Fifty Recipes For Disaster - Book 1 (Fifty Recipes For Disaster New Adult Romance Series, #1)

by Carla Coxwell

  "Yes," he says. "But that doesn't stop me from wanting to be involved with you."

  "But it will never be the right time," I argue. "It would be inappropriate now. And if I win the apprenticeship, which I plan on doing, it will be inappropriate then, too."

  "Are you attracted to me, Kiara?" he asks. I blush and remain silent. "Come on now," he encourages me, "I laid out all of my cards on the table. You know how I feel. So tell me, do you find me attractive?"

  "Of course I do," I confess.

  "Do you have many friends, Kiara?" he asks softly.

  Again, I feel compelled to be honest with him. "No, I don't have any friends. I thought Jenny and I were getting close, but then something changed."

  "So what would the harm be if we spend some time together, just as friends?" he asks. "This may come as a shock to you, but I don't have many friends either... I have employees. But when I'm away from the restaurant, I'm either alone or babysitting my sister's kids. I think it would be a welcome change to be away from here and enjoy some adult conversation."

  "Just as friends?" I ask hesitantly.

  "Just as friends," he assures me.

  "I guess there'd be no harm in that."

  "Perfect." He smiles. "Would you like to meet me for dinner tomorrow night? It's your day off, and I know a great little hole in the wall Thai place. Then maybe we could get some coffee after and just talk."

  "I'd love to," I answer.

  ***

  I walk through the parking lot of Barton Creek Square, digging for my keys in my purse. I find them at the bottom and push the alert button on my keyless entry remote. I hear the horn of my car blare in the distance and start walking toward the noise. As I walk, I realize that I'd left the mall from a different set of doors than I'd entered. That explains why I lost the damn car. I am filled with relief when I finally set eyes on my twelve-year-old Honda Civic. I climb in and toss my bags in the seat beside me.

  Initially, I'd planned on buying a new top to wear for my evening with Paul. But I'd given in to temptation, and with encouragement from a perky sales clerk, I'd purchased an entire outfit, shoes and all. I pull my new emerald green top from its bag, hold it to my face, and study myself in my rear view mirror. As I hoped, the shade of the fabric complements my skin in the natural light as well as it had under those god awful fluorescents.

  Suddenly I am overcome with sadness. When I was a little girl, my mother always dressed me in emerald green. "It blends in so beautifully with your dark eyes and hair," she'd always say. I toss the shirt back into the bag and shake off the onslaught of emotions. So she knew what color to dress me in. That doesn't make her a good mother. I'm not missing out on anything, living my life without her.

  I pull out of the parking lot and turn right, mindlessly driving toward my apartment. I scold myself for getting emotional over the mother who left me. This always happens before I go out on a date with someone new. I start wondering what my mother would say if she was here. What advice would she give me? Would she curl my hair and tell me stories of the dates she went on when she was my age? I'll never know, so I may as well stop torturing myself.

  With no memory of the drive, I pull into my apartment building. It's a small, charming place in an area that was once the trendiest neighborhood in Austin. The crowds have long since moved on, but the buildings have been well maintained and the neighborhood is still safe. Most importantly, there are no drug dealers in my building. I can spot a dealer from a mile away. I know someone on my floor smokes weed because I sometimes smell it in the hallway, but that doesn't bother me. Hell, I toke up myself sometimes when life gets overwhelming.

  I ride the elevator to the third floor, unlock my door, and step into my cozy home. My furniture is a collection of thrift store finds that I refinished myself, and my walls are covered in bright, abstract floral paintings. I toss my bags onto the sofa and walk to the bathroom. I need a long, hot shower before I get ready for dinner.

  I get the water to the perfect temperature, slink out of my clothes, and step into the tub. The warm water rushes over me, washing away the hurt I feel after thinking about my parents. I decided to focus on the future instead. I let myself fantasize about Paul. As I wash my hair, I imagine us going to the farmers' market on our days off and cooking delicious food together in my kitchen. I wonder what his lips would feel like, pressed against mine, and remember the soft touch of his hand.

