by Mia Carson
“Oh, I’ll join you!” Brittany was on her feet and holding open the kitchen door before Walker could think of an excuse for her to stay. “Mr. Allard doesn’t mind a few moments alone.”
“Quite,” he replied and didn’t look at either of them as they left.
Walker led the way into the kitchen, hoping Douglas was there, but he was nowhere in sight. The door swung shut behind them and Brittany was on him, her lips smashed against his as she wrapped her arms around her neck.
“Uh, I’m not sure…we should be doing this,” he mumbled, shoving her away gently.
“Why not? You can’t keep stringing a girl like me along forever, you know.”
“I don’t plan to, but my family is very traditional, you see.”
“And that means we can’t make out? Come on, Walker. I know you want to see what’s under this dress,” she purred, running her hands down her curves.
His eyes followed, but he shook his head and turned his back to her. “Perhaps when we are better acquainted. We have only been dating for a month, you know, which isn’t really that long for me.” He dug around in the cabinets for another bottle of brandy to fill the decanter as her hands snaked around his body again, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “Brittany, my father is in the dining room.”
“Yes, but that’s not the kitchen,” she whispered, pressing herself to his back.
He caught her hands and turned around, forcing her to step back. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I am a man who enjoys moving slowly. Very slowly.”
She pouted, crossing her arms. “Most men I date would’ve been in my bed by now.”
“I am not most men,” he informed her with a raised brow. “And if that’s the type of man you’re looking for—one who trips over his tongue in his hurry to have sex with you—I suggest you leave. I am not that man.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “You can’t talk to me like that. I am a Kraus.”
“And I’m an Allard. Names mean nothing in this conversation. I’m dating you, yes, but I will not turn into your sex toy for your amusement.”
“Are you calling me a slut?”
“I am merely stating the fact that you appear to be more interested in getting into my pants than getting to know me, as was suggested when we began this endeavor.”
She tossed her red hair over her shoulder. “I know about the other two women. We all know about each other.”
“I’m well aware, since it was my father’s idea for me to date the three of you at one time.”
“I’m the better choice of the three. You know it, I know it, and so does your father.”
“Perhaps he does,” Walker agreed, “but in the end, the decision is mine.”
They stared each other down and were only interrupted when the timer dinged on the oven. Douglas suddenly reappeared in the kitchen, humming under his breath. “Oh—sorry, sir, I didn’t realize you were in here with Ms. Kraus.”
“No worries, Douglas. Is dinner ready?” he asked, not breaking the stare-down. He knew the second Douglas pulled the pizza from the oven: Brittany’s eyes widened and her lips turned down in disgust. “Something wrong?”
“Frozen pizza? You were going to serve me frozen pizza?” she stormed. “Ugh. What is wrong with you?”
“I’m afraid neither Douglas nor myself know how to cook, and without a chef, this is what I’ll be serving for dinner.” Walker sniffed the air loudly and sighed. “Hmm. Smells perfect.”
She stuck her nose in the air and her heels clicked as she left the kitchen in a rage. Walker sagged against the counter, filled his brandy glass to the rim, and drank half. He smacked his lips and gave himself a good, hard shake.
“You think she’s gone for good?” he asked as Douglas cut the pizza.
“I doubt it. She’s desperate, that one, with her hands all over you.”
Walker should’ve known Douglas was close by if he heard the oven timer go off. “And you neglected to save me because?”
“I needed entertainment.”
“Walker? Why did Brittany storm out of the house?” Leo asked as he joined them in the kitchen. “Is that…is that pizza?”
“Yes, it is. Would you care for a slice, sir?” Douglas asked happily.
“No, I will dine elsewhere this evening. And as for you,” he said, pointing to his son, “I expect you to continue dating Ms. Kraus. Her family has influence over many companies that would be beneficial to ours.”
“I thought you were pulling for Georgette?”
