He walked to the center of the kitchen and clapped his hands together. We gathered around him, as was our daily routine, and waited for instructions.
Usually I tolerated his pep talks and suffered through his reprimands. He didn’t detail everything that was expected of us tonight, but he also took the opportunity to critique our previous night’s performance. And Wyatt could come across harshly.
Killian too. But Killian was also such a legend that it somehow made it more tolerable. Wyatt brought out the worst in me—which was probably why we clashed so often. Also, because he was nitpicky and severe. The rational side of my brain argued that he was still making a name for himself and therefore had to be those things. He was still trying to prove himself.
But I rarely listened to the rational part of my brain. Mostly, I told her to shut up so the bitchy side of me could play.
Today was different though. Wyatt stood in the middle of us and I could see how exhausted he was, the toll the job had started to take on him. His eyes were bloodshot and sunken. His face seemed thinner and haunted. His hands had a tremor that I hadn’t noticed until after he’d confessed his insomnia and I’d looked closer at him.
My heart lurched in sympathy. I was literally always annoyed with how hard he was trying. I found his efforts to live up to Killian obnoxious and tedious, especially when he blamed mistakes on me. But maybe my criticism of him wasn’t fair.
Wyatt was given the chance of a lifetime. He ran one of the best kitchens in the region, an award-winning kitchen that he’d earned by right of being Killian’s second in command. Of course, the weight of his burden would be heavy, of course he would struggle to hold it and carry it and live up to it.
I resolved to treat him with more grace in the future. He had a hard job, and someday, hopefully when I stepped into a similar position in my own kitchen, my staff would treat me with grace as well.
Seven hours later during the middle of service, I felt differently.
“What is this?” he demanded in the same tone I imagined the devil used when his evil minions disappointed him. “This is crap, Kaya! You’re better than this. Do it again.”
“It’s fucking perfect, Wyatt. You’re wrong.”
“It’s too dark. It looks burned to hell. I’m not sending it out.”
I swallowed thirty synonyms for asshole and decided this was not the fight I wanted to lose my career over. But he was an asshole!
“That’s golden brown,” I argued, waving my hand at the duck breast I’d pan seared to perfection.
“It’s overcooked,” he growled. “Our tables deserve better. Do it again.”
Cognizant of the entire kitchen watching our exchange, I leaned forward and dropped my voice. “You asked for my help tonight. Remember?”
He dipped his head down, crowding me with the entirety of his body. “That’s why I need you to do it again,” he snarled. “I would do it myself if I fucking could.”
The world disappeared behind a curtain of red and all I saw was this arrogant chef I wanted to kick in the shins. I opened my mouth to scream at him, but he pressed his hand against my lips before I could make a sound. Ignoring the hate lasers I was shooting out of my eyes, he leaned even closer, dropped his voice to a whisper and pleaded, “Please, Kaya.”
It was the stupid please that disarmed me. And the matching tremor of his voice and hand. Son of a bitch. I hated this man, I reminded myself. He annoyed the ever-loving hell out of me and treated me like I was less than. The duck was fucking perfect, but he’d said please, so I would reluctantly redo my perfect duck. Goddamn him.
But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to fight back. Faster than I could talk myself out of it, I opened my mouth and bit his fingers. He pulled back, shaking them out. Our shocked expressions had to mimic each other.
Oh, my god. I just bit my boss!
I turned around to run away, possibly out of the building altogether, maybe even the city, when his hand at my waist stopped me. His mouth moved next to my ear and I felt his lips brush against the sensitive flesh of my earlobe.
His words were steel, gritty, deadly serious, but I could barely focus on them with the press of his hot hand against my waist and his impossibly soft lips against my ear. “Careful, Ky,” he warned in a deep, throaty voice. “I bite back.”
He let me go or I escaped, I would never know which of us moved first. But we sprang apart like cymbals after they’d crashed together in a symphony-ending crescendo and staunchly ignored the open-mouth staring of our coworkers. I doubted they’d overheard him whispering in my ear, but they saw it happen.
The next time I brought him the duck breast it was unarguably perfect.
He didn’t comment. And I didn’t comment. And the duck went out and the diner didn’t comment. At least not negatively.
I was determined to totally focus on my job for the rest of the night and completely forget about the weirdly hot moment between us in the middle of the kitchen and the frantic butterflies still swarming around in my stomach.
My resolve lasted for all of twenty minutes when he found a problem with my filet. I decided that I was safe to hate him all over again.
Chapter Five
A week later, an incessant buzzing woke me from the deepest sleep. I groped the other side of my gigantic bed in search of it. The last remnants of my dream flickered in and out of my consciousness. Fingers in my mouth. Biting, but not in a mean way… A hand at my waist… under my shirt… sliding up toward my breasts… then changing direction and heading to an even better place…
The buzzing stopped and started again. I woke up all the way this time realizing the vibration was my cell phone.
Growling at the king-size bed that seemed a little ridiculous for a single girl, I finally cracked open my eyes and found the damn thing buried in my pillows. I’d forgotten to charge it. Crap.
