Edge of Glory (Friendship, Texas Book 1)

by Magan Vernon

  "I know it's weird. I look stupid. It's Dana's. I should go change." I turned to head up the stairs, but Jay's hand was on my shoulder before I could.

  "Relax, Lia. You're always so quick to think that I'm criticizing you or that someone is going to. I was just saying it's a different look."

  I didn't know how to answer that but luckily Jay just smiled and pulled me toward his car. "Don't over think it. You look hot as always, so stop giving me a look like you want to stab me."

  "I am not," I scoffed, but made sure to check out my face in the side mirror. I did have a tendency to have resting bitch face, but tried to smile more around Jay. Actually it wasn't that hard to smile. Every time I looked at him, I couldn't help but feel butterflies and just want to smile.

  Jay turned on the car and I closed my door. "So are you going to tell me where we’re going?"

  "Where do you think we're going?" He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye before backing out of the driveway.

  "You can't answer a question with a question. That's cheating."

  "Well, we're going to Dallas. And eating. Somewhere."

  I wrinkled my nose. "Still cheating."

  He took my hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on each knuckle. "I never cheat. Just take a deep breath and enjoy the ride."

  ***

  We pulled into the parking lot of a brick building that looked like a warehouse.

  "Um...I don't think I've ever heard of this place."

  Jay smiled and pulled into a parking spot. "Good. Then you'll be even more surprised."

  I followed him out of the car and to a metal door, which led to a large, stainless steel commercial kitchen, but no one was cooking.

  A few people were milling around, talking to different people in chef hats or white coats.

  "What is this? Are we working for our food?" I whispered.

  "You'll see." He squeezed my hand and I followed him to one of the prep tables where a short lady with a clipboard stood.

  "Morningstar, two," he said, matter-of-factly.

  The lady looked at the clipboard and checked it off, smiling. "Okay. I have you two on the red team with Chef McCoy."

  She put the clipboard on the table and handed us each a red chef's hat and apron.

  "Thanks, ma'am," Jay said, nodding before he put the chef hat and apron on.

  "What is all of this?" I asked.

  "Cooking competition class."

  "A what?"

  He laughed. "I told you I was competitive and you said I was a bad cook, so I found a Groupon for this thing where we get together with other couples, have a private chef, and compete to make a meal."

  I looked around the room, seeing the other people in different colored aprons and hats, gathering with a different chef in a white hat. Then I looked at Jay whose eyes held a mixture of worry and excitement.

  "Oh, we are so kicking their asses," I said.

  Jay laughed. "Hell yeah we are."

  He took my hand and we walked over to where our chef was standing in a red hat and coat.

  "Chef, I'm Jay and this is my girlfriend, Lia."

  "Ah, the swimmer has come to join my team. I hope your skills in the pool transcend to the kitchen," the tattooed chef said in a thick French accent.

  Jay put his arm around me. "I'm not the best at cooking but luckily I brought my girlfriend who assures me that we're going to take out the other team."

  "You are a chef?" Chef McCoy asked.

  "Um, well my parents own a restaurant in the suburbs."

  Chef McCoy smiled. "That’ll work. Let's take down the other teams, Reds."

  We followed Chef McCoy to a large, metal table where a few ingredients sat and behind us were rows of stoves and a few fridges.

  A woman in a suit stepped in front of us and raised her hands until everyone took their places behind different prep tables. There were around six or seven couples, each with a different color hat and apron and their own personal chef. When everyone was quiet, the woman in the suit smiled.

  "Welcome to this month's Creative Cooking Challenge. Each couple has been divided into teams and will work with your own personal chef to create a masterpiece. This month's theme is Texas comfort food. You'll have fifteen minutes to discuss with your chef and then an hour to cook enough for thirty people. When the time is up, we'll sample everyone's dish to choose a winner. Good luck."

  We gathered around our table and looked at Chef McCoy. "Ideas? What do you say, swimming superstar? Any preferences?" Chef McCoy asked.

  "How about migas?" I interrupted.