“All three of the women you date are solid choices for a wife. Remember, you have until the holiday party to decide which one you will marry. Be thankful I’ve giving you months to figure this out,” he added with one final glare at the frozen pizza. “And for God’s sake, find a cook you can keep longer than three weeks.”
Walker swirled the liquor in his glass as his father left. “This turned out to be a marvelous evening, wouldn’t you say?”
Douglas plated the pizza and set them on the island counter. “More for us, sir. I’ll drink to that.”
Walker laughed with him and they dug into the pizza. He ate his first slice as he walked upstairs and unleashed the hounds. They trampled past him to get downstairs and sniff out who had invaded their home. He followed, wondering when his life had become so complicated? Find a wife, secure the new property, make his father proud. All of it seemed hard enough, but the most impossible task was finding a damn decent cook for his own house. If he couldn’t do that, his father might be right. The restaurant would be doomed and they wouldn’t open on time, if at all. Tomorrow would be a long day of placing phone calls and waiting to get lucky in finding the right person for both jobs he needed filled.
Jaylyn sipped her coffee at the kitchen table. Her father’s coughing had kept her up most of the night, but she wouldn’t complain. Since he was taken to the hospital, everything in her life had changed. He had lung cancer. They’d known for a few months but couldn’t afford the treatment on top of paying for the restaurant, so what did her father do? Kept paying for the restaurant, his and Jaylyn’s dream, instead of taking care of himself.
Now the cancer had progressed and what was usually her most exciting time of year to see what fresh, exciting recipes she could come up with was filled with dreary prospects of no job, no money, and a dad who was dying slowly. She couldn’t do anything to help him except be there.
Mariah shuffled into the kitchen and smiled absently at her daughter.
“How is he?” Jaylyn asked.
“Eh, in pain, but says the meds are helping.”
“When is he going in for treatment?”
Mariah sighed, setting down the coffee pot. “You know he won’t. We can’t afford it, not on top of the debt from the restaurant.”
“I can’t believe they hiked up the interest,” Jaylyn snapped. “How can they do that?”
“I don’t know, but it’s legal. We had our own lawyer check. Our savings will last us a few more months, but we might have to consider selling the house this summer.” Mariah covered her mouth with a shaking hand and turned away from Jaylyn. She rushed to comfort her mother as she sobbed, trying to muffle her cries so Darien wouldn’t hear. Jaylyn held her tightly. Her mother had a breakdown once a week now, terrified for Darien and for herself and Jaylyn, too. She told her daughter to move away and find a life for herself before she was dragged down with them, but she wasn’t going anywhere.
“I’ll find a new job,” she promised her mom. “I’ll make some money and you can use it to pay whatever you need. I can forbear my loans for a while and it’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”
Mariah wiped at her face with the sleeve of her robe. “You certainly inherited your dad’s optimism,” she said, cupping her daughter’s face and kissing her forehead.
“Someone has to stay positive around here. Why don’t you get some sleep?”
“I can’t sleep.”
“Lie down on the couch for a few minutes, please? If
Dad needs anything, I’m right here.”
She guided her mom to the tiny living room and made her lie down. She covered her with a heavy quilt to beat back the cold from the February day and watched as her eyes closed. Within seconds, she was asleep. Jaylyn tiptoed back to the kitchen and continued to skim through the wanted ads in the paper. She tried job searching online the other day, but her and computers didn’t get along so she settled with the old fashion way of job hunting. Every morning had been the same since she left Jaybird’s. Get her coffee, grab the morning paper, and hunt for a job—any job.
Nearly a month had passed and she was beginning to lose hope that she would be able to find a new job. She gulped her coffee and spat it back out just as fast when a name caught her eye.
“What the fuck?” She picked up the paper, shaking it out and held it close to her eyes. “’Walker Allard residence seeking in-home chef. High pay, benefits. Must be flexible with recipes and understanding specific dietary needs. Please call Douglas Mansford for more details and to request an interview.’”
