Dreams Collide: Collide Series Book 2

by Kristina Beck

  A glass topples over on our table. “Shit. First spill of the night. I hope it was my water and not my champagne,” Lisa mumbles while laughing.

  “Everyone ready?” Matt asks loudly.

  Some say yes. Some hoot and holler.

  I cringe as memories come flooding back from the time when Larissa put the blindfold over my eyes. I imagine I’m in that room right now, but then I’m happily distracted by Lisa’s giggles and Alexa swearing like a drunken sailor every two seconds.

  I’m adjusted to the darkness, so I proceed to carefully feel around for my silverware and figure out where my water and champagne are.

  It’s eerie how I can clearly hear the other guests. A couple of women worry they’re going to ruin their clothes. Someone says they’re scared of the dark. Why are they here then? Dishes clatter in the kitchen as one loud male voice yells commands. There’s something familiar about the voice.

  “The servers are now bringing the dishes. Please be careful, and sit still until you are served,” Matt instructs.

  “I’m afraid to move. He makes it sound so scary,” Alexa mumbles. “I just want to eat.”

  A breeze tickles my neck as a server passes behind me and places our plates on the table. A slight scraping of a plate alerts me. “Bon appetite,” says the happy server.

  “Take it slow, and enjoy the process,” Matt says.

  The only thing I can think of is Number One’s kiss and how he tasted and smelled. Nothing will beat that experience. But I need to focus on the food and not about what happened after the kiss. No need to ruin my evening.

  I lean my head down to smell the food first. It doesn’t have a strong smell, but I believe it’s meat. “I don’t think it’s fish,” I say to anyone who wants to listen.

  “I’d have to say something with meat. Isn’t France known for pâté?” James adds. “But what do I know?”

  “Well, I hope it’s not liver or snails. The thought of it gives me the willies,” Alexa groans.

  “Let’s feel around and see if we need our forks.” I hear shuffling of silverware.

  My fingers trace the rough, peaked edges of three different pieces. Each one is about the size of my palm. My mind processes what my fingers connect with. The first guess is a slice of toasted baguette. The lumpy substance spread on the top sticks to my finger like paste. Then I feel a chilled compote of some kind. I bring my finger to my nose. It smells fruity.

  “I’m eating it with my hands. I don’t care if I make a mess.” Without hesitation, I bite into it.

  Crunching, moans and compliments circulate throughout the cellar.

  “Ooooh. This is delicious. If this is what’s considered pâté, I love it.” My voice rises in excitement as I wiggle in my seat. “The fruity mixture complements it with a tangy sweetness. I think it’s apricot. The crisp bread is perfectly toasted and buttery.” I munch on the next piece.

  “It tastes like pork,” Lisa adds with less enthusiasm.

  She never enjoys food like I do.

  “I never thought I’d say something tickles my taste buds, but this dish definitely does,” says Alexa. “I like the chef even more…”

  “That’s what we like to hear,” interrupts Matt.

  I twitch in response, as if his mouth is right next to my ear.

  “Matt, you scared them. Behave,” says Kayla at the table next to ours. Matt and Kayla aren’t blindfolded.

  “Sorry, baby.”

  Kissing noises fill my ears. I’m so envious. Will I ever have that?

  “It looks like everyone’s finished with the first course. I hope you enjoyed it. The servers are ready to take the dishes away. Again, be careful,” Matt emphasizes.

  “Keep your blindfolds on. The hors d’oeuvre you just ate was a type of pâté called pork rillettes with pickled dried apricots,” Kayla explains.

  “Ha! I was right. I said apricots. Now I can say I’ve eaten pâté.”

  Over the next thirty minutes, we’re fed two luscious dishes. After we finish, Matt explains one dish was juicy beef roulade with a succulent red wine sauce. I never ate beef that melted in my mouth like that. The other dish was a tasty lamb extravaganza, but I didn’t care for the consistency of the meat. The beef gets my vote.

  “Now it’s time for the finale. Again, this won’t be served at the wedding, but I’m sure you’ll love this dessert. It’s one of my favorites,” Matt says.

