“Dinner’s ready,” George called and they made their way into the dining room. The table was set with a white tablecloth, linen napkins and flowers on the table.
“Is this a special occasion?” Piper asked as she took a seat. They were never this formal.
George gestured to Chris, and both Chris and Imogen stood up, holding hands. “I’m pleased to announce Imogen has finally accepted my proposal. We’re getting married.”
Piper squealed.
She jumped to her feet to hug both Imogen and Chris, exclaiming over Imogen’s gorgeous ring. She was so happy for them. Imogen had hesitated to accept Chris’s proposal at first, not because she didn’t love him, but because she had just embraced her independence after years of trying to please her father and didn’t want to rush anything.
It hadn’t taken Imogen long to realize Chris wasn’t controlling, and that she could have her own life with him.
Stepping away from the couple she noticed Tai was standing back. It must be difficult for him because he didn’t know Chris or Imogen.
Walking over, she said, “I’ve known Imogen since middle school. I’m so happy she’s found someone she loves.”
He glanced at her. “And someone who loves her back.”
It was a strange comment to make. Why would they marry if they both didn’t love each other?
When they’d sat down again, Imogen said, “We’re going to have a fall wedding at Chateau Fontaine.”
“That’s not far away,” Piper commented. Weddings were hard to organize.
“There won’t be too many guests and I’ll make all the dresses. I’m sure Mrs. Povey will make us a cake if we get stuck and so really it’s just catering and photography.”
“I know a good caterer,” Tai said. “I’ll give you his details.”
Imogen beamed at him. “Thank you.”
Piper was surprised. She hadn’t expected Tai to say anything.
“You should get married in the treehouse,” Kate said. “Up at those windows so everyone can see – and then you can slide down the slide together.”
Imogen glanced at Chris. “That’s a great idea. We’ll have to check it out.”
Piper laughed. Imogen’s treehouse was one of epic proportions and was where Imogen and Chris had first met as teenagers. She liked the idea they would marry there.
Talk covered plans for the wedding, which Imogen had already given a lot of thought to, and then shifted to other topics. Tai was quiet through most of it, but he listened.
When George collected the plates, Tai stood. “I’ll get dessert.”
What had he brought with him? Piper tapped her foot on the floor, her anticipation high. His restaurant was renowned, not to mention she’d had the best meal of her life there.
Ten minutes later George and Tai came back carrying bowls of dessert.
It was some kind of sorbet covered in a berry compote and topped with strawberries.
When she tasted it, the flavor burst onto her tongue and her eyes rolled back into her head. “Oh my.”
“Mom, this is better than pecan pie,” Toby said.
Elle grinned at him. “It sure is.”
“Pecan pie’s Toby’s favorite at the moment,” George told Tai.
“The highest of compliments then,” Tai said and smiled. Piper was glad he wasn’t always so serious.
She focused on the dessert, savoring each mouthful. There was so much taste from each bite. She tried to work out what the flavors were, but then gave up and enjoyed.
When she had finally finished scraping her bowl, she looked up straight into Tai’s eyes. They were darker than normal and the intensity was back. Piper’s body went immediately to burning.
He looked at her lips and she ran her tongue over them, wetting them. Holy hell, the man was hotter than the August sun.
“Piper, have you finished with your bowl?”
Elle’s voice broke through Piper’s daze. She was waiting next to her with her arm outstretched.
“Yes. Thank you.” She passed Elle her bowl and then glanced down at the table, refusing to look at Tai again.
Why did she have to be attracted to someone who clearly wasn’t interested in her? She had to get him out of her system. Hopefully she could get the interview and then stay away from him.
That was the safest plan.
***
When Piper mentioned she had to go, Tai was ready. “I’d better make a move as well,” he said, getting to his feet and gathering up his backpack.
He’d had fun and he hadn’t been expecting to. He’d watched the occasional baseball game at George’s place, and he’d met Elle and her boy, but the others were strangers to him.
Except Piper.
She was beginning to interest him more than she should.
Watching her enjoy the dessert he’d made had been an erotic experience, the way she’d sucked every last bit from the spoon. He’d found himself wishing he was the spoon, and when she’d finally looked up, he’d realized the attraction was mutual.
So he could admit now he found her hot.
But it didn’t change the fact she was a journalist.
Not that she’d acted like it during the evening. He’d been expecting her to hound him, ask him questions about the restaurant and try to convince him to do the interview. Instead she hadn’t mentioned his involvement at all.
Because of that, he was willing to be interviewed, on a couple of conditions.
He grabbed the helmet he’d left by the door and followed Piper, Elle and George out the front.
“Thanks for dinner,” he said to George and was surprised when Elle hugged him and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you for dessert,” she said.
He shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
He straddled his motorbike and called out to Piper, “Do you want to call me about the interview tomorrow?”
Her mouth dropped open, and he put his helmet on so she couldn’t see him smile.