  Thinking about Paul in this way turns me on, and I decide to indulge myself. I take my handheld shower head from its cradle and sit down in the tub. I lay back, switch the water stream to massage mode, and point it at my clit. As the water dances over me, I imagine it's Paul's tongue providing the sensations. I pinch my nipples with my free hand and soon I'm rewarded with a soft, satisfying orgasm.

  Better safe than sorry, I think as I stand back up. I reach for my razor and quickly shave my legs. Satisfied that I'm well groomed, I turn off the water, step out of the shower, and wrap myself in a towel. I hear my phone ringing in the other room, and I rush to answer it before voicemail picks it up.

  "Hello?" I ask with a little confusion, because I don't recognize the number displayed on the screen.

  "Kiara? It's Jenny."

  "Hey, Jenny... is everything all right?" I ask.

  "Yes, everything's fine. I just feel awful for the attitude I've been giving you lately. It has nothing to do with you. I just had so much going on lately... I was stressed, and I took it out on the wrong people. I'm so sorry."

  "It's all right," I assure her. "I completely understand."

  "Thank you, Kiara. Do you think we could get together sometime and talk? I could use a friend right now, and I don't know anyone else right now... I'm always so busy with work and school... I'm sure you understand that, too."

  "Absolutely," I agree. "I'm always here if you need to talk. Do you want to meet at the restaurant early in the morning for coffee? Or we could go to the café for lunch again."

  "Would you be able to meet me somewhere tonight?" she asks nervously. "I know it's short notice, but I could use someone to talk to."

  Shit. "I'm so sorry, Jenny. I already made plans this evening... I'm meeting a friend from culinary school. We're going to practice pastries," I lie. "I'd invite you to join us, but I'm going to her house and I'm not sure how she'd feel about it."

  "No, that's okay," Jenny replies quickly. "We can meet for lunch tomorrow."

  I'm filled with guilt and quickly backtrack. "Jenny, if you need me, I can cancel."

  "I'll be okay," she assures me. "Enjoy your time with your friend, and I'll see you tomorrow."

  ***

  Robbs is sitting in front of his oversized flat-screen television watching Monday night football when his phone rings. "Did you talk to her?" he answers, after looking at the name on his screen.

  "Yes, I just hung up with her," Jenny replies. "I also called the restaurant and asked to speak with Paul. Megan said he's taking the day off. Kiara gave me a lame story about having plans with a girl from her school. I'm almost positive they're meeting up tonight."

  "So it's go time?" Robbs has been waiting for this moment since he first shot the video of Jenny and Paul together.

  "It's go time," she agrees. "Did you find her address?"

  "Yep. I saved the route to her apartment in my GPS. Are you sure you want to do this? Once I show her the video, I can't unshow it. I don't want you to regret it after and whine about how we went too far."

  "I'm positive," Jenny assures him. "Take the bitch down a few pegs and I'll do nothing but celebrate."

  "How about I call you after?" Robbs suggests. "You can bring your fine ass over here and we can celebrate together."

  "You're on."

  ***

  I stand in front of my full-length mirror and examine myself. My new, dark denim skinny jeans make my ass appear plump and firm, and the emerald shirt showcases my 36C breasts perfectly. Since Paul only ever sees my hair up in a bun in the kitchen, I decided to wear it loose
around my shoulders for our date.

  It's not a date, I think, catching myself. It's just two people enjoying a meal together... just like last night, only a different setting. I fasten a silver bracelet around my left wrist and pull my new brown leather boots from their box. As I tug the left one on, my doorbell rings.

  What the fuck? I check the time. It's only six o'clock. Paul and I aren't going out until seven-thirty, and the plan is for us to meet at the restaurant.

  "Hold on," I call out as I pull the boot back off. I make my way to the door and peek through the peephole. Robbs is on the other side, tapping his foot impatiently. I fling the door open.

  "What the hell are you doing here?" I demand.

  "Now, now," Robbs chides me. He pushes his way past me and into the apartment. "Is that any way to welcome a guest?"

  "The word 'guest' would imply that you'd been invited," I reply harshly. I shut the door behind me as I turn toward him. "I don't recall inviting you, so answer my fucking question. And while you're at it, you can explain how you found out where I live."