  I hope this is a dessert I’ve never tried before. The scraping of a dish grabs my attention again. I’m cautious while touching this course just in case it’s liquid or ice cream. My fingers glide over the slightly peaked surface. It’s pretty large. There’s a powdery substance on top. I rub my fingers together and then lick one. Powdered sugar. I inspect every angle until one of my fingers comes in contact with a fluffy cream sandwiched between two pastry-like layers. I imagine a huge cream puff. I taste the cream on my finger. It’s light and airy. My first thought is a delicious vanilla cloud.

  My fingers skim the bottom of the cream puff and touch a smooth, warm liquid or sauce. I dab my finger on my tongue and melt when I taste bittersweet dark chocolate sauce. I moan in delight. I haven’t taken a bite yet, but I’m already in love.

  I have no idea how to eat this. Like a sandwich or with a fork and knife? Searching for my fork, my hand brushes against something else on my plate. Stemmed bundles of smooth tiny balls lay in my hand. Berries of some sort. I lift them to my nose. They don’t smell like anything. I pluck two of them and lay them carefully on my tongue. They burst in my mouth as I suck on them, leaving a sour sizzling twang on my tongue. I pucker in response. “Wow, these berries are sour.” There are pits inside, which I take out of my mouth with my fingers. I hate pits in fruit.

  The tartness makes my lips and tongue tingle and burn. I search for my water and take a big gulp. The burning sensation intensifies. I drink some more, but it doesn’t help. This is more than being sour. I think I’m allergic. I begin to panic and automatically swiftly move my hands around, knocking over glasses. “Something’s wrong with me. My lips and tongue are burning and swelling. Maybe I’m having an allergic reaction to these berries. I don’t know what they are. I’m sorry. I need to take my blindfold off.” My hands shake with fear as my stomach turns.

  I pull my blindfold off, as do the others.

  James’s eyes bulge out of his head. “Holy shit, Tina.” He jumps out of his chair and is at my side before I can blink. I push my chair away from the table. Some other guests rush over and surround me.

  Kayla stands up and yells, “Gerry. Please come out of the kitchen. Hurry.”

  Gerry?

  I hear quick footsteps stomping toward our table. “What’s the matter, Kayla?”

  There’s no fucking way. I don’t want to turn around because I already know it’s him. My stomach twists like a screw. He walks quickly around the table, and our eyes meet.

  He does a double take. “Tina?” he says in utter surprise. He rushes to my side and takes hold of my hand.

  “Gerry? What are you…” I try to ask, but my lips and tongue continue to increase in size. Spit comes out of my mouth more than words. I grab my napkin and cover my mouth with it. “Don’t look at me.” I turn away as tears gather in my eyes.

  “He’s Mr. Clean?” Alexa’s voice reaches a high octave.

  I shoot daggers at her. She pulls back instantly.

  Lisa’s head darts to Alexa. “Mr. Clean?”

  Matt cuts in. “Gerry, you know Tina? How?”

  “Can we please focus on Tina? She’s having an allergic reaction to the food,” James, the doctor, yells.

  Pure silence controls the room.

  Gerry looks into my eyes. “Yes. I’m the chef.” He directs his response toward me, not the entire group.

  James interrupts. “Are you having trouble breathing? Does your throat itch? Does your stomach hurt?” he asks. “Your eyes are tearing. Do they itch?”

  “My eyes are tearing out of embarrassment, not the berries,
” I sputter. “It’s just my tongue and lips,” I lisp.

  “Do you have any allergies?”

  I nod and point to the berries.

  “They’re called currants,” Gerry says.

  “Shit, I don’t have medicine on me,” James exclaims. He swerves around to face everyone. “Does anyone have antihistamines?” No one speaks up.

  Of course, no one has anything. “You need to go to the hospital immediately to get some medicine, or at least to a pharmacy. Sometimes a food allergy can worsen within twenty-four hours after you ingest the food. I can take you.” James stands up.

  I pull my hand away from Gerry’s. “No. Alexa.” I elbow Alexa.

  She grabs my hand. “Yes, I’ll take her. There’s a hospital not too far from here.”