  Chef McCoy turned toward me, raising a very meticulously shaped eyebrow.

  "Okay, it's not a dinner food, but I'd consider it Tex-Mex comfort food and we could put a new spin on it,” I offered.

  Chef McCoy looked at me for a few minutes before a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Migas it is. I hope your chef skills are as good as the swimmer tells me."

  "Let's hope," I said, sucking in a deep breath.

  Jay laughed. "I'm not even sure I know what that is."

  Chef McCoy shook his head, pulling some ingredients out of a large, metal rack. "Chef Girl, you need to educate your man on Texas cuisine."

  I smiled, turning toward Jay. "It's basically eggs, different peppers, and tortilla strips all fried up then topped with sour cream and salsa or hot sauce. My mom makes it with added garlic, onions, and homemade sugo on top."

  "I like the way you think, Chef Girl," Chef McCoy said, coming back to the table with a carton of eggs, peppers, and cheese.

  I shrugged. "I guess growing up around food is good for something."

  Chef McCoy handed Jay a pepper. "If I have you dice this, will you break something?"

  "I can't promise that," he replied.

  Chef McCoy turned toward me. "I take it you got the brains and the beauty in the relationship?"

  "Uhhhh..."

  Jay put his arm around me. "Relax, Lia. He knows what he's talking about."

  "I assume you know the proper way to cut your vegetables?" Chef McCoy asked, picking up a green pepper.

  "Get a knife and chop?" Jay asked.

  Chef McCoy smirked, shaking his head before he pulled out a cutting board and set it on the table.

  He then pulled out a knife and held up the pepper in one hand. "First we cut off the top then the bottom."

  He sliced both sides off, talking as he worked. "Then we open the pepper to expose the inside and slice out the guts. You see? Now it's flattened and easier to cut into strips."

  "Huh, never thought about it that way," Jay said, picking up the other pepper.

  "Yeah. My mom just kind of cuts it all angry and fast like. She's an angry Sicilian ninja."

  Jay laughed and Chef McCoy shook his head. "You can flirt when we're done cooking."

  "Sometimes I can do more than one thing at a time," Jay said, bumping my shoulder.

  Chef McCoy glared at us like we were two kids talking in class, which just made Jay laugh harder.

  "Okay. We chop up these peppers and fry them in the pan with garlic, olive oil, and onions before we add the eggs," Chef McCoy said.

  "Aye, Aye, Chef," Jay said, doing a mock salute.

  I handed Jay another pepper and grabbed an onion. "If I start crying, it's not because of you."

  "The only time I want to see you cry around me is because of an onion," Jay said, a lazy smile crossing his face.

  "Aren't you two just precious?" Chef McCoy mocked.

  "Don't be jealous, Chef. We can share the love," Jay said.

  "Maybe after you two are finished cooking."

  Jay and I worked side-by-side, cutting and sautéing vegetables. I was used to cooking next to my mother and a lot of arguing in the kitchen. I'd never had a partner to cook with or one that actually asked my opinions, like I was the expert.

  While the vegetables cooked, Jay slowly cracked some eggs into the pan and I started simmering a pot of tomatoes and chilies.

  "What's th
at?" Jay asked.

  "Sugo. Or I guess you would call it spaghetti sauce. I'm using Nonna's recipe, so don't tell her."

  "I'm totally telling her. I’ll learn Italian just for that reason."

  I shook my head but couldn't help but smile. "Italian has so many different versions with slang and the different regions, most of it is such a mix. It’d be hard to learn the right words."

  "Na lingua sula mai abbasta," he said with a very rough Italian accent.

  I dropped my wooden spoon and turned toward him. "Did you just mean to say one language is never enough in Italian?"

  He smiled. "I didn't butcher it too bad, did I? I've been listening to some Rosetta Stone during practice. Scotty ordered these waterproof headphones with an MP3 player and usually I like the silence, but this—"

  I cut off his words by wrapping my arms around him and placing a kiss on his lips. He smiled beneath my mouth but then immediately reciprocated, wrapping his arms around my waist.

