by Natalie Ann
“This looks like a kitchen to me,” she said, her eyes moving around, her lips twitching.
“The kitchen at Fierce. We won’t always be in this room. We won’t always be in this house. But it can start here, right? A common ground.”
“It could,” she said, moving closer to him again. She reached for him and he held his breath, waiting to see what she’d do. “Will you kiss me first?”
“Gladly, but I guess I need to know why you want a kiss first?”
“Because it’s all in the kiss.”
“You’re going to lay that type of pressure on my shoulders,” he said, laughing and yanking her forward, hard into his chest—praying that he wasn’t dreaming at this moment. That Nic was in his kitchen and just asked him to kiss her. Gave him permission to not just touch, but also taste her.
“I’m pretty sure you can handle just about anything that comes your way.”
“I can,” he said, then lowered his head and touched his lips to hers. Her small hands reached up to his shoulders and around his neck, so he picked her up and sat her butt on the counter, stepping between her legs that she’d spread wide for him. Welcoming him in a way that felt like more than coming home.
At that moment, the taste of her was sweeter than any wine from Italy, richer than any pastry from France, and spicier than any dish from Spain.
She was intoxicating to him, pulling him in and making him want to gorge himself. He’d never gorged himself on anything in his life. Ever.
Sampled? Sure. Tasted? Always. Stuffed himself silly? Never.
But as her tongue dueled with his, he found that he wanted seconds and thirds. He wanted to taste this all morning and into the night.
“Nic?” he asked, pulling back a little. “Tell me if you think I’m pressuring you.” He had to know. Needed her to be on board one hundred percent.
“I asked you to kiss me, Aiden. I think that would be answer enough.” She pulled his head forward and planted another on him, and the two of them stood in his kitchen kissing for who knew how long.
***
Monday morning there was a knock at his door. He wiped his hands on the apron around his waist and went to answer it, not expecting to see his mother.
“What are you doing here so early?” he asked. He couldn’t sleep this morning. Not after spending hours with Nic yesterday. The two of them working side by side. Hands stealing touches in between lessons and knife skills. She was a fast learner and he was enjoying the time alone with her. He hated to take her back home so early, but he had to be at Fierce by three.
“Coming to give you a piece of my mind,” she said, storming past him and into the kitchen where she made herself right at home.
“What did I do?” he asked, trying to figure it out. He couldn’t imagine what punishment his mother could drum up for him this time. That was why he never got in trouble in the first place. Cleaning up a nasty-smelling boat and Cade’s puke was enough for him all those years ago. He’d tried to be the good son after that.
There’d been only one other issue in his life, and no one knew about that but her.
“How could you let your staff start spreading rumors about another one?”
“What are you talking about? Stuff like that happens all the time.” He didn’t know how his mother would be privy to anything that was talked about in the kitchen. Not unless Mason or Brody told her. They better not have, but he wasn’t going to accuse anyone…just yet.
“It does, but you have to have a better handle on it. You just hired her. Don’t you be doing anything to lose her.”
“Nic?” he asked, trying to piece things together.
“Yes, I’m talking about Nic. That poor girl has had a tough enough life as it is. Here she is being given the opportunity of a lifetime to work for you and people have to start running their big ugly mouths.”
“What do you mean by a tough life?”
“Nothing,” his mother said. She walked over and picked up one of the cannoli he was trying to prepare. He didn’t want anyone to know he was replicating it at home. “Not bad,” she said after she took a bite. “Still not as good as Moretti’s.”
“It’s the ricotta. I’ve figured that much out. If I can get that right, then I’ll be good.” He hadn’t wanted to ask Nic for the ricotta recipe specifically. He knew there was a “secret” to it and he knew how much he prided himself on keeping recipes close to his vest.
“Why bother to try when you’ve got Nic to make them for you?”
True. But it was driving him insane that he couldn’t figure it out on his own. “She can do more than make cannoli.”
“That’s good to know. I knew she’d be an asset to Fierce.”
He snorted. His mother wasn’t the best cook and could barely tell you who was. “You handed me her resume after you bragged about her pasta.” He wanted to know how she knew about Nic’s life, but held back for now.
And he wasn’t about to elaborate on any rumors. She could say it first; otherwise his lips were sealed. His mother was too wise for her own good. She’d be able to tell what he was thinking just by the look on his face.
“And she cooked you one of the best dishes you’ve ever had during an interview. Go on, admit it.”
“Fine,” he said. “She did. She knows her Italian flavors like you know the five of us. She could do it in her sleep. She wants to be known for more though.”
“Then teach her. Don’t rely on her teaching you. That’s how rumors get started. Take her out of the kitchen and give her some lessons.”
“Since when do you tell me how to run my kitchen?” he asked. No way was he admitting he was already doing that. Of course if she found out, she’d brag it was her idea. He was kind of screwed either way.
She walked over to the tempered chocolate, dipped her finger in to taste, knowing it would annoy him, then ran the remaining bit on his white counter and backsplash. She was one obnoxious woman.
