by Layla Hagen
“Hey, don’t pester Ian,” Mel said.
“Thank you, Mel. Finally someone who understands.”
“I’m going to try and talk some sense into him at home. But I have to go now. I have a client waiting.” She sent an air kiss to me and Dylan as she headed out of the break room.
“You’re seriously not going to tell me why you were AWOL all weekend?" Dylan asked just as Isabelle joined us.
"Why do you look so perplexed, Dylan?" she asked.
My brother shrugged. "I'm just trying to figure out what Ian was up to on Friday."
Isabelle batted her eyelashes. "Oh, I know that."
Dylan jerked his head back, nearly spilling sparkling water out of his glass.
"Without doing any detective work. How? You can read minds now?"
Isabelle wiggled her eyebrows, looking at me.
"Let me guess. You went to the hospital, went all knight in shining armor, and took Ellie home."
I nodded.
"That still doesn't explain what he did the whole weekend. He ignored my seven calls."
I rolled my eyes. "That's because it's the weekend. Some of us don't work all the time."
My sister perked up. "Wait a second. All weekend?"
Dylan confirmed with a nod.
"Holy shit, you spent the whole weekend with Ellie?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. “She had a concussion, and her roommate was out of town. I didn’t want her to be on her own.”
Isabelle stared at me for a couple of seconds, and I knew without a doubt that my explanation wouldn’t cut it. When she tilted her head, smiling coyly, I had my confirmation.
"Right. So that means you somehow fell into her bed and didn't get back up?"
“Nothing happened,” I insisted.
Isabelle cocked a brow.
I flashed a grin to Dylan. "See, that's how you can question someone and actually get answers."
"Hey, she had insider info. That's not fair."
"True," I admitted.
"So, what does this mean?" Isabelle asked.
I ran a hand through my hair, shrugging. "That Henry is going to kick my ass when he finds out."
Isabelle and Dylan exchanged a glance.
"Am I imagining things, or does our brother here seriously have the hots for Ellie?" Isabelle asked.
"I'm withholding my opinion until I have more info," Dylan replied.
I looked from one to the other. Were they pulling my leg?
"Do any of you have actionable advice?" I asked.
My brother clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You have the hots for your best friend’s sister, who’s in town for half a year. Do I have this right?"
"Yeah."
"Then you're screwed."
"Thanks, man, that's really helpful."
"I'm going to the showers," Dylan said. "I'll leave you two to gossip."
After he left, I looked at Isabelle. "Okay, you always have good ideas and always talk my ear off. Why are you silent now?"
"I'm just trying to tailor my approach."
"Okay. You make it sound like a science."
"It can be," she said.
My sister was a talented counselor, and I wasn't too proud to admit that I was in murky territory here.
"What do you want, Ian?"
"Ellie," I said without hesitation.
"So then just take her out. Do couple stuff."
I frowned. "Can you elaborate? Couple stuff is not really my thing."
"Yes, but first, let me point out that you didn't flinch at the word couple. That's progress."
I shrugged, scratching my chin. I never understood what my siblings and friends liked about couplehood before, but I’d experienced a side of life I hadn't had before spending the weekend with Ellie. I enjoyed relaxing with her all day long, listening to whatever she wanted to share, giving me an insight into who she was.
"I can't see Henry getting upset because you spend time together," she said.
I cocked a brow. "He was my wingman in college, Isabelle."
My sister winced. "Okay then, he might have concerns. Just don't overthink it, Ian. Follow your instincts."
That was good advice. I thought about Isabelle’s words as I returned to the office. I had a call with one of my least favorite clients, Bill. It lasted forty-five minutes, and I wasn’t in a good mood after it ended.
Taking out my phone, I tapped Ellie’s number and instantly felt the tension leave my shoulders.
***
Ellie
I loved being back on my feet and in the kitchen, hustling and bustling. We had a staff member in charge of chopping all the vegetables for me now, but I still had plenty to chop before I could put my salads together.
No one was paying attention to me, which was good because I'd felt a little silly and guilty on Friday as everyone fussed around me. I’d slipped on a piece of lettuce I’d dropped, and it took me by surprise—lesson learned. I’d be more conscious to keep the floor clean. However, I did like having Ian dote on me the whole weekend. He made me feel so special and important, and I wasn't used to it.
I was mostly on my own my entire life, and I had vague memories of being sick as a kid. My parents used to pamper me, but then after the divorce, Mom was so overwhelmed with the full-time job that I tried not to take up too much of her time. I didn't want to add to Mom's plate. So when I had a cold or something, I didn't make a big deal of it. If I had something nasty and needed to see a doctor, then I'd bring it to her attention. Mom was good about taking care of me when I asked, but I didn’t tell her often. I didn’t want to be a burden on top of everything else she was dealing with. But the weekend with Ian had been like a slice out of someone else's life.
My phone beeped as I finished plating three salads, and I took a cursory glance at it. My stepdad sent me a thank you message. I’d shipped his gift with speedy delivery on Sunday, and it arrived early. I smiled, sending back a heart emoji.
I grinned, remembering Ian's surprise when we spoke about gifts. Oh man, I had to stop fantasizing about the weekend. We hadn’t made any more plans, and I didn’t want to think too much about what that meant. Maybe Ian thought we should go back to being friends. My heart felt heavier at the thought. I really had to stop thinking about our weekend, because I just found more reasons to swoon every time I did.
"Ellie, five salads needed, no walnuts. Allergic."
"Okay, I'm on it," I acknowledged, paying special attention to the specific order. Whenever someone with allergens ordered something, I changed my gloves and my cutting knife and chopping board—basically everything. It wasn't just a matter of not putting nuts on it; everything could have remnants of nuts and had to be changed.