That’s what I got for falling asleep reading on my Kindle app. This bed was one of my few big indulgences. I was a wild sleeper and sometimes even this king didn’t feel big enough. But I preferred to fall asleep in the very center and unfortunately my charging cord didn’t reach this far.
Hopefully whoever had decided to disturb me at the ungodly hour of eight-thirty in the morning didn’t need more than eleven percent of my cell battery to convey their message.
“Hello?” I asked, sounding like an eighty-year-old chain smoker.
“Uh, can I speak to Kaya, please?”
The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but since coffee wasn’t in play yet my brain wasn’t up to the task of figuring out who it belonged to. “This is her.”
“Oh my God, Kaya?”
“Uh, yes.”
The voice burst into laughter. “I thought you were a man! Did I wake you up?”
I pushed up on my elbow and tried to decode what was happening on the other end of the phone. “Yeah, you did wake me up.” I yawned, opening my mouth as widely as humanly possible and asked, “What guy?”
“I’m so sorry, but I seriously thought a man had answered the phone. Like maybe you had an overnight guest and he’d answered your phone.”
Not an awesome way to start a Friday morning. “Who is this?”
“Vera.”
Vera? Why was Vera calling me? More importantly, why was she waking me up with insults?
I yawned again.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t realize it was so early. Between taking shifts at Sarita and working to open our restaurant, I literally never know what time it is anymore. Unfortunately, I’m awake all the time.”
“That sounds rough.” I did my best to sound sympathetic, but I didn’t know if I pulled it off.
“And you don’t sound like a man,” she added quickly. “Your morning voice just surprised me.”
Clearing my throat, I gave her a break. “No, I get it. I have the worst morning voice.” And morning breath come to think of it. I stretched my legs, pointing my toes and working out the kinks in my muscles from last night�
�s late shift.
“I do too,” she said quickly. “I blame the kitchen. All those flames and smoked meat. It can’t be good for us.”
She was right about that. Not that either of us would even entertain the idea of changing careers. “I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but why did you call?” As lovely as it was to chat with Vera, a person I barely knew, I really had to pee.
“Oh, right! I was wondering if you would like some lessons.”
“Lessons?”
“Like in the kitchen?” she asked, confidently.
Again, she was insulting me. Only it didn’t sound like Vera realized it. Was she offering to teach me how to cook? “I don’t know what you mean…”
She laughed again, and the sound relaxed some of my bristling back. “Can you tell I’m operating on zero sleep?”
Her question made me think of Wyatt and I got the strangest urge to call him and see how he was doing. Then I remembered how obnoxious he was, and my fingers stopped itching. Almost.
“Here’s the deal. Killian and I can’t keep up with Sarita and Salt. We’re doing what we can now as a favor to Ezra while he’s out of town, but I know when he gets back, Killian won’t be able to tell him no. In a surprise turn of events, he feels responsible for Sarita’s downfall because he left Lilou first, and all the other chefs assume it was because he got tired of working for Ezra. Which is kind of true… but we also had this amazing opportunity and we couldn’t say no to our dream anymore. Do you know what I mean? Like we had to go for it or die trying.” There was a thoughtful pause and she added, “We still might die for it.”
It was silent for long enough that I worried she’d fallen asleep on the other end of the line. “I’m still confused.”
“What I’m trying to say,” Vera said slower and I could hear the smile in her voice, “is that I can’t do Sarita anymore. I need to be done with it as soon as possible. Which means Sarita needs a captain. Which means, I’m willing to coach you right into that head chef position if you want my help.”
I sat up fully and picked up my jaw off the bed. “How will you have time to do that?” It was the first question that came to mind and it popped out of my mouth before I could swallow it. I shouldn’t have cared about her schedule or whether this one extra thing in her life was going to burn her out. I should have said, yes please, and buried my conscience in a big hole somewhere.
“Well…” There was a tone to her voice that I was starting to recognize as her mischievous side. “You get nights off, right?”
“Two.” I admitted quickly. “I mean, I used to get two nights off, but lately Wyatt has needed more help than Killian did.”
“We’ll get you those two nights back,” she said decisively. “I mean, off from Lilou. We’ll work together at Sarita. My plan is to have you there enough that eventually you just become the boss, and nobody even realizes we staged a not-so-hostile takeover.”
Vera was officially my hero. “That’s not a bad plan.”
I could hear her smile return to her voice. “I know.”
“I’m more likely to only get one night off though.”
“We can work with one night,” she compromised. “Just make sure Wyatt gives it to you.”
“You’re kind of an evil genius, Vera.”
She laughed. “I know that too.” She seemed to think of something at the last minute and her tone changed completely. “Oh, I forgot to ask if that’s too much for you. I’d like to work with you as much as possible so that means you probably won’t get many nights off. And by that, I mean, you won’t get any nights off.”
Waving my hand in the air, even though she couldn’t see it, I didn’t bother to worry about my nights off or sleeping or the non-existent social life I wasn’t motivated to fix. I could tend to those things later. After Sarita was mine. “I’m used to working every night. It’s not a problem. I can take a day off after I’m the boss.” I rolled my eyes at myself because when I was the boss, my work schedule would get even crazier. “Or when I’m dead.”
