In the Fire

by Eileen Griffin

  He tried to smile, then gave up and continued prep for the entree courses as I took a deep breath and walked into the dining room area of the suite and froze. Instead of Trevor sitting next to Jamie smugly, my sister Claire sat sipping a glass of wine. She wore the same dress she’d worn to the gala and a satisfied smile.

  “Well, now I know why you were too busy to help me out tonight. Must be rough being Golden Boy’s date.”

  Claire smirked at me as she took another sip of wine. “Jamie needed a date for this culinary extraordinaire of an evening and since Trevor couldn’t make it, I happily volunteered.”

  I looked down at the table—two place settings. A quick scan of the room showed no sign of Trustfund anywhere. I had no idea where he was, hopefully falling into a cavernous pit of Hell somewhere, but at least I’d only have to deal with one Richie Rich tonight instead of two.

  I set the tray down on the table, introduced the appetizers and stalked back to the kitchen. I refused to play into whatever shit Lassiter had cooked up and roped my sister into as well. If he wanted to play Lord of the Manor and be served, fine. But I’d be damned if I’d fawn all over him after this ambush.

  I sent Tyler out to replenish wine and drinks but kept cooking, hoping to finish the entrees and get out before my head exploded.

  Forty-five minutes later, I finished plating up the entrees and enlisted his help in carrying the main course out to the dining room. This time when I appeared, they both continued laughing and talking and I again regretted the way Lassiter and I had crashed and burned. Claire obviously had missed him and he felt the same. When we’d split and I’d cut off all contact, it had taken away a friendship they’d both cherished. I felt guilt settle in my chest, followed by anger. Why did Lassiter insist on dredging up shit that was best left buried?

  I set down the plates of the seared venison and chowder and waited for Claire to finish her thought.

  “You should definitely check out the neighborhood we’re in. There are some good spaces for sale right now and I know you’d be able to find a place to remodel easily.”

  Spaces for sale? Here in Seattle? What the fuck? I held back my question and focused on the food. What did it matter what I thought? “I’ve prepared for you smoky coffee-rubbed venison and basil pan-seared scallops with garlic rosemary mashed potatoes and sautéed kale with a hint of lemon and balsamic. Bon appetit.”

  Claire scowled. “Jesus, E. You don’t have to go all robo chef with the food. This all looks delicious. Why don’t you stay and talk for a minute?”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got to start on the dessert course.” I topped off Claire’s wine and Jamie’s and headed back to the kitchen, her frustrated sigh echoing behind me.

  “Always so damn stubborn, brother of mine.” I didn’t acknowledge her words but kept on going.

  Back in the kitchen, I barked at Tyler, “Start cleaning up while I work on the crème brûlée.” His worried glance as he jumped to start washing the dirty pots and pans only added to my guilt over everything. I took a deep breath. Tyler didn’t deserve any of my bullshit tonight. The only person who deserved it was in the other room right now cozying up to my traitorous sister.

  I quickly prepped the ramekins with the crème brûlée, slid them into the water bath and popped them in the oven to cook. Afterward I’d caramelize the sugar with the small torch. As soon as I could, I joined him in washing dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. I was beyond ready to get the hell out of there.

  “You did awesome.” I bumped his shoulder with mine as I finished up the last of the pots in the sink.

  “Thanks, Chef.” He smiled sheepishly.

  “No, thank you for giving up your day off. You can go. There’s no point in keeping you longer when I can get the rest of this stuff back to the restaurant on my own.”

  He nodded and untied his apron, handing it to me to bring back for the laundry service. “Have a good night, Chef.”

  After Tyler left the kitchen, I plated both crème brûlées and the accompanying sauce. I stuck the torch under my arm, balancing the plates with two fresh glasses and the dessert wine I’d picked out. The fruitiness of the wine would complement the huckleberries in the crème brûlée perfectly.

  When I reentered the dining room, I found Claire putting on her coat while Tyler waited for her by the door.

  “Stop overthinking this, Ethan. It’s not that difficult of a situation and your brain is going to explode if you don’t calm down. I’ve overstayed my welcome, so I’m going to grab Tyler and go. Cal covered for me at the restaurant so we could both see Jamie tonight. Neither one of us knew what to expect since we just reopened, but I want to stop by and check on him and the staff before I head home.” She leaned up to kiss my cheek softly. “Don’t fuck this up again.”

  When she pulled back, she winked at Tyler. “Come on, Ty, let’s blow this Popsicle stand and leave the lovebirds to it.”

  While I glared she grabbed one of the bags from Tyler. Still visibly confused, he followed her out the door. When it closed behind them with a soft click, I was left with a very amused Jamie Lassiter. I kept my eyes down on the desserts and away from his as I lit the torch and caramelized the tops of the brûlées, softly uttering, “Fuck,” when I felt him reach across the table.

  “I’m sorry, Ethan. But this was the only way I could get you to talk to me.”

  I yanked off my apron, tossed it on the table and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. I crossed my arms, waiting for him to speak.