  "You'd be surprised by what you can learn on the Internet," he answers sharply. "Kiara, I'm here as a friend. There's no need for all of this hostility."

  "I have a hard time believing that. Since when the hell have we been friends?"

  "I know I'm an ass at the restaurant, but you shouldn't take it personally," Robbs insists. "I do admire your talents in the kitchen, but you're the competition, and I've been treating you accordingly... you know, it's considered good manners to offer your guests something to drink."

  "I'm not planning on you being around long enough to finish a drink, but there's some bottled water in the fridge. Help yourself if you want one."

  Robbs walks into my kitchen and retrieves a cold bottle. "This is a quaint place you keep here," he comments as he returns to the living room. "Small... but charming." He opens the bottle and takes a drink.

  "Cut to the chase, Robbs. Why are you here?" I ask impatiently.

  "I'm here because I'm worried about you, Kiara. I see the way Paul looks at you at Fission. And a person would need to be blind and deaf to miss the way he flirts with you. Last night, I noticed you returning those looks. I think you should know what kind of guy you're dealing with."

  "Paul may flirt with me, but it's harmless," I insist. "And even if it wasn't, it's none of your business."

  "We're competing for a spot as Paul's apprentice, so I feel that it's very much my business," Robbs argues. "And I know things about our boss... things that would make you never want to set foot in the restaurant again, much less flirt with the asshole."

  "I know that people at Fission gossip about him, Robbs. There's nothing you can tell me that I haven't already heard. But I don't put much stock in gossip... though I'm not surprised that you do."

  "I've heard stories from Amy and Charlotte too, but that's not why I'm here. If you can look me in the eye and honestly say there's no part of you that's tempted to give in to Paul's advances, then I'll leave right now. But if there IS a part of you that's considering being with him... even a small part... then there's something I need to show you."

  His last statement got my attention. "Show me...?" I ask slowly.

  Robbs pulls his phone from his jeans' pocket. "Show you..."

  What the hell. Let him play whatever game he wants and maybe he'll leave. "And what is this earth-shattering video you have for me?"

  "I'm glad you ask," Robbs says, smiling sadly. "You're making the right decision. I know you stayed late at the restaurant with Paul last night. Jenny and I had a drink after we finished up, and I left my phone at our booth. I went back a few hours later and saw your car pull out of the parking lot when I drove up."

  "We spent a long time cleaning," I explain quickly.

  "I'm sure you did," he says, nodding. "That's not why I'm here, though it does make me wonder if I'm too late." He takes another long drink from the bottle and stares at me intently.

  "Go on..."

  "The front door was unlocked, so I let myself in and grabbed my phone. I hit the head, sat in there for a while and checked the messages I'd missed... logged in to Facebook... you know the drill. Anyway, when I was finished, I opened the bathroom door slowly. I didn't want Paul to know I was there. Frankly, I didn't feel like talking to the bastard. But to my surprise, I stepped into the dining room and found Paul and Jenny at the bar."

  "Jenny?" I ask in shock. "What was she doing there?"

  "Paul," Robbs answers simply.

  My mouth drops in disbelief. This can't be happening. There's no way he slept with Jenny after our dinner last night. "I don't believe you," I tell Robbs.

  "I don't imagine you would," he says with a nod, "but you can see if for yourself." He holds his phone out to me. "All you have to do is push play."

  A part of me, a big part, doesn't want to see what is on his phone. If I don't see it, it's not real. But curiosity combined with my need to protect myself takes over, and I take the phone from Robbs' hand. I swipe the screen to reveal a still shot of Paul and Jenny at the bar. Paul stands behind it while Jenny perches on a stool.

  "You may want to sit down," Robbs warns.

  I take a seat on my sofa and push play. I watch Jenny and Paul speak, their hands entwined.

  "Is there any audio?" I ask Robbs, desperate to hear the conversation.

  He shakes his head and takes a seat beside me. "You won't want to hear it anyway," he assures me.

  Jenny moves onto the top of the bar, followed quickly by Paul. My heart breaks as I watch them strip off their clothes and go at it like animals.