“That’s the spirit,” she championed. “You’re awesome, Kaya. This is going to be fun!”
Fun wasn’t the word I would have used for it. But it was an amazing opportunity that I would be a fool to turn down.
“When do we start?” I asked her.
“When’s your next night off?”
I squished my eyes shut and tried to remember. “I think it’s supposed to be Sunday, but I can’t remember if Wyatt asked me to work it or not.”
“Make sure you get it off,” she ordered. “Tell him you have a family obligation or something. Or that you have to fight a zombie outbreak somewhere. I don’t care, just make sure he knows you can’t work.”
“Got it. Zombie outbreak. I’m sure he’ll understand.” The truth was, that might be the only reason he’d understand.
“Oh, and Kaya?”
“Yes?”
“Let’s keep this between us, okay? I’m not totally sure how Ezra would feel if he knew I was interfering this much. I mean, he’ll find out eventually, but the Sarita staff is on board with keeping it hush hush for now. As long as you are?”
“No problem,” I assured her. “I’m not sure Wyatt would be super pleased to find out I was doing whatever it took to get the hell out of his kitchen.”
We laughed together and after confirming our plan and farewells, we hung up. My phone was left with three percent battery and I’d landed the opportunity of a lifetime. That was a pretty amazing start to a Friday.
There was just enough charge left to tap out a quick text to Wyatt that said, Don’t forget I’m on proteins tonight! Also, if there’s a zombie outbreak, I expect paid time off.
He responded immediately. I don’t understand why that would warrant time off? Even zombies need to eat. New menu item, Brains Tartare.
I rolled my eyes at the phone, because only Wyatt would try to keep his job during the undead uprising. This is why you’ll be the first to go.
He texted the zombie emoji and wrote, Then you can finally have my job.
I sent him the emoji of the thumbs up, when what I really wanted was an emoji of the middle finger.
I scooted to the edge of the bed, plugged my phone in and then hightailed it to the bathroom for the whole getting ready thing I was forced to face every morning.
Truth—I didn’t mind waking up. It was when I was forced to move and do obnoxious tasks like take a shower or put on deodorant or wrestle my hair that I could live without.
But I did what I could to maintain my place in civilized society, and by the time I walked out the door with a mug of coffee in my hand, I was only fifteen minutes late and my phone had gotten all the way up to fifty-seven percent. Win-win!
I met Dillon at the side entrance of Lilou and couldn’t contain my smile. I wondered if she’d had anything to do with Vera’s call this morning, but I was too chicken to ask. If she did, I wanted to give her a giant hug and possibly one of my kidneys should she ever need it. If she hadn’t been the one to share my number with her, I didn’t want to spill the beans about our secret project. I trusted Dillon completely, but I didn’t always trust what she was going to say. I wasn’t even sure she always knew what she was going to say before she said it. There were a ton of times I was positive she heard what she said at the exact moment everybody else did.
I loved that about her. And sometimes I was also embarrassed of her. But mostly it was love, love, love between us.
Except when she said things like, “Another day, another opportunity for you to not kill our boss.” She yanked the heavy side door open and we sauntered inside.
“Hey, he starts it.”
Without missing a beat, she said, “Oh, I’m sure he does. If you’d like to get together at snack time, we can discuss it further over Goldfish and juice boxes before you two are excused for recess.”
I gave her a side eye. “Was that a preschool joke?”
“Mmm, more like kindergarten I believe. But seriously, Ky?
He starts it? The only thing Wyatt is starting with you is a fire in your pants.”
The gum I had been chewing lodged itself in my throat and I promptly began choking on it. Bracing my arms against the wall, I dipped my head and coughed enough times to dislodge the murderous piece of Trident. Then I turned my meanest, I-mean-business glare on my friend. “I’m sorry, what?”
She shook her finger at me. “Don’t even try to pretend like there isn’t something kinky happening between you two.”
Kinky? Aw, hell. “That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said. We hate each other.”
She didn’t put up with my surly attitude and turned her head enough that I could see her eye roll. “Oh, yeah. You hate each other real hard.”
Ignoring the suggestive tone, I decided not to punch my best friend in the bicep and take the high road. “I hate you.”
She nudged me with her shoulder. “Only, in reality, that means you love me,” she crooned, grinning ear to ear. “See how confusing that is? You say one thing but mean the other. Maybe Wyatt is having trouble deciphering what you mean too.”
I slowly exhaled and tried desperately not to laugh at her craziness. It would only encourage her. She didn’t need any help from me.
She walked to her station and started prepping her portion of tonight’s service. Thankfully, that ended her bothering me about Wyatt.
Argh.
Although now that I was here, I remembered that I needed to find Wyatt and talk to him privately.
I abandoned my prep work and headed out to find him.
“Where are you going?” Dillon called after me.
Without looking back, I said, “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“He’s in the cooler,” she said in a quieter voice.
“How do you know?”
She nodded at the kitchen clock. “He’s doing inventory.”
Sure enough, it was the right time and day for him to be counting all the things that needed to be refrigerated and order what we didn’t have or more of what required restocking.
The Problem with Him (The Opposites Attract Series Book 3) Page 7