“You do that crap on purpose.”
“Of course I do. I love getting under your skin. Nothing ruffles your feathers but a mess. You and Mason were always my cool levelheaded ones. It will do you good to lose it once in a while.”
“So you want me to go back into my kitchen and start knocking heads together for spreading rumors? Gossiping? Something that’s been going on for centuries.”
“Of course not. That’d just draw more attention to poor Nic.”
Poor Nic. There it was again.
It sounded like the conversation he’d had with Mason, making him wonder if that was the brother that ratted him out. Then realized Mason always had his back.
“Then what do you suggest?” he asked, humoring her. He had this covered on his own, but he wasn’t about to let her know. The last thing he needed was his mother getting all up in his business. Or in his business more than she already was.
“I don’t know. Like you said, it’s your kitchen. You figure it out.” She grabbed two more cannoli and stormed back out as fast as she came in.
He’d long since given up trying to figure her out. None of them could. It was what made her the best mom ever.
***
“It’s working, Gavin,” Jolene said when she returned home. “Aiden is sniffing out the bait.”
“Nice,” her husband of over thirty-five years said, looking up from the paper he was reading on their back deck in the shade. “I’m not sure I want to know what you’re talking about.”
“Aiden and Nic.” She sat next to him and smirked. “Here, have a cannoli. I grabbed it for you.”
“How many did you eat before you decided I could have one?” he asked.
“Just two.”
“How dirty did you leave Aiden’s kitchen before you left?”
“It’s too fun to resist. I have to do it. You know that.”
“You’re so bad.” He took a bite and closed his eyes. “That boy is a wiz in the kitchen. These are great.”
“Not as good as Moretti’s, but he’s getting th
ere.”
“I don’t taste the difference.”
“Of course you don’t,” she said. “You can’t tell hamburger helper from ground beef and a jar of sauce.”
“That’s because I’ve learned to never mention that to you. Heaven forbid I ever say anything negative about something you’ve made. You might not cook for me again. But that’s beside the point. What’s going on with Aiden?”
“Nic. The new girl. There are rumors going around that Aiden is tasting more than her food.”
“And?” Gavin asked. “Rumors are normally just that. Aiden never mixes work with pleasure. Ever. He’d never do that, which is why I think you’re way off base on this one.”
“I’m telling you, there is always some truth to a rumor.”
“What did he say when you asked him?”
“I didn’t come right out and ask him. You know I’d never be that obvious. He was pretty tight-lipped when I mentioned the rumors and he never is with me. I changed the subject and he let me, like he was trying to hide something. That just proves I’m right. Something is brewing there.”
“I guess only time will tell,” he said.
“Do you believe that, or are you just trying to pacify me?” she asked, leaning over and taking the last bite of the cannoli.
“I want dinner tonight, don’t I?” he said, laughing.
“We could go to Fierce later and get a table in the back and watch the action ourselves.”
“Which is what you wanted to do all along and thought you’d weasel it out of me.”
She kissed him quickly on the lips. “You know me so well.”
Nothing Suspicious
A little before two, Aiden was walking in the back door. He would have been here earlier, but got sidetracked by his mother and her complaints that his cannoli still weren’t up to the Moretti standards.
After she left, he threw out the filling and made another batch of ricotta and was going to let it sit overnight to see if that made a difference or not. Probably not, but he was willing to try anything at this point.
By the time he was finished cleaning his kitchen, then sterilizing it the same way as the kitchen at Fierce, he showered and ran out the door hours later than he planned.
Nic would have started at ten thirty this morning. Gotten there to prep her station, see what was on the menu for the day, and be ready to go when the pub started serving at eleven.
He knew her hours since he still set everyone’s schedule every two weeks. Crazy, he knew that, but he couldn’t seem to let go of the reins enough to hand that over to the manager in the pub kitchen or the restaurant kitchen.
Maybe someday. If anyone in his family ever accused him of not giving up control like they had Brody, then he would. For now, it seemed he was hiding all he did well. He wouldn’t risk them hiring staff behind his back like what happened to Brody in the spring.
That had been all their mother’s doing—filling the manager position in the bar without Brody’s knowledge. When Jolene Fierce gave an order, you followed and didn’t question.
It didn’t matter that she didn’t technically own Fierce anymore. It didn’t matter that she and his father had turned the daily operations over to the five of them.
All that mattered was she was his mom and he did what she said. Or he suffered the consequences of more than her chocolate-smeared fingerprints in his white kitchen.
He needed to play it cool today. He needed to keep his distance from Nic so no one would know he’d had her tight little rear on his kitchen countertop, her legs wrapped around his hips, and her hands in his hair. He couldn’t forget about her mouth devouring his either. No, that wasn’t something he’d forget anytime soon.
What he was trying to do was figure out a way to make it happen again. But it couldn’t be now, not here, and not with so many eyes around. It had to stay in the mental and hide the physical.
