made her pause, her heartbeat suddenly louder than usual in her ears.
“Uh, I just mean,” Tom stammered, “that you should listen to your own advice, too. Not wondering if you think I’m special.”
“Of course you’re special,” Aubrey said with a laugh. She jerked a thumb back in the right direction. “I gotta get back before Hunter starts teaching Adam bar tricks.”
“Of course,” Tom said, ushering her down the hallway. “The last thing we need is a three-ring circus out there.”
She laughed, returning to the bar, but Hunter and Adam had everything under control. She continued to clean up, not paying attention to the front door opening. Aubrey had her back to the bar stools, but a man’s voice called out his order. “Hey gorgeous, let me get a whiskey. Neat.”
“You got it.”
Aubrey pulled the bottle from the shelf and poured his drink. He was a regular-looking guy, although a bit bleary in the eyes. Observing him, she definitely believed he’d already had a few drinks. This would need to be his first and last drink at LUSH tonight.
She glanced up at the kitchen without even realizing, startled to meet Tom’s gaze. His head snapped back to his station, a red sheen creeping up his neck, and little butterflies suddenly seemed to dance in her stomach. Aubrey mentally scolded herself, trying to refocus on tasks in front of her. The last thing she needed right now was some sort of self-imposed boy drama. Especially with Tom. She had to get ahold of herself.
Aside from the guys ribbing Tom all night about Aubrey–which, truth be told, he didn’t mind so much–the night had been great. Service ran like clockwork that evening, all the way up until just before the kitchen closed. The bar was still open, and Tom hardly registered the front door opening as a customer came in to grab one more drink before last call. Most of the crowd had moved on, and only a handful of diners remained, enjoying the last remnants of dinner, dessert, or freshly brewed coffee.
Tom glanced up at the familiar lilting voice. Aubrey, telling some dude to not grab her arm from across the bar. He could tell she was annoyed, and his stomach churned with what felt like dragon’s fire. It wasn’t jealousy, per se, but the need to protect her–despite him knowing full well she could defend herself–overwhelmed him. He swallowed hard, turning back to the root vegetables he’d been wrapping up.
All the same, he couldn’t help but blatantly listen to anything he could at the bar. A few minutes went by before her voice drifted over again, drawing Tom’s attention back to her.
“Sir, I’ve asked you once already, please do not grab me like that,” Aubrey said between gritted teeth. “Let go.”
The man didn’t release her wrist right away, leaning in over the bar to get closer to her. Tom’s vision blurred red and he didn’t even realize he’d marched out from behind his station until he was a couple steps out of the kitchen. Too late to turn back, he didn’t stop until he’d reached the bar, standing behind the rude customer’s barstool. He didn’t bother with formalities.
“Let go of her.” Tom didn’t recognize his own voice for a second.
Aubrey’s blue eyes went wide at the sight of Tom standing there. The customer released her wrist, twisting in his chair to look at the restaurant’s chef. Rather than apologize or look abashed, as he had expected, the guy sneered at him instead.
“What, is she your girlfriend?”
“It doesn’t matter one way or another,” Tom said, crossing his arms over his chest. “You owe her an apology.”
“It’s okay, Chef, I don’t need your help,” Aubrey said quickly.
“I know you don’t,” Tom replied. “But that’s not the point. The point is that we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, including jerks who harass our staff.”
The customer’s face grew red, whether from alcohol or embarrassment, Tom wasn’t sure. “You have no right to speak to me that way.”
“And you have no right to touch a woman without her consent, yet here we are.”
The man spluttered. “What if I was a food critic?”
Tom shrugged, although his insides twisted a bit at the thought. “Then I guess you’ll give me a snide review that has nothing to do with the actual caliber of my food.”
Aubrey, along with the rest of the restaurant within immediate earshot, watched the exchange in awe. Katie and Rachel poked their heads out of the service station, their mouths wide open. Even Hunter had paused his flirting at the far end of the bar to watch with great interest.
The customer sneered at Tom. “Chefs with attitudes don’t get far in your industry, you know.”
“So you say,” Tom replied. “But I have chef friends, and we can make sure you never eat well in this town again. Is that worth it to you?”
“I could go to your manager, the owner, the media,” the man threatened. “This could go viral.”
Tom towered over the guy, still in his chair, and leaned in close enough to smell the alcohol on the man’s breath. “I’m sure that will go
well when they all realize exactly why I asked you to leave. What do you do for work, sir? Because I’m sure your customers would love to know the truth and decide for themselves whether to keep your business.”