Jaylyn dropped the paper on the table. No, she couldn’t possibly go to work for the son of that asshole, could she? Would he even hire her? Hell, he might not even realize who she was. She tapped her nails on the table as ideas formed in her mind. She could get hired and prove to him what a great chef she was, how well she could run a kitchen. If she played her cards right, there was a chance he would let her go back to Jaybird’s and maybe…maybe she could fight to regain partial ownership of the restaurant. Walker couldn’t be as bad as his father.
That was her hope when she picked up the cordless and called Douglas Mansford for an interview. “Hi, yes,” she said when he picked up on the first ring. “I’m calling about the ad in the paper?”
“I’m happy to hear it. Would you be available to come in this morning? In two hours?”
Jaylyn looked at her pajama-clad body. “Two hours would be fine. I need an address, though, and don’t you need to know my name?”
“I judge a cook by his food, not his name—or hers, in this situation.”
She had no clue what to expect from Walker Allard, but Douglas sounded pleasant enough. He told her the address and she jotted it down. “Do I need to bring anything with me? A resume maybe?”
“Simply your ability to cook anything I request. I have everything you will need here.”
“Great. I’ll see you soon. Thanks!”
As she rushed to the bathroom to take a quick shower, she texted Hannah to see if she could swing by the house and stay with her mom for a few hours. Her friend replied saying she’d be there in twenty and Jaylyn said she owed her. After a two-minute shower, she pulled her hair back in a thick braid, started to pull on her dressy black slacks and blouse, but stopped. If she would be cooking, she would wear what she was comfortable in. She found her lucky jeans with a few tiny holes in the knees and pulled on a t-shirt under her chef’s jacket. She slipped into her coat as Hannah’s Bug pulled up out front.
“Thank you,” Jaylyn said when she was outside.
“What’s going on?”
“Interview. I’ll give you the details later!” She kissed her on the cheek, jumped into her truck, and high-tailed it towards the address Douglas gave her. She arrived a half hour early and sat outside the residence, looking at the mansion from the street. “Shit, he lives here?”
The house could fit five of hers easily. She considered waiting but didn’t want the cops called on someone looking like she was casing the house, so she pulled up the long drive and parked. The mansion was surrounded by trees and acres of open lawns and gardens that led into the woods. Never in her lifetime could she afford to own a place like this. Self-consciously, she smoothed her hands down her coat and dragged her purse higher up her shoulder.
“You can do this. You ran the kitchen at one of the best restaurants in the state. You can certainly cook for one person, no matter what his special dietary needs.”
She huddled in her coat against the gusting, freezing wind and knocked hard on the front door when she reached it. Dogs barked behind it and she smiled. She loved dogs, but she was never home so she didn’t have one of her own. She bounced from one booted foot to the other, wondering if she was too early and no one was home. The lock clicked and the door opened to reveal a man with greying hair and a kind smile dressed in an impeccable suit. Behind him were three large dogs sitting expectantly, tails wagging. The man gave her an odd look, glancing back at the three dogs then back at her. Jaylyn worried something was wrong, but he smiled at her.
“Ah, you must be the chef who called this morning,” he said and held out his hand. “I’m Douglas. Welcome to Walker Allard’s home.”
“Thanks.” She shook his hand. “Do you want to know my name yet?”
“No. I would like to see you cook.” He stepped aside and she moved gratefully into the warm house. He took her coat and purse, hanging them on a rack by the front door, and guided her through the house. The dogs followed, sniffing closely at her legs. Douglas tried to shoo them away, but she shook her head.
“No, it’s fine,” she said, holding out her hands for them to sniff. “I love dogs.”
“And they appear to like you as well. Interesting.”
“Do they not normally like people?” she asked, confused, as they licked her hands.
“It depends on the person, it seems. As long as you don’t mind having three shadows, we’ll continue our tour.”
Her head fell back in awe as she took in the beautiful hardwood floors, stone and brick accented walls, and the windows at the rear of the house opening out to the backyard. A grand staircase was set off to the right, leading up to a landing before it turned.