He dropped his keys in his office, booted up his computer and checked for any emails and correspondences that he had to address, frowning at one from the Food Network.
A guest spot as a judge? They wanted him? That didn’t make sense.
He read it again, then noticed one of the executives cc’d was someone who mentored him during his internship there.
To this day, he had no clue why he’d chosen that internship. He should have picked one in a restaurant. Should have been working alongside a Michelin star chef. Instead, he’d decided to try his hand at a television network.
Maybe secretly he had plans of going out on his own. Of having his own show. Of not coming back to work for the family business. But he’d never let anyone know that.
His stint at the Food Network killed all those thoughts.
It was probably good it happened the way it did. He wanted things his way, not having some production crew or figurehead tell him what would sell and what to make. What to learn to make to get more viewers. It’s not who he was.
Deep down, he needed to be able to have the freedom to create what came to him and he got that at Fierce. Building the family name into something that was sought after. And if the anonymous food reviewers of Michelin ever decided to rate restaurants in the city of Charlotte, he was going to make sure he made that list.
He’d sit on the email for now. They didn’t need an answer until Friday and he’d have to talk it over with his siblings at the next family meeting anyway.
Once everything was done in his office, he detoured to the pub kitchen. There were people setting up in the restaurant at this point, but his focus was on olive skin, a petite stature, small hands that had been gripping his hair, and lips that were greedily tasting his.
He headed in the opposite direction of all of that though, stopping at the plating station.
“How’s it going today, Stacy?” he asked.
“Going good as always. Been a busy Monday. Busier than most.”
“Really? What’s selling hot?”
“Would you be shocked to know that there have been a lot of cannoli that have gone out after meals today?”
He wasn’t shocked. “How many is a lot?”
“About half of the meals. We never get much dessert ordered in the pub, but putting them on as a combo one day last week got people talking.”
“Good to know,” he said, always thrilled when things worked out like that. “What else is selling hot?”
“Everything is about average at the moment. Nothing really standing out just yet. I’ve heard some good reviews on the chili and since it’s supposed to pour tomorrow, maybe that’d be a good combo,” she suggested.
The bar staff picked the combo for the day, not the kitchen staff, but maybe he’d swing in and see what Brody thought of it. Stacy always had good ideas and he really should start listening to his staff more when it came to things like that.
Rather than make his way through the kitchen, he popped in to see Brody, ran it by him and Aimee, and returned back. “Brody loved the idea, Stacy. Do you mind coming in a little earlier tomorrow and getting it going? I’d say make triple the amount and we’ll go from there. We should prepare since the weather might work in our favor.”
“I’d love to. Thanks for listening to me.”
“Always,” he said, then moved on. He stopped at every station, chatted for a few seconds, trying not to show favoritism to anyone. When he got to the frying station, he saw Nic battering fish and dropping it in, then doing the same with shrimp. It seemed she had her hands full, so he just watched for a second, nodded, and moved on.
There. Nothing suspicious at all.
***
Nic had been watching Aiden under her eyelashes for the past thirty minutes while he made his way around the kitchen talking to staff. He stopped for a minute or so with everyone, said a few words, and then moved on. Nothing different than any other day.
If she watched him more because she was remembering those big hands of his on her waist, gliding over her back, resting on her bare thighs, well, she wasn’t admitting that t
o anyone.
But when he made his way to her, he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even make eye contact with her. Just watched what she was doing, like he didn’t think she could handle frying some seafood, then nodded his head and moved away.
Maybe she got an “A” for cooking today, but he failed in her eyes as a potential boyfriend.
Then again, no one said anything about dating.
Wait, he did. He said he wanted something between them. He wanted to explore something with them. Guess his idea of exploring and hers weren’t the same.
She worked in silence the rest of her shift. When her replacement came in, she cleaned up and took her apron off, grabbed her purse and keys from the locker in the back, and walked the long way to the door—detouring toward the kitchen to catch sight of Aiden doing what Aiden did best. It was almost hypnotizing watching him work, and as much as she wanted to stay and admire, she forced her sore and tired feet to move.
It didn’t matter if she was ticked and…hurt. He was still impressive to watch. His eyes shifted up and rested on hers quickly, seemed to focus for a second, then went back to tossing shrimp in the pan.
When he was in his element, no one could hold a candle to him. Too bad she just got burned.
Several hours later, she heard her phone ring. She looked at the clock and saw it was close to eleven. When she picked up the phone to see who the caller was, she saw it was Aiden and just wanted to send it to voicemail.
She was positive her voice was hoarse. It had to be. She’d cried herself to sleep.
How stupid could she have been?
Why was she letting one kiss bother her this much?
Because he’d led her to believe it was more. Led her to believe that she was special. That maybe what they could have was special. Stupid and naive once again.
Just as her finger was going to press the silence button, she changed her mind. “What?” she said.
“Nic?”
His voice sounded questioning and she didn’t care that the Italian temper she very rarely showed was getting the best of her. He woke her up, he could feel her wrath.