by Jill Haven
But it was true. My training methods really did produce world-class chefs, and each of these juniors was lucky to be in my kitchen. Mom’s legacy, indeed. A picture of her sat on my desk and another behind the bar, overseeing the restaurant. My inspiration and good luck talisman, all rolled into one.
As I finished speaking, the double doors swung open with a flourish, allowing the chatter and clattering of the waitstaff to filter in from the dining room, and nine of my most experienced staff members entered the kitchen.
I pointed around the group, directing people to different workstations. “We’re all going to be working on the appetizers this morning. It’s important you familiarize yourself with the techniques involved, and if you have any questions at all, ask your mentor. My kitchen is no place for anyone who doesn’t know a flambé from a fudgesicle.”
A ripple of nervous laughter made the bulk of their reply, but I also caught one or two ‘Yes, Chef!’s. I watched the mentors make their way to their assigned stations and introduce themselves to the new recruits.
I’d organized the groups to make the most of individual skillsets—as much as I could, anyway—and pleasure surged through me as Dmitri introduced himself to August. I’d deliberately paired my most experienced and talented chef with August, but it still seemed anyone’s guess over who had the most to teach whom.
August drew himself up to his full height and met Dmitri’s handshake with a firm one of his own. My fingers curled in response as if desperate to take his hand myself, and I shoved my fist behind my back before flexing my fingers wide open again. Something about August had gotten under my skin.
I retreated down the narrow corridor to my office when the real work in the kitchen started, even though I loved to stand and observe the chefs in action, especially as things heated up and tempers frayed a little, keeping everyone right on the edge of their focus. Still, I wouldn’t really be needed until there was something to taste, and until then, I had some paperwork and last-minute administration tasks to complete in as much quiet as I could find.
Hours seemed to pass before the gentle knock against the doorframe, where my door stood ajar. Never firmly closed, but not exactly inviting visitors, either. I was an approachable boss, but not access all areas.
“Come.” I glanced up as I issued the terse command and clamped down my sharp intake of breath. August stood in the doorway, his cheeks flushed, his blond hair swept back from his forehead, and his blue eyes alight.
“Dmitri sent me to tell you we’re ready for taste testing.”
“Excellent. My favorite part of the day.” My stomach rumbled on cue, and August chuckled, the rich sound sending a wash of goosebumps over my skin.
He walked ahead of me as if eager to return to his workstation and I deliberately didn’t watch his ass or think about his long lean legs. I forced myself not to see the way Dmitri smiled at him or notice the way my gut clenched as he did so, either.
The appetizers had been laid out under the heat lamps, on the long serving counter, and I spotted August’s right away. None of them were named, but I just knew. His workmanship was unmistakable. I worked my way through the dishes, offering critique on presentation and flavor blending, even pausing to wipe the edge of a plate or two, to show everyone how dishes must look as they left the kitchen.
So many of the dishes were technically perfect. I even had a feeling I knew which Jared had prepared, but the magic was still missing. Funny, he was also an omega, but nothing about him called to me the way August did.
Eventually, I couldn’t delay any longer. Only August’s appetizers remained, and I laid a generous smear of the fresh pâté over the thick, rustic toast before I bit into it. I closed my eyes, considering the delicate blend of flavors, and when I opened them again, August’s gaze had clouded, his brows drawn in.
“It’s perfect,” I blurted, and he grinned, and it was as if the sun had emerged from behind a cloud just to shine on me. I forced a laugh to cover my awkward hesitation. “I mean, exactly right. But you’re supposed to get something wrong at this stage, so I have a comment to make or an improvement to suggest. Otherwise why am I here?” I spread my arms and a couple of people laughed.
I itched to feed him a morsel of the dish, maybe let my fingers brush against his lips or tongue, but I tore my attention away from him. My heart thumped, each knock bringing actual pain to my chest—delicious pain as I stood so close to the omega that I almost drowned in his scent.