  “You wanted to get my attention, Lassiter? Fine. Talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jamie

  I picked up my spoon and scooped a bite of the crème brûlée, closing my eyes to savor the creamy sweetness when it hit my tongue. I motioned to the untouched ramekin. “This is too good to waste. Why don’t you share with me, then we can talk?”

  Ethan’s gaze briefly flitted to the door, then back to my face. He shook his head. Apprehension rolled off him in waves and I knew he was trying to figure out the fastest exit strategy.

  Regretfully, I put down my spoon. “Look, I know you don’t want to be here, but I have to say it was worth it. The meal was incredible. I haven’t had a venison that good in ages.”

  Ethan’s smile was smug as he toyed with the edge of one of the napkins on the table. “Well, I needed a menu to please the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, so a traditional Pac Northwest meal seemed appropriate. Glad it was up to snuff with your golden palate.”

  I snorted softly. I’d missed his insults, in an odd and demented sort of way. He kept his eyes on the napkin he was worrying between his fingers.

  “Ethan, anyone would have loved the meal you just cooked, golden palate or not. You were insanely talented when we were in school together, but I can honestly say you’ve far surpassed that level. Working at Sharpe’s has been so good for you. Look how good you are with Tyler.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, Ethan. You’re not the bastard you think you are. You’re patient and kind and generous with Tyler. Everyone can see it.”

  “It’s my job to make sure he does shit right.”

  “Yes it’s your job. But you’re different with him.”

  He finally looked up at me, his expression a mixture of anger and hurt. “Well, I didn’t train in a fancy-ass five-star restaurant in New York, but I wouldn’t trade my time at Cal’s for anything.”

  “True. Not everyone did get to go to Paris and land a job at Cielo. And it seems to be the only conversation we know how to have anymore. The choices and opportunities that set us on this path.”

  His jaw tightened as he spit out the next words. “We all make choices, Golden Boy. The trick is learning to live with them.”

  In as even a voice as I could, I replied, “Yes. Yes we do. Even the choices we didn’
t choose to make. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “If you’re talking about Trevor, that’s your own fault for letting him be master and commander of all your decisions.”

  I kept my eyes locked on his as I stood and moved toward him. “Actually, I’m not talking about Trevor right now, but I agree we need to. And soon. No, what I’m referring to happened before I even knew Trevor.”

  Ethan’s body went still, his eyes darting back to the door before turning to look at me. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, Lassiter. I thought you were over Mommy Dearest and Daddy Demented controlling your life.”

  The urge to reach out and smack him almost overrode all rational thought. “Getting warmer, but nope. It cost me ten thousand dollars in therapy to say ‘I was very angry at my parents.’ But I’m over it. I’m talking about after dear old Mom and Dad disinherited me.”

  I hid a smile when Ethan bit out. “I said no Pretty Woman jokes. Jesus, having to watch that shitty movie over and over again with Claire was bad enough.” Ethan’s shoulders sagged as he closed his eyes. “Just spit it out, Lassiter. I’m not in the mood to play games tonight.”

  My voice wavered. “Why did you do it, E? I need to hear it from you. No one else, just you.”

  He cleared his throat but didn’t answer. I smiled sadly and took pity on him, unable to stand the look on his face.

  “Why did you bow out of the scholarship competition? And why didn’t you talk to me about it? I can’t honestly say which hurt more when I found out about all this—you sabotaging your opportunity to study in Paris, or not saying a word to me about it afterward.”

  All the energy that had drained out of Ethan a few moments ago came surging back as his body vibrated with his anger. “Who told you? Trevor had no right to dig into my personal shit.”

  My voice rose with a slight edge I was having trouble controlling. “Does it really matter? I’m just hurt you never told me. Hell, Ethan, I was under the impression we shared everything when we were together. I was closer to you than I had ever been with anyone my entire life, and you couldn’t tell me what really happened in that interview?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face, his expression sad and resigned. “Shit. You want to talk about it now? We’ll talk about it now. What did you want me to do? I went into that semester failing every pastry lesson. I wouldn’t have even been in the running for the goddamn scholarship if it hadn’t been for you. So when they asked me why I deserved the scholarship I told them the truth. That I was a badass motherfucking chef, but I didn’t deserve it.” He finally opened his eyes, his voice softer. “You did, though.”

  The pain I had felt when Trevor told me about the scholarship was nothing compared to what I felt now. At first I hadn’t believed it. Once the weight of the news hit me, I had almost asked for the driver to turn around and head back to the Institute. I wanted to hear it from Chef B himself. I wanted to hear what he had casually shared with Trevor after the brunch, which according to Trevor was just ambiguous enough to suggest Ethan had thrown the entire competition, but not an outright statement of fact. I knew if I could just confront Chef B he’d tell me Trevor was lying again, determined more than ever to paint Ethan as the bad guy. But Trevor had been so shaken when he told me, I knew even he wouldn’t have crossed this line with me.

  For two days I had stewed over it, shocked and angry, until I was finally ready to confront Ethan about everything at the restaurant. When he wasn’t there, I’d made a snap decision to confront Claire instead, hoping it had just been another elaborate lie on Trevor’s part to drive more of a wedge between me and Ethan. With as few details as she could get by with, she had confirmed Chef B’s story. Seeing him now, I knew it was all true. I just didn’t understand why.