“This place is incredible,” she whispered, hurrying to catch up to Douglas.
“Yes, it is quite impressive, but I believe your favorite room is just ahead.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant until he pushed through a swinging door and she saw the state of the art, gourmet kitchen beyond. “Holy shit. I’m sorry,” she rambled as he laughed. “I just… wow. I’ve only seen a kitchen this nice at the restaurants I’ve worked in.”
“Please, look around.”
She moved slowly around the perimeter of the room, running her hands over the stainless-steel fridge, the double oven, and the gas ranges on the island. She opened a few cabinets after Douglas motioned for her to go ahead, and a few moments, she admired the cooking and dishware filling every cabinet. The pantry was as big as her bedroom at her parents’ house.
“This is incredible. Why is he looking for another chef?” she asked, stepping back out.
“I’m afraid Mr. Allard has guests quite often,” Douglas explained. “Each one has certain…expectations when it comes to their meals, and the past few chefs have found it difficult to…well, to be honest to not go a little crazy.”
“Who does he have over?”
“That is something you will find out if you’re given the position.”
“Fair enough. What would you like me to cook?”
Douglas bowed his head to her and simply said, “Impress me. You may use whatever is here.”
Jaylyn wracked her mind with what to fix for this man with a smooth accent who worked for the man who destroyed her life and that of her family. She pulled a purple bandanna from her pocket and used it to keep any loose hair out of her face and moved to the freezer. She was from Kansas. She would show this man exactly what that meant.
An hour later, she laid out an appetizer of lightly fried pickles with an aioli sauce and a beautiful personal recipe of a single serve meatloaf topped with barbeque sauce, potatoes, and carrots. The lemon blueberry muffins were about to come out of the oven. She stood back from the island as Douglas walked around, examining the food.
“Where are you originally from?” he asked, picking up a pickle to dip it in the sauce.
“Mid-west. Around Kansas and Missouri,” she said. The oven timer dinged and she went to pull out the muffins
.
“These are fantastic,” he mused.
“Thanks.” She tossed the hot pads down and watched as he moved to the meatloaf.
“Most of these I’ve tried are always too dry,” he warned as he dug his fork in. Jaylyn nodded in agreement, but she wasn’t worried. His eyes closed and he mumbled under his breath as he ate the forkful and went for a second one. “But I must say, this is the best one I have ever tasted.”
She plated a muffin next and slid it over. “How about a little dessert?”
“I don’t even have to try it to tell you my decision,” he informed her with a smile but picked up the muffin anyway. “Now, I will ask for your name.”
Jaylyn hesitated for a split second, but she was doing this for a reason. “Jaylyn Wilson.”
Douglas set the muffin down and wiped his hands on a towel. “Well, Ms. Wilson, it is my pleasure to offer you a job. Your work schedule would be five days a week, unless you desire to be here on weekends, and the salary will be more than adequate, I can assure you. Say around eighty-thousand to start? Will you accept?”
If he knew who she was, he didn’t show it. The salary shocked her for a moment, but she’d be a fool to turn it down. “Yes, yes, I will. Thank you so much.” She beamed, bouncing a little on her feet. The dogs, who had sat patiently sat beside Douglas the entire time, bounded to her side so she could pet them.
He grinned. “You will do well here, I believe. Can you start tonight?”
“That will work fine with me.”
“Good, then after I finish devouring this delicious food, I’ll give you an official tour of the main floor of the house and go over what’s expected of you, and Mr. Allard will be thrilled he won’t have to suffer through another night of my horrendous cooking,” he teased.
“I’m happy I can be of assistance.” She would have to bring some of her recipe books here so she could be sure to really impress Walker Allard. This was her chance and she wouldn’t blow it.
5
Walker finished his meal—the best one he’d had in months—and sat back in his chair. “I have to hand it to you, Douglas, you found a good one this time.”