My phone pinged again while I was focusing on the salads. It pinged twice in a row, so I assumed that my stepdad wanted to chat some more. After I finished the salads and Raul took them to the lunch crowd, I checked my phone. Holy shit, it wasn't a message from my stepdad. It was from Ian.
Ian: When do you get a break? I want to talk to you.
Okay. Breathe in, breathe out, Ellie. Breathe in, breathe out. Yeah, that wasn't helping. Just like that, I was thinking about the weekend, swooning again. I glanced at the clock and typed back.
Ellie: I have a break in 20 minutes.
Ian replied immediately.
Ian: Call me when you're alone.
Ellie: What kind of call is this going to be that needs me to be alone?
Ian: The kind that makes you blush.
Oh, my God. I was blushing already. I could feel my cheeks heat up.
Luckily, since I was in the kitchen, most people were flushed because of the insane pace at which we moved and the heat of the ovens.
Ellie: Duly noted. I’ll make sure I’m alone. But you’d better keep to your word. I don’t want to go to all that trouble of finding a private space for nothing.
Ian: Game on.
Guess what was all I could think about for the next twenty minutes? That's right, m
y call with Ian. I tried to imagine how it would go. Maybe he wanted to talk about us being friends again, but he'd said he would make me blush, so that seemed off the table.
Nineteen minutes later, I ran to the pantry. That's right; I ran, didn't walk. I only had a five-minute break, and I didn't want to lose even one second.
I could go to the staff break room, but I’d more than likely bump into a coworker, and the man did say he was going to make me blush. I didn't want to risk anyone overhearing us. It was pleasantly cool in the pantry because it was air-conditioned, and I knew that my colleagues rarely came in here. Typically, we took what we needed out in the morning to have it on hand.
I called him right away, leaning against the wall.
"Ellie," he answered in a deep baritone voice that made my toes curl.
"Hey," I said. My voice was ridiculously high-pitched. I put a hand to my stomach, trying to draw in a deep breath so that I wouldn't make a complete fool of myself.
"How are you feeling?" he asked. That was his first question? He wanted to make me swoon already? This wasn't fair. How was I supposed to compartmentalize?
"I'm fine. I feel good as new."
"How long are you working today?"
"Until six o'clock, like usual."
"On your first week back?"
I swear I could hear a growl. The protective streak in his voice was not helping with the swooning.
"Yep. As I said, I feel perfect. I even went for a checkup, and all is well. I didn't see any reason not to come back full-time."
"I’d like to see you this evening. Go out somewhere."
"Oh." I wasn't sure what to say. “Okay.”
“You don’t sound too convinced.” There was an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.
“No, I am. I mean, I do want to go out. I’m just wondering if you want to go out as friends or....”
“Ellie, I told you I’m going to make you blush. In what world do you think we’re going to be just friends?”
I laughed nervously, shrugging even though he couldn’t see me. “I don’t know what your definition of friendship is. Or blushing.”
“First thing I’ll do when I see you is kiss you until you’re wet for me.”
Holy shit! I clenched my thighs together, already hyperventilating.
“That’s a promise right there,” I whispered.
“And I’ll make good on it.”
Instead of thinking about the weekend for the rest of the day, I thought about our upcoming evening. Was this progress? I couldn't even tell.
Chapter Ten
Ellie
I practically jogged home after work, eager to get as much primp time as possible. Harper was in the living room, as usual. For once, she was watching Netflix and not grading papers or doing a craft project.
"Hey, roommate," I said.
"Hey, do you want to grab dinner?"
"No, I’m going out with Ian, and I'm not sure, but I think it’s a date."
She straightened up. "Finally. You need to jump his bones. He’s too hot to be just a friend."
I grinned. “He really is hot. I'm not sure what to wear," I said honestly.
"When in doubt, dress for a date," Harper said with conviction.
I laughed. "I was thinking the same thing."
I chose to put on a red cashmere dress. It was warm and cozy—one of my favorite outfits. It was a steal I bought in a thrift store this summer. It was simple, but it molded to my curves in a way that sweaters never did. I paired it with high-heeled ankle boots, and I also had tights underneath. They were nude, so they weren’t super noticeable unless you were close. But I needed them because October had rolled in with a bang—namely, a freezing wind. I also put on a white coat. It wasn't water repellent, so I hoped we would get lucky with the weather or that we wouldn't have to walk much.
"You look stunning. I love your style," Harper said. "You look like a million bucks."
"Thanks. I buy everything on sale, and I go to thrift stores regularly."
"Really? I can never find anything there."
"I have lots of practice, and you can find so many gems. Sometimes I don’t understand the people who gave them away, because they are so beautiful. But hey, their loss is my gain."
The doorbell rang at seven o'clock on the dot.
"Just pretend I'm not here," Harper said before disappearing into her room. I buttoned up my coat, opening the door. Ian took a huge step back, looking me up and down. I swear I felt as if he could see through my coat. I'd arranged my hair in fluffy curls and put on long earrings. They were sexy—just like my ankle boots.
I closed the front door, and he kissed me the next second, pressing me against it. Oh my God, thank heavens I didn't have lipstick on. He explored my mouth until I felt his kiss in every cell of my body, as if he was kissing me everywhere. I pressed my thighs together and sucked in my tummy. When he pulled back, I said, "That's the best way to say hello."
“And make you wet.” He parted my legs with his knee, trapping my gaze with his.
“I will neither deny nor confirm that.” I infused my voice with as much sass as possible.
“I’ll check later. And I’ll be very thorough.”
“What are we doing?” I asked, needing to change the subject