The guy paled, clearly too drunk to have figured that out already. His mouth opened and closed a few times, but he said nothing, and Tom nodded.
“You’ve had enough to drink, sir, and our kitchen is closed, so I suggest you find someplace else to go. Just keep your hands to yourself.” He backed away only enough so that the man could off his chair. “Oh and sir? Don’t come back to LUSH, unless you’d like to recreate this little scene and embarrass yourself further.”
The guest wasted no time slipping off the stool. He laid a ten dollar bill on the bar, turning and stumbling out of LUSH without so much as a second glance at Aubrey or Tom. The entire place was so quiet, everyone could hear the door shut after his exit.
The red in Tom’s vision finally faded a bit, and when he blinked it away, he realized he still stood in the front of house, every patron’s eyes on him. He pasted on an apologetic smile.
“Sorry for the show, folks. Free scoop of ice cream for everyone, on the house.”
Tom turned on his heel and hurried back to his kitchen, ignoring the looks of patrons and servers alike. The moment he turned the corner, his kitchen staff leapt into movement, having clearly watched the entire thing out front. His two guys at the end paused cleaning to get out a handful of bowls and scooped a bit of ice cream for everyone as promised.
Seth gaped at him. “Are you okay, man?”
Tom held up a finger. “Give me a minute to let the rage fade.”
“I’ve never seen you do anything like that.”
His temper cooled a bit, just as Aubrey came back to the kitchen. She slipped in to stand opposite him, the metal table between them.
“Tommy, that was …” Aubrey trailed off, her voice full of wonder. She cleared her throat. “Thank you for standing up for me.”
“You’re welcome, although I really do stand by what I said,” Tom replied. “He shouldn’t be doing that to anyone. I know you can stand up for yourself.”
“I thought you were going to punch him,” Aubrey said, blue eyes still wide as she stared at him.
“Strongly considered it.”
Aubrey shifted her weight, glancing at Seth before focusing back on Tom. “Well, like I said … thank you for doing it. I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Me either,” Seth mumbled.
Tom shot him a dark look, and Seth quickly turned back to his grill, removing himself from the conversation.
“You okay to get back to work?” Tom asked Aubrey.
At his serious shift, her back straightened and she nodded. “Yes, Chef. See you later.”
She exited the kitchen and went back to the bar. Tom risked a glance up, watching her ignore the customers’ chatter and questions. Just as he’d asked, she got back to work, grabbing ingredients and a shaker to make up a patron’s last drink. Tom ignored the flare of jealousy as Hunter elbowed her, whispering something that made her laugh a little and relax back into their groove.
“Man, you’ve got it worse than I thought,” Seth muttered next to him as they cleaned.
Tom scowled at his best friend. “I told you, it wasn’t just for Aubrey.”
“Uh huh. Well, I’m sure Natalie and the other girls also thank you for being an ally.”
Aubrey was still thinking about the incident at the bar the next day, downright boggled at how it had gone down. She’d never seen Thomas Flanagan so aggressive. Honestly, she hadn’t known he had it in him.
And why was she trying to kid herself? She found it totally hot to watch him stand up to a jerk that way, not just for her, but for the sheer fact it was what he believed.
Aubrey couldn’t believe her own thoughts. Since when did she start crushing on Thomas Flanagan? He was so not her type.
Although, maybe that was the point. It was entirely why she’d asked him to be her pseudo-date, wasn’t it?
He’s your best friend.
That knocked any looming crush right out of her mind. Aubrey shook her head, willing any strange thoughts about her friend out of it. Tommy was one of her closest friends; even if she did feel anything for him, there was no guarantee he felt the same way about her. Besides, it wouldn’t be worth risking their friendship.
Right?
While cleaning up after breakfast, Aubrey grimaced at the amount of tupperware she’d borrowed from Tom. Or rather, that he’d given her when he sent food home with her after a visit. She’d cleaned it all already, but hadn’t bothered returning it yet.
“I should do that,” she told herself. “It’d be rude to let him think I stole it.”
Ignoring the tiny voice in the back of her head that said she was making up excuses to see Tom, she gathered up all the plastic containers and managed to get out of her house and across the street. Aubrey banged through Tom and Seth’s house without knocking, using her foot to close the door behind her.
“Hello?” she called when she saw the empty living room.
“In here,” Tom called from the kitchen.
She wandered in, arms full, and he laughed at her awkward arrival.