“Ah, sure. What time will you be at the restaurant?”
“From ten,” he said. He started his bike, felt satisfaction from the purr of the engine and gave a salute.
Then he drove away, already looking forward to tomorrow.
Chapter 4
Piper picked up her phone and put it down without dialing several times before she got up the courage to call the Wooden Spoon the next morning. She’d been replaying the moment last night when Tai had oh-so-casually said to call him about the interview. She certainly wasn’t confident he would do it. He might want her to call just so he could tell her he wasn’t interested. They hadn’t talked much the night before, but she’d been utterly conscious of him after the dessert incident. It was doing her head in, second-guessing his response.
Annoyed with herself, she dialed the number.
The person who answered put her on hold and a minute later Tai picked up.
“Thanks for calling, Piper.” He actually sounded friendly.
“You wanted me to call about the interview,” she said, keeping her tone business-like, professional.
“Yes. I’ll do it on two conditions.”
Piper knew better than to get excited. “What are they?”
“I get to read and edit the copy you submit to your editor,” he began.
“Read, yes. Edit, no,” she said. “They need to be my words, but I will rewrite sentences you think may be misleading or ambiguous, within reason.”
Tai was silent for a moment and she thought he would refuse. “Agreed.”
“And the second condition?”
“You need to spend an evening in my shoes, at the restaurant.”
Piper laughed. “Trust me, you don’t want me to cook.”
“Not cooking, watching the process.”
Surprised he was letting her have so much access, she asked, “Can I interview your staff?”
“Only if they agree, and you make it clear to them that what they say is on the record.”
“Of cou
rse. When would you like me to come?”
“Are you free tonight?”
She had a couple of stories to cover that afternoon, but they weren’t big ones. She could do them quickly. “I can be there by five,” she said.
“I’ll see you then.” Tai hung up.
Piper stared at her cell and then grinned, pumping her arms in the air.
This was a huge turnaround. What had made him change his mind?
She had no idea, but she wasn’t going to miss the opportunity.
It was likely the only one she’d get.
***
Just before five o’clock, Piper stood outside the Wooden Spoon. She’d debated what to wear and settled for smart-casual. She didn’t want to be too dressy if all she was going to do was sit around the kitchen all night, but she wanted to look professional.
The maître d’ took her through to the kitchen and into Tai’s office. He wasn’t there, but the man told her to wait, so she took a seat.
The office had a window in one wall overlooking the kitchen, which was already busy with people dressed in white chef uniforms at different stations doing different things. A number of the staff appeared to be of Native American descent like Tai.
It was very busy and there was only one table of customers.
Then one of the chefs clapped his hands together and called for attention. Instantly there was silence as all the staff stopped what they were doing and turned to him. Piper got up and moved to the door. The chef who had got everyone’s attention had his brown hair tied back in a braid. It had to be Tai.
Tai’s voice rang out loud as he spoke some kind of tribal blessing. He then issued a few instructions to which the other chefs said, “Yes, Chef.” And they got to work.
Tai turned and his eyes met Piper’s. She’d never seen him in his chef’s uniform before. The double-breasted jacket fitted him well and he wore it with calm authority. It was definitely a good look for him.
He walked over and smiled. “Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks for inviting me.” Before she could get distracted by his smile, she asked, “What kind of blessing was that?”
“Straight to the point,” he commented. “It’s from the Queche tribe. It’s a prayer to the ancestors for good luck.”
“Do you do it every night?”
“Before lunch and dinner.” He waited for her next comment.
“It’s obviously been working,” Piper said. She wasn’t sure what she thought about prayers and good luck. She’d always believed you made your own, but she wasn’t about to question his beliefs. The interview wasn’t about that. She made a note.
“What do you want me to do tonight?” she asked.
“Observe, ask questions. Kath or I will be able to answer most of what you want to know, and I’ve told the other staff you may want to talk to them on their dinner break, but that they don’t have to if they don’t want.”
“What are the different stations for?” Piper asked, starting with the basics.
He gestured for her to follow him and he took her around, introducing her to the line chefs, explaining which part of the meal they were each responsible for.
She had never been behind the scenes in a restaurant like this and had often wondered how it ran. She’d never realized her meal was made by several people.
“Order,” someone called.
Tai pointed to a large monitor mounted on a wall. A new order had appeared on it. “The wait staff have mobile devices that allow them to take the orders and send them straight through to the kitchen. The device then notifies them when the order is ready to serve. This way they can stay out on the floor where they’re needed, making sure the customers are happy.
“We have an average time it takes to get the meal on the table, and the device also flags when this is past. If the table hasn’t got the meal yet, the wait staff will check with the kitchen and, if it’s going to be more than five minutes, we offer them a complimentary drink.”
“Wow, that’s service. Does it happen much?”
“Maybe once a week.”
He must have the restaurant running like a machine.
“Do you get many people with food allergies?” Piper asked. They would surely throw off the routine.