  Gerry steps back as I stand up.

  Alexa looks at Lisa and James. “Don’t worry. She’ll be fine. I’ll call you later with an update. You need to get the train back to Jersey.”

  Lisa gives me a comforting hug. “Call us as soon as you can to let us know what’s happening.”

  I nod.

  Gerry tugs on my arm. “Let me go with you. I’m worried.”

  I shake my head. His shoulders slump.

  “Fine. Let me walk you out then.” He waits for us to move ahead of him.

  We sprint up the stairs. Behind us, Lisa questions, “Alexa, are you sure there’s a hospital nearby?”

  She nods as we walk out the door. Her car lights flash as she unlocks the doors.

  “Are you going to St. Michael’s Hospital?” Gerry asks.

  “Yes. It’s only five minutes from here, and the traffic is quiet this time of night. I’ll take good care of her. Thanks for tonight. The food was delicious.” Alexa walks around to the driver’s side of the car.

  Gerry opens the car door for me. I slide into my seat and twist toward him, my mouth always covered by my hand.

  He bends down. “I’m so sorry.” His eyes filled with concern.

  One tear tries to tip over, but I force it back just like I always do. I say as clear as possible with my swollen lips and tongue, “I said one more time, and I’m off the project. You know what this means.” I pivot in my seat and grab the door handle.

  He steps away. “Tina. Please don’t.”

  “We need to go,” Alexa urges.

  I close the door before he can say another word.

  Alexa speeds away as I watch him in the side mirror. His back is slouched, and his head is in his hands. I lean my head back on the seat and try to dissect what just happened. Every emotion shoots to my pulsating lips and tongue. Anger, sadness, disappointment, and embarrassment. Whichever the combination is, I can’t stand it and want to hit something hard with a bat.

  I open the overhead mirror but hesitate to look at myself. I’m scared to see how hideous I look. It’ll only increase my embarrassment. I open my eyes and wince. “I look like a fish that lives in radiated water. How can my lips expand like this without exploding?”

  “Stop talking. It’s hard to understand you. We’ll be at the hospital in a minute. How are you holding up? You aren’t having trouble breathing, right? As long as you can breathe, I think you’ll be fine.” She taps my arm in sympathy.

  My swollen lips and tongue aren’t the problem. I can’t believe Gerry is a famous chef. He knows Matt and is Kayla’s cousin. What are the odds? He’s not only my client but a friend of the family. There’s no way I can avoid him now. This makes it worse. There’s only one way out of this.

  I need to get off this project. It’s all too much for me. We don’t have a normal business relationship. It’s even more complicated now with the connection to Matt. I wish I could talk to Alexa, but I can’t speak.

  “Gerry’s definitely a hottie. Especially in that black chef uniform. Good for you. I didn’t know how to read his face when he saw you. He was shocked, but his eyes lit up until he realized you were swelling up like a tick. Panic took over then. He’s definitely got the hots for you—I don’t care what you say.”

  I grunt in response. First, I need to get this allergy taken care of, and then I’ll worry about him. It’s clear there’s something between us. The question is, what am I going to do about it?

  Chapter 7

  Gerry

  I stomp over to Matt. “How do you know Tina?” I’m angry, but I don’t know if it’s toward Matt, myself, or the damn currants. They have nothing to do with this.

  He looks at me, perplexed. He gestures toward a woman. “This is Lisa. She’s Tina’s sister and James’s wife.”

  I look at Lisa. It’s hard to believe they’re sisters. She’s short, has light-brown hair and big blue eyes. Complete opposite of Tina.

  I scrub my hands up and down my face, ignoring the fact we’re surrounded by an audience. Maybe I need a necklace to yank on.

  “The question now is, how do you know her?” needles Kayla.

  James and Lisa inch closer with obvious curiosity.

  “I hired the company she works for to create a new website for my restaurant. She’s the project manager. I never told her I’m a chef. It never came up, since we just met. We were both caught off guard just now.”

  “What a coincidence,” Lisa comments. “No wonder she acted the way she did when she saw you. But…why did Alexa call you Mr. Clean?”