  “All I wanted was a choice, Ethan. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “What would you have done if you were in my shoes? Take the scholarship even though you knew, deep down inside, you didn’t deserve it?”

  I reached across the table and gently touched the back of his hand with my fingers. He flinched slightly and looked up, the pain and ghosts from all those years ago heavy in his eyes.

  “I honestly don’t know. What I do know is I wanted it to be fair. And the committee’s choice. They should have been the ones to decide who deserved the chance to go to Paris. Not you.”

  His body sagged as he pulled his hand out from under mine, but he said nothing.

  “If all these years apart on our own separate paths have taught me anything, it’s that I would have turned down Paris and chosen to stay.”

  “Jamie—”

  “Let me talk. You asked if Trevor took away my choice. I’m not going to sit here and defend him or his actions. He screwed up and he knows it. For better or worse, I know it now too. But I let him make those choices for me. I should have fought harder for us. I didn’t. And knowing I let you go without a fight hurts more than I can ever tell you.”

  “What’s done is done. I made my choice. You made yours.”

  “Why are you so content to throw all this away? For weeks I’ve wanted to talk to you about everything that happened, but you’ve avoided me. I’m not sure about you, but I don’t want to keep making the wrong choices. Not when it comes to us.”

  Ethan looked at the door, then back to me. His entire body was tense, and I knew he was ready to bolt any second.

  Throwing all caution to the wind, I leaned forward and placed my hand back over his again, this time wrapping my fingers around his tightened fist. “I made some wrong choices eight years ago. Choices that stole too much time from us. I don’t plan on making any more tonight.”

  His eyes widened in surprise as I continued to lean closer. With only a few inches separating us, he closed his eyes, his hand tightening under mine. I might never have another chance like this with him. I closed the distance and softly brushed my lips over his.

  His entire body trembled, but he didn’t pull away. I waited until I felt his hand loosen just a fraction. “I’ve missed you, Ethan.”

  I was about to pull away, when he leaned forward and pressed his lips more firmly to mine. My body thrummed when his tongue tentatively swept across my lips. Before I knew it, I had lifted my free hand and wrapped it around the back of his neck, pulling him harder against me. His answering groan parted his lips and soon my tongue was stroking against his, his taste more incredible than anything he had prepared tonight.

  When I felt him pull back, my heart sank, but instead of pulling all the way back, he rested his forehead against mine.

  “What are we doing here, Jamie? I’m so fucking confused.”

  I smiled, trying to make sense out of it myself. “I don’t know. All I do know is I’m tired of running. I’m only asking we try again. If it doesn’t work out, we can go our separate ways. I just can’t live the rest of my life with a what-if. Can you?”

  He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. Emotions that I thought I’d long buried swirled inside me. Fear, confusion, hurt, frustration. But woven through all of that was a passion I hadn’t felt since before I left for Paris. As Ethan’s gaze dipped toward my lips, I took in a deep breath and sent up a silent prayer that he felt it too.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Ethan

  This was why I’d tried to stay away. When he touched me I couldn’t think. Couldn’t remember anything but how we felt together.

  If I was a smart man, I’d walk away. I’d walk away and pretend we’d ended for good when he chose to go to New York instead of coming home to Seattle. But I didn’t want to. I needed him as much as he needed me. We pissed each other off, pushed each other’s buttons and drove each other up the wall. And I was kidding myself if I thought I’d ever get Jamie Lassiter out of my system.

  I gently tugged him out of his chair and onto my lap, close enough that I could almost tast
e the sweetness of the dessert I’d made on his lips. I hadn’t gotten this far in life by not taking risks. Even if this was a really stupid one.

  “This is quite possibly the worst idea ever. If we’re going to try this, really try this, shouldn’t we be taking it slow?”

  Jamie kissed me again, as every single emotion I’d tried to push down for years bubbled up. My eyes burned and I swallowed hard as I wrapped my arms around his waist.

  “Slow is good.” He pulled back then smiled at me.

  Against my better judgment, I tugged him back for a kiss, loving how I could feel his smile.

  “Slow, remember?” he said between languid kisses. No one in the world kissed like Jamie. Like he couldn’t get enough of me and how we felt together. I reached up to cup his face in my hands as our kisses grew hungry.

  “I hate slow. Worst idea ever.” I tried to hold back a smile. This felt too damn good.

  His amused laugh tickled my lips before he pulled back, staring at me like he used to. I’d missed this—the way he’d looked at me like I made him happy. Once, I had. Before misunderstandings, miscommunication and his roommate had changed the trajectory of our future together.

  “I missed you. I missed this.”

  “Me too, Ethan.”

  I grew impatient and plucked the buttons of his suit jacket open, then shoved it down his shoulders.

  Jamie smiled and leaned down to kiss me. He moaned when I rubbed my hands up and down his thighs. Underneath my fingers, his muscles jumped. He slowly rocked forward as my hands slid down to squeeze his hips and his words vibrated against my skin. “I thought we were going to go slow.”

  “This is slow for us.” Truth was, I wasn’t sure I could handle it if we went any slower. Eight years was just too fucking long to go slow.