  Never had someone gone through this much trouble for me. Cooking classes. Learning Italian. Even putting up with my family. Jay Morningstar was the epitome of perfect and I was afraid of how hard I was falling for him.

  "Okay, break it up you two, you can celebrate after dinner is ready," Chef McCoy said, snapping his fingers.

  I didn't want to ever let go and it seemed like Jay didn't either, because he found ways to have his hand on mine all night. Which would have annoyed me if it were anyone else. But I couldn’t get enough of Jay.

  It wasn’t exactly my finest presentation of Migas, but compared to the other couples and each of their different versions of barbecue, it at least stood out in the crowd.

  All of us had to place our dishes on a long table and then we had to take a sample of everyone’s dish. After we plated our food, all of the couples sat at one table and the chefs sat at another one. Like they were the head table at some bizarre wedding.

  “So our choices are eggs, barbecue, barbecue, or oh, barbecue!” Jay said, raising his fork.

  An older woman with bright blonde hair smirked across the table. “Ha, ha. Okay, you two win for most original.”

  The guy next to her with the very thick hipster beard nudged her arm. “Don’t say that yet. They haven’t tasted our brisket.”

  I took a sharp inhale before picking up the migas with my fork. It was very cheesy, the strands sticking to the plate before I twirled it on the fork and popped it into my mouth.

  A little spicy. A little garlicky. Almost perfect.

  The guy across the table nodded, his eyes widening. “Okay, so maybe you won for most original and best tasting.”

  The woman spit something into her napkin. “Yeah, I don’t think ours is winning for the best taste.”

  I laughed. “I guess we just had a good chef.”

  Jay shook his head. “Don’t be so modest.”

  He looked at the couples around the table. “My girlfriend’s parents own a really good Italian restaurant in Friendship.”

  “Friendship? I’ve never heard of it.” a younger woman asked from the other side of Jay.

  “It’s in the northeast suburbs. About fifteen miles from Rockwall,” Jay replied.

  “What’s the restaurant called?” the guy with her asked.

  “Conti’s,” Jay answered.

  I’d never had the attention on me. I was used to people surrounding Jay, but the more we ate, the more people around the table asked about the migas, the recipe, and where in the hell Friendship, Texas was.

  When we’d finished our food, the woman in the suit came, passing each of us note cards. “Okay, contestants. The judges have scored their favorites. Now it’s your turn. Pick one for most original. One for best tasting. One for overall best in show.”

  I pondered over the note card, while everyone else turned theirs in way too quickly.

  I wanted to pick ours, but I couldn’t just vote for myself. I found it unethical, so I picked some of the random other barbecues and handed my card back to the woman.

  When she had all of the cards, she went back to the judges table.

  “I think we’re going for a trifecta,” Jay whispered, squeezing my knee.

  “Getting very cocky about your cooking, Jay.”

  “There’s a fine line between cockiness and confidence.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the line?”

  “Cockiness is when you show off. Confidence is when you know it’s in the bag and everyone else does. No need to tell the world, they’ll see it.”

  The woman stood in front of the head table and called out, “Contestants, please line up for awards.”

  We all got up from the table and stood in a line, with our chef to the side of us. The woman held up one little gold trophy that looked like a cornucopia. “This is the first time, in all of the years and classes that we’ve had, that a couple has won all three categories.”

  She smiled, turning toward Jay and I. “Jay Morningstar. Rosalia Conti. With Chef McCoy’s help, your migas were a hit!”

  Jay smiled, taking my hand as everyone else smiled and clapped politely while we walked up to the woman and took our trophy.

  I’d never won anything in my life and I felt my entire face light on fire. “Awesome job, babe,” Jay said, kissing my cheek.

  Chef McCoy squeezed both of our shoulders. “Good job, Swimmer. Chef Girl. Can I expect you two to come back and win again?”

  Jay looked at me and I smiled. “I think we might be able to do that.”