  A couple of guests behind her laugh. I’m not sure I want to know.

  “Matt, can I talk to you in the kitchen? Alone. It’s important,” I say.

  “Yeah. Sure.” He turns to Kayla, Lisa, and James. “We’ll be right back.” He rests a palm on Kayla’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s time the guests leave and you add up their votes for the main dish.”

  She nods and walks over to one of the tables.

  I move swiftly to the kitchen, with Matt trailing behind me. The crew is busy cleaning the dishes and wiping down the stainless-steel counters.

  Matt leans against the counter and crosses his arms. “So what’s up with you, man? James confirmed Tina will be fine. It’s not your fault she had a reaction.”

  “I know but I can’t help worrying about her,” I say as I pace back and forth while pulling a dish towel through my hand. “But that’s not what I want to talk about.” I take a couple of deep breaths.

  “Was it harder than you thought to cook tonight? I know you haven’t done it in a while.”

  “Actually, it felt pretty damn good, but that’s not why I’m upset.” I stop pacing. “Do you remember the story I told you about how I came up with the blindfolded taste-test idea?”

  A smile grows on his face. “Yes. The kissing game at Kayla’s brother’s frat party.” He lets out a laugh. “Why are you bringing this up now? Did she have an allergic reaction to your kiss?”

  I flick a rat’s tail on his arm with my towel.

  “Ow! What the hell is your problem?” His voice rises as he massages his arm. “You’re acting like a fucking lunatic. What has you so pissed off?”

  “I’m trying to tell you. Can you please be serious now?” I push up my sleeves.

  “Sorry. Yes. But can you take your anger out on the dishes or pots, not me?”

  I throw the towel on the counter. “Tina is the girl I kissed. My muse.”

  His eyes go wide. “What? No way. That can’t be possible.” He pulls his hands through his hair. “How do you even remember what she looks like?”

  I put my finger over my mouth. “Keep your voice down.” With good timing, one of my cooks drops a lid from a pot on the floor.

  “Please wash it again,” I yell to the cook. He sighs and puts it back in the sink.

  “I recognized her instantly. She looks even more attractive now.” I stuff my hands in my pockets.

  “I can’t believe it’s Tina. Of all people. Are you sure? This is something you don’t screw around with.”

  “One hundred fifty percent,” I declare.

  Matt throws his hands up. “Wait. Does she know you were one of the guys?” Now he starts pacing.


  “I don’t think so. She gives me no reason to think she does. But how would she? She never saw me after we kissed. I took off before she could. She only saw me once from a distance before the game. I’ve changed since then. I had more hair and was thinner.” I stroke my shaved head with my hand.

  Matt laughs. “I know what you mean. Becoming a chef doesn’t help us stay thin, does it?” He pats his big stomach.

  “Speak for yourself. At least I work out when I can.”

  “Back to Tina. Now you’re working together and are both connected to me. That’s just bizarre in itself. How’s your business relationship?”

  “We’ve had some really awkward moments. I’m more attracted to her now than I was all those years ago. I think she feels the same. Now there’s no avoiding each other. To top it off, she told me outside she wants to be pulled off the project.” I massage the back of my neck with both hands to relieve the stiffness.

  Kayla walks into the kitchen. “Matt, it’s getting late. James and Lisa need to get the next train out. We also have that large pastry order that needs to be ready by nine tomorrow morning.”

  He kisses her forehead. “No problem, babe. Just give us one more minute.”

  She smiles and leaves the kitchen.

  To occupy my nervous hands, I polish one of the already sparkling stainless-steel counters. “Thanks for listening. Please don’t tell anyone who Tina is. Not even Kayla. I’ll need to tell Tina at some point. I want her to hear it from me. Only a couple of people know the full story of how I came up with the blindfold thing.”

  “You got it, man. My lips are sealed. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.” We fist bump. “Good luck. Don’t wait too long to tell her. It’ll only make things worse. She might not be happy when she finds out who you are.” He turns to walk out but steps back in. “But then again, maybe she won’t care. It was only a college game.”

  I salute him. “Thanks. Talk to you soon. Sorry about the interruption tonight.”