“A few each night. Usually it’s a matter of leaving out a certain ingredient, but occasionally we have to be real careful. They get flagged on the monitor so everyone is aware. Either Kath or I make sure those dishes are correct before they go out.”
More orders were coming up on the monitor and the kitchen was coming alive with the clang and sizzle of cooking. Scents of fried garlic and other delectable aromas assaulted her nose.
“How do you stop eating everything you cook?” she asked.
Tai chuckled. It was low and soft, but made her insides vibrate. “When you’re cooking it, you lose your appetite a little. Besides we’re constantly tasting to make sure it’s all correct.”
“What’s the shift length?”
“Between five and seven hours. Everyone gets a dinner break.”
“Do they bring their own sandwiches?” she joked.
“Someone is always allocated as the dinner chef,” Tai told her.
“What do you mean?”
“Each of my staff gets a cooked meal every shift. They choose anything from the menu and the dinner chef prepares it.”
“How do I get myself a job here?” she asked, not altogether kidding. She could imagine having meals cooked like that every time she went to work.
“You’ll get your meal tonight,” he told her.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that.” She didn’t want him to think she was taking advantage of her situation.
“You’re walking in my shoes, so you get a meal.” He handed her a menu. “Choose something and write it on the board over there.” He pointed to a whiteboard where there was a list with time, name and meal on it. “I need to help out. Take a seat in my office and you can watch everything.” He joined the fray before she could argue with him.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, she scanned the menu, her mouth watering as she read the descriptions. There was a large selection of seafood – fish, oysters, clam and crab – as well as deer, rabbit and turkey. The dishes were flavored with chili, persimmon or berries, and other amazing combinations. Finally she wrote her selection on the board and made herself comfortable in Tai’s office.
A busboy poked his head around the door. “Can I get you a drink, ma’am?” he asked. He was distinguished from the chefs by his black pants and black apron and he didn’t look old enough to be out of high school.
“A bottle of water would be great.”
“Sure thing.” He disappeared and reappeared a few minutes later with a bottle and a glass.
“I’m Ralph,” he said. “Give me a yell if you need anything else.” He winked at her and left.
She chuckled. He was definitely a charmer. She settled in to observe the dance of the kitchen.
It really was a sight to behold. Each station was in use: mountains of food appeared, transformed and then disappeared out into the restaurant. Tai floated through the area, relaxed and at ease despite the frenetic pace. He was in his element, helping out where needed, putting the finishing touches on plates and giving his OK for them to be served.
The wait staff collected the orders from the heated area behind the bar. They appeared almost like magic as soon as the order went up and the plates were whisked out to the right person.
At one stage one of the line chefs swore and dropped a pan, clutching his hand.
Tai moved to him, checked the injury and ordered him to the first-aid station. One of the busboys had already begun to clean up the mess and Kath appeared to take over the cooking at that station.
It was like clockwork.
Piper watched in fascination until about seven when the first person got his break. Tai ducked his head into the room. “Break room is next door,” he said, pointing. “Jared will be in sh
ortly if you want to speak with him.”
Piper got to her feet and stretched before grabbing her satchel and heading to the next room.
It was simply furnished. There was a round wooden table with four chairs around it as well as a navy blue two-seater sofa. In one corner was a small fridge, and as Jared came in he swiped a drink from it and sat down, dropping his chef’s hat on the table and taking a long swig from the bottle.
“It must be hot work,” Piper commented and introduced herself.
“It is, but you get used to it.” He took another sip. “What do you want to know?”
Piper decided to start simply. “How long have you worked at the Wooden Spoon?”
“Since it opened. As soon as I heard Tai was going out on his own, I wanted in.”
She was surprised by his confidence. “Had you worked with him before?”
“He was the sous chef at a restaurant where Kath and I worked. Work was always better when he was in charge and the head chef was away.”
“Why was that?”
“He cares.” Jared lifted his bottle and gestured out to the kitchen. “See when Howell burned himself? Tai made sure he got the proper first aid. Other head chefs would have been annoyed and yelled at him to get back to work. Some would take the spilled food out of his paycheck.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Tai came into the room carrying a plate of food that smelled divine. He put it in front of Jared. “Duck with persimmon sauce and micro greens.”
“Thanks, Chef.”
Tai left and Jared got stuck into the food. “I always love it when it’s Tai’s turn to be dinner chef.”
“Tai cooked that?” Piper asked. So much of what she’d seen of the chef surprised her. She’d expected him to be surly and intense, because that had been her initial experience with him, but with his employees he was friendly and kind.
“Yeah. He’s dinner chef at least once a week. You got lucky tonight.”
“So do head chefs at other restaurants cook for their staff?”
“Some do. Some don’t even provide a break, depending on the shift length. Tai makes meals for everyone from the busboy to Kath.”
The Texan Quartet (Books 1-4) Omnibus Page 84