But I can’t go there. When I hired August, he’d became part of my small staff team, and that staff was vital to the success of STK Storm and my long-term return to Cedar Falls. I planned to stay for as long as Mom needed me. And it wouldn’t only be a matter of my personal life.
My number one rule in my restaurants was no fraternization. Or, if staff members did start anything, I didn’t want to know about it. Personal issues needed to be kept out of my space and out of my kitchen. That probably counted double if the boss was the one doing the fraternizing. I’d learned over the years that a frayed temper here or there was nothing to rival the complete destruction an imploding relationship could cause in the heated confines of a professional kitchen.
As much as I spoke sense to myself and my brain nodded right along with my mouth, neither my cock nor my heart seemed to get the message, and I stepped to the side, trying to distance myself from August and the fresh mossy scent that seemed to cling to him.
It was too easy to imagine long woodland walks, clear blue skies, and deep green groves where he’d lie in my arms and I’d sink inside him, bringing him to the kind of pleasure he’d never experienced before.
I gripped the edge of the stainless steel counter, forcing my runaway thoughts into a handbrake turn.
No.
If I ever learned what it felt like to be inside August, I wouldn’t be able to handle working with him, and I had too much riding on this. According to Gaby, so did August, and as I’d stolen his chance of Paris away, I couldn’t ruin this shot for both of us.
I cleared my throat—far more to check that my vocal cords still worked than attract anyone’s attention. “Okay, great day everyone. Time to go home and get some rest. Tomorrow’s looking even busier.” I didn’t look at August. Couldn’t look at him. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I can see some worry on a few faces. And that’s good. You should be worried.” Then I laughed. “If you stop worrying, you’ve lost your edge. And let me leave you with my favorite words. Have fun, take care, and put your heart into it. I know you can all be spectacular chefs.” I paused for a carefully choreographed casual wink. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
They started to drift away in small groups, some already removing their aprons, or popping open their jackets. The release of tension sighed through the room. Shit. I had to do all of this again tomorrow, and the day after that. I turned my nails into my palm, willing the return of my self-control and common sense, then I turned toward my office, just in time to catch August’s smile as he angled to move past me on his way to the exit.
Our shoulders brushed each other and I froze as a wave of longing headed direct to my cock. Fuck. This was going to be harder than I thought.
I paused, grasping for a distraction before I had to be alone with my thoughts, in case August hijacked them. I glimpsed the solitary figure at the other end of the space, tucked away with the sinks and dishwashers. “You okay over there, Noah? Think you have a handle on all this?”
He turned and smiled. “Sure, thing. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“No problem. Ryker said he didn’t have any more shifts to spare each week but knew you needed the work, so this should be great.” I offered him a quick wave as I headed back to my office. Invoices and August-free air awaited.
I spent too many hours holed up in my office, waiting for August’s scent to dissipate from the kitchens before I tried to leave. When I arrived home, emptiness crashed around me. I opened the door and turned on more lights then I needed until wa
rmth seemed to creep back into the building. Cooking seemed ridiculous after such a long day, and I grabbed a beer from the fridge and called it good.
I tried switching on the TV, but the noise just interfered with my relaxation, so I threw myself onto my couch with just a dim lamp on the end table for company. My thoughts veered back to the restaurant and what tomorrow would bring. More group work, more training, more samples.
More August.
My cock twitched, and I reached down absentmindedly to smooth my hand over it, enjoying the bulge in my palm. August’s fingers would look good on my skin, and imagining his hand wrapped around me made my pants tight and uncomfortable. I craved his touch.
Images of his full lips, perfect for kissing, and his tight ass—perfect for riding, flooded my mind, and I pressed my head back into the cushion behind me, closing my eyes and resting my teeth against my lip. He’d grown up into an irresistible package.
I groaned as I slid my zipper down and worked myself free. I wanted to touch August, and I wanted him to touch me.