  ***

  When we finally left the restaurant, Jay's hands continued to roam, up my leg, my thighs and even briefly grazing my core through my jeans.

  "Jay, if you keep doing that and not focus on the road, you're going to end up in an accident."

  He smiled and put his hand on my knee, squeezing it. "You're probably right..."

  Turning on his signal, he took an exit toward Garland and one of the many parks on the water.

  It was a full moon and the lake was completely lit up in beautiful shades of blue along the wave-less water.

  Jay parked his car in the empty lot, shaded by a few weeping willows.

  "Are we going for a walk?" I asked, my lip trembling.

  Jay put his hand on my chin, turning me toward him before he ran his thumb along my bottom lip. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

  I bit my bottom lip to keep it from shaking.

  Slowly he put his free arm around my waist and pulled me toward him, putting his lips to mine. His kisses were urgent. Full of passion and longing. I sighed into his lips, which caused a moan low in his throat.

  Needing to be closer, to feel his touch, I sucked in a breath and took a chance, sliding over the seat and straddling his lap.

  He grinned, putting his hands on my butt and leaning his seat back. "Now this is a view," he whispered.

  I smiled, leaning over and kissing him again as his hands roamed freely over me. I was lost in the moment. So lost that I didn't notice where my body was and my ass rammed into the steering wheel.

  Not only did it hurt like hell, but also the horn sounded very loudly.

  I sat up and scrambled over to my seat, fixing my hair.

  Jay laughed, shaking his head. "As much as I want to keep going, I don’t want our first time to be us half naked in the backseat. I’d rather take my time and get to know every curve of your body.”

  Holy hell that may have been one of the hottest things a guy had ever said to me. My bottom lip trembled and Jay pushed a strand of hair behind my ear, a lazy smile crossing his face.

  I wanted to say something equally as amazing, but the only thing that was coming to my mind was that I was falling completely and hopelessly in love with this guy. That I wanted to give all of myself to him.

  I opened my mouth, trying to figure out something to say, but shut it as soon as my eyes caught the reflection of a local squad car circling the parking lot.

  "I guess I'd better get you home," Jay muttered before he ad
justed himself and turned the car on, backing out of his spot and waving to the officer.

  I didn't know if I was saddened or relieved, but one thing I knew for sure, Jay Morningstar was dangerous for my body and my heart.

  Chapter 16

  The only times I ever flew were with my family to Sicily. I'd never been on a plane without my parents, especially not a private, chartered plane.

  "So...it’s just us on here?" I looked around the small interior of the plane. There was a white leather sofa at one end with two, plush white chairs facing each other across from it.

  Another set of chairs were on each side of the plane, next to the door to the cockpit. They had small tables in front of them that matched the black chevron floor. It looked like something a celebrity would take to some glamorous location, not for some waitress from Friendship, Texas.

  Jay nodded, tossing his bag on one of the chairs. "Just us and the pilots. My dad's company does a lot of private security for companies in So Cal. Internet security and all that. His clients prefer to fly private and I guess that's what Dad started to like as well. It's the only way I've really ever flown and I have to say, I like it."

  He plopped down on the couch and patted the seat next to him. "We have an almost three hour flight ahead of us, so relax. There won't be any pretzels handed out, but I can make you a drink if you're nervous to fly."

  "Uh...." The last time I drank was at my brother's wedding and I ended up puking red wine all night. That, and with Jay's DUI and other problems, I didn't think it was a good idea for either of us.

  Jay grinned, grabbing my hand and pulling me down on the sofa next to him. "You don't have to have a drink, but you do have to at least breathe."

  "I am breathing."

  He leaned back, sprawling his long, lean body across the sofa as he propped one arm under his head. "If you're going to lie to me, I'm just going to take a nap and ignore you for the next three hours."

  I smacked his side lightly, not that it would have hurt him anyway. The guy had a rock hard body and I think my hand was throbbing more than any part of him was in pain. "Stop it."

  He smiled, looping his arm around my waist and pulling me down to him. I yelped, falling onto him with a big oof.