  "Kiara?" Robbs says softly. "Do you want to turn it off now? I think you've seen enough."

  I shake my head without taking my eyes off of the screen. I need to see everything, to know exactly what happened. We watch the rest of the video in silence until, finally, it ends. Robbs puts an arm around me and I'm too upset to shake him off.

  "Kiara, I'm so sorry. I know the video is graphic, but I also knew that you had to see it."

  "Do either of them know you filmed this?" I ask softly.

  "No," he assures me. "After they finished, I ducked down in a booth and hid until Jenny left and Paul went back to the kitchen. Then I snuck out the front door."

  "Why did you film them?"

  "Because what Paul is doing is wrong. I think he needs to be stopped. I knew if I didn't have concrete proof, people would assume that I was accusing him of things because I'm not doing well in the completion. Though I think what I have here proves that I'm not doing well because I don't, shall we say, have the right equipment."

  "Thank you for showing this to me, Robbs," I say as I rise to my feet. "If you'll excuse me, I have some phone calls to make."

  ***

  Jenny paces the floors of her small apartment, waiting for the phone to ring. When it finally does, she answers it quickly. "Is it done?"

  "It's done," Robbs informs her. "I think we've seen the last of Kiara. Now get your ass over here so we can celebrate."

  ***

  I wake to the sound of my phone ringing. I roll over, see Paul's number on the screen, and silence the call. I check the time on my bedside alarm clock. It's seven-thirty in the morning. I yawn, stretch, and try to hold back my tears as the memories of that video fill my head.

  After Robbs left last night, I spent a long time trying to figure out what to do. I wasn't ready to face Paul, so I stood him up and ignored his calls. I know I have to face him, so I retrieve my phone and listen to his messages.

  "Kiara, it's a quarter to eight. I'm just wondering where you're at. I've got us a table, call me if you're lost and I'll give you directions. See you soon."

  "Kiara, it's eight now, and I'm really starting to worry about you. Please call me back as soon as you get this message."

  The next voicemail came through at nine o'clock. "Kiara, I'm incredibly worried about you. If you don't call me back soon, I'm going to start calling the hospitals and police stations.
"

  I'm oddly satisfied to hear the worry in his voice. Let the bastard suffer for a while. I start the fourth message.

  "Kiara, I don't know what's going on. I know that you're not at any of the hospitals, but I'm still afraid that something's happened to you. Please, please call me as soon as possible. If you've decided you don't want to spend time with me, that's all right. I'll understand. I just need to know that you're all right."

  "You're just worried that I've caught on to your slime ball ways," I scream into my receiver to no one. I click on the message he left a few minutes ago.

  "Kiara, this is Paul again. I finally got a hold of Jenny last night, and she said you had plans with a friend from culinary school. Was I confused about our plans? I thought we were meeting for dinner last night, but if I was mistaken, I'm sorry for all of the messages. Call me back, or I'll just see you when you come in to work today."

  I can tell by the tone of his voice that he knows damn well he wasn't confused about our plans. He knows I stood him up on purpose, and he's panicked. My phone rings again, and once again I silence it. I know I have to face him, but I want to do it face-to-face. I want him to look me in the eye and admit to what he did.

  I roll out of bed and carefully select my clothes for the day. I pull on my new skinny jeans and a tight cowl-necked sweater that accentuates my curves. It's not an outfit I'd work in, but I'm not planning on doing any cooking today.

  I ride the elevator downstairs, climb in my car, and drive toward Fission. On my way, I call Chef Lee's office.

  "Hello?" she answers on the second ring.

  "Good morning, Chef Lee. This is Kiara Sands."

  "Hello, Kiara! It's so good to hear from you. I've been wondering how things are going at Fission. Your weekly reports from Chef Weston have been phenomenal. I'm so proud of you! Are you enjoying the experience?"

  "That's actually why I'm calling, Chef Lee," I tell her. "I was hoping you have room in your schedule to meet with me this afternoon. There are some things I'd like to discuss."

  "Let me check..." After a long pause, she returns to the line. "I can meet with you at three-thirty. Will that work with your schedule at the restaurant?"