I lifted my hips, thrusting my cock deeper into my grasp, nudging against the small knot at the base, and I drew a sharp inhale. Fuck, that felt good. August’s scent seemed to linger in the air around me, and I thrust again, imaging his groan of pleasure as I eased inside him.
My breathing hitched, loud in the quiet room, and the noise of my excitement fueled my arousal further.
I slid my free hand under my shirt, allowing it to roam across my skin as I tugged at my cock, allowing it to grow in my hand until it strained and bobbed, seeking release. I wanted August to kneel in front of me, kissing his way up my thighs. I shifted, restless with need as heat twisted into coils deep inside me.
My balls tightened, and I stroked them, shifting my attention from my shaft. The small whispers of touch sent shivers through me, and anticipation lodged in my chest. Teasing myself had never felt so good.
How would August’s hand feel when he gripped my dick? I smoothed my palm over the head and pressed my cock against my belly as I drew my fingernails along the underside, trembling at the light touch.
“Fuck me,” I barked, my voice hoarse, then I took my cock into my fist and pumped up and back down, working my hips out of my seat as I chased an orgasm that had been building all day as I fought my attraction to the only omega who mattered in my kitchen.
I laid a long lick across my palm before continuing. “Jesus…” I settled into the sensation, basking for a moment before my hips tilted again and my balls drew in one last time as my head filled with the noise of blood pounding through my ears.
I came in a series of long spurts, and August’s name forcing itself past my lips.
Then I grabbed the box of Kleenex to wipe away the evidence before I had to spend too long looking at my shame. An employee…a young omega. But here, in the dark of my home, I hadn’t respected either one. My drive to possess August Lennox, to make him mine, could turn dangerous for both of us.
I’d known that before I even hired him, but I’d gone ahead anyway. I stared at the crumpled Kleenex in my hand. What had I done?
5
August
June 3rd
The previous day had been so good. Ewin Storm’s kitchen seemed like my own personal wonderland, and he’d eaten my appetizer without so much as a comment on what to do better. I’d floated all the way home, bored Griff and Brody to death by talking them through each step of prep and finished result, and drifted off to sleep with a smile on my face. At least, I thought I did. I woke up with a smile, anyway.
I hurried down the alley and into the kitchen, pausing to appreciate the still-gleaming trash cans outside. Ewin ran a tight, clean ship. I headed to my workstation, acknowledging Dmitri, who was already there.
“Hey.” I fastened my whites and secured my apron around my waist.
“Hey.” He smiled. “Ready for another great day?”
I nodded as I reached for the menu, ready to check out what I’d be cooking.
“You really knocked his socks off yesterday, you know. Think you can do it again?” He tipped his chin in the direction of Ewin’s office, and apprehension crept into my chest.
“I hope so. I really want this.” Trouble was, I seemed to want too much. The job, the kitchen, the training…the boss.
Ewin had been my first thought that morning. We’d bumped shoulders as I left the previous night, and his honey and spice scent had kindled a flame that sleep hadn’t doused, but I shook those thoughts away. I hadn’t given up Paris to ruin my chances with a crush. Still, part of me craved him—his alpha protection and his love.
“August?” Dmitri looked at me.
“Yeah?” Had I just missed a question? “Sorry. I was thinking about today’s ingredients.”
“Oh, yeah? Which one caught your interest?” He leaned over, pretending to study the paper in my hand, but his eyes twinkled as if he knew I hadn’t been thinking about the food at all.
“All of them, I guess.” I shoved the menu and recipes aside and reached for a frying pan from under my bench. “Shall we get started?”
He chuckled. “Absolutely. Let’s wow the boss again today and keep your gold star firmly on your chest.”
We worked solidly through the day, Dmitri mostly in an ornamental role as I’d practiced many of these techniques over the years, and they came as second nature. Then we tasted and discussed the flavors before selecting the best presented to show Ewin. Eventually, my three main course dishes sat next to everyone else’s, and Dmitri and I hung toward the back of the crowd of gathered chefs.