“I needed to return your tupperware,” Aubrey said, setting all the containers on the counter. “Thanks for the leftovers you send home.”
“I’m beginning to think you’d starve if it weren’t for me,” Tom said, rolling his eyes.
“I made an egg and cheese sandwich this morning,” Aubrey said defensively.
He shot her a skeptical look. “How’d the bread turn out?”
“Blackened.” Aubrey heaved a sigh while he laughed again, though she couldn’t help but notice he looked pleased at the fact. Maybe he enjoyed cooking for her. And all his friends, she reminded herself, not wanting to stir up that thought again.
They moved into the living room and Aubrey flopped onto the couch. “What are you up to this afternoon? Where’s Seth?”
“He and Nat went to see a movie,” Tom answered, sitting close beside her instead of his usual chair. “Thought I’d work on a couple recipes.”
“Of course you did.”
“What else would I do?”
“I don’t know,” Aubrey said, mulling it over. “We could get outside, go for a hike or a bike ride?”
Tom made a show of gesturing to his pale, freckled arms and neck. “I’d be lobster red within five minutes.”
Aubrey giggled. “There’s such a thing as sunscreen, you know.”
“You wear it all the time outside, don’t you?” Tom pointed to her half-sleeve of tattoos.
“Oh yeah,” she said, rubbing a hand absentmindedly over her shoulder. “Otherwise they’ll fade faster and I’ve spent far too much time and money to let that happen.”
Tom hummed under his breath, still eyeing her shoulder as if memorizing the colorful details. “How many do you technically have there?”
“Four, but I’ve had six sessions. My parents think they’re way too much,” she said, looking down lovingly at the ink on her arm. “But that’s always been one thing I’ve never listened to them about.”
“I love your tattoos,” Tom said.
He brushed a finger down her inked upper arm, making a shiver go down her back. She couldn’t hide the goosebumps that broke out across her skin, and for a second, she swore Tom smiled.
“I know it adds to that ‘wild child’ persona everyone thinks I have–”
“No,” he cut her off. “They’re perfect. They’re you, every last one, representing a piece of you. How could they not be perfect?”
A warm glow rested on Aubrey’s cheeks and in her chest. No one had ever said anything like that to her. Tom’s eyes met hers, and her heart caught in her throat. She had to change the subject or risk wanting to kiss him.
“I can’t believe you don’t have any,” Aubrey told him, grinning. “Like, doesn’t everyone in a kitchen have at least one?”
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“I’ve actually always wanted a bunch,” Tom admitted, giving her a sheepish look.
“What?” Aubrey exclaimed. “Are you serious?”
He nodded.
“Well, why not?”
“It used to be because my dad hated them. He’s old-school, ya know? But then after I went out on my own, I guess I just never worked up the nerve. Told myself I didn’t have time, or money, that kinda stuff.”
Excitement brewed within her belly and she couldn’t contain it. “Tommy, you have to get one!”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Tom said, backpedaling.
“No, no take-backsies,” Aubrey said, pushing against his upper arm. She reached for her phone, already searching for her friend’s number. “If it’s something you’ve always wanted, you should go for it. You have the time, I’ll pay for it if I have to! We’ll call it a lifetime of birthday gifts in one.”
He burst out laughing. “Money isn’t the issue. But when do I have the time?”
“Right now!”
Tom’s hazel eyes went wide. “What, no–”
“We have plenty of time before work.”
Her tattoo artist answered her call and Aubrey put a finger up to shush Tom. “Hey Starla, it’s Aubrey! My friend–uh, boyfriend,” Aubrey corrected, willing Tom not to laugh at the catch, “he’s ready for his first tattoo.”
“Virgin skin?” Starla purred over the line. “Bring him in already. I’ve actually got a couple hours free right now.”
“Yes,” Aubrey crowed, pumping her fist in the air. “See you soon.”
“Wait, boyfriend?” Starla asked, but Aubrey quickly hung up. She laughed, clapping her hands on her knees and popping off the couch. She offered her hand to Tom. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Tom had gone even paler than usual in the last thirty seconds, gazing up at her with anxious brown eyes. It made her heart melt.
“R-really?” he asked, eyes darting to the stairs as if to make a getaway. “Right now?”
“Let’s go, Chef.”
A heartbeat went by before Tom set his jaw, grabbed Aubrey’s hand, and pulled himself from his chair. He didn’t let go of her hand as he got to both feet, and she held on tight. To keep him from getting scared, she told herself, ignoring the voice that replied, yeah, right.