I took a moment to look around the kitchen, noting how everything gleamed and shone under the bright lights. The stainless steel had been cleverly accented in places with deep reds, that probably didn’t belong in any commercial kitchen, and my heartrate picked up at the idea Ewin was a man who didn’t always play by the rules.
Dmitri nodded at me. “I think you’ve got it in the bag again today, man. Best-looking dishes out there.”
“Yeah, well, the proof of the pudding is in the tasting,” I grumbled, suddenly anxious to see Ewin make his way from his office. I wanted to show him I could be consistent with my quality. That wouldn’t happen if the heat lamps dried out my dish.
Just as I swallowed a sigh of frustration, the crowd parted and Ewin swept through, his shoulders broad in his black jacket. My throat dried, and I widened my stance to ease the sudden tightness in my pants.
Ewin stopped and slowly turned to face me, his eyes blazing. But the warm smell of honey enveloped me, and I dropped my gaze to study the plain white tiles on the floor.
He tasted his way along the line, the almost-ceremonial tasting progressing in much the same way as the previous day, and my breath caught when he finally hovered his fork over my first plate.
He closed his eyes briefly as if saying grace, and Dmitri’s hand landed on my shoulder as he offered his reassurance. My fingers curled, nestling tightly against my palms. I had this. We’d tasted it. The flavors were all there.
But Ewin chewed quickly, swallowed audibly, and simply nodded before moving quickly to the next plate. I held my breath again, but he just offered a thumbs-up, his attention still on the rack of lamb.
He hadn’t even looked at me.
I glanced at Dmitri, and his nose wrinkled. “He must be very busy today,” he offered, but confusion showed in his tone.
When Dmitri tried to help me clean my station, I shrugged my shoulders. “I’ve got this.” Banging some pots and pans around seemed like just the way to exorcise some demons. I carried them over to Noah.
“Sorry, man,” I murmured as I added them to his pile.
Noah smiled. “It’s what I get paid for. No worries.”
“Hardly big bucks, I bet.” Jared’s cruel tone cut across the space between us.
Noah shrugged, his eyes firmly on the pot in his hand.
I whirled on Jared. “Keep your opinions to yourself.”
“You know…” He lea
ned against the huge door to the walk-in fridge. “You’d be better setting your sights on someone like this little dude. A harmless little beta. Easier for you to handle than someone with actual power.”
I tensed, then lowered my shoulders back to a normal position with some effort. Jared wasn’t worth my time. I headed back to my workstation, my head swimming with Jared’s comment about Noah and my crush on Ewin. Surely Jared didn’t know?
Maybe I could smack Ewin Storm right out of my senses. But the more I tidied, the emptier the kitchen grew as the others finished up and left, until eventually, I was the only one left.
So I waited. I had nothing left to lose, and Ewin owed me an explanation. If he didn’t intend to offer critique or constructive criticism, what was I doing here? The more I considered it, the more my irritation grew. Far from offering me a better training than I could have received at Paris, he would have damned me to life as a low-level chef in Cedar Falls.
As Ewin finally emerged from his office, I leaned against my prep table. “You didn’t say if I got my dishes right.”
He glanced up, his eyes wide as if I’d startled him. “So you waited to hear if I liked your food?”
The way he said it sounded a little silly, and I opened my mouth to explain about Paris.
But Ewin sighed, the sound heavy. “We’ll have a better day tomorrow, August. Go home.”
But…but…what? What did he mean? I must have done something wrong. He must have found something in my meal that he didn’t like, but he should have just said. Sure, Jared would have laughed over it for a few days—years, probably—but I needed to know what I got wrong so I could learn.
“Paris, Ewin.”
He’d already reached the door, but he whipped around to face me. “What?”
“I chose to stay here with you, to learn from you. But if you won’t tell me what I did wrong, how can I learn? Would I have been better off in Paris?”
He busied himself turning off lights and checking that the power was off to the appliances, and it seemed he wouldn’t answer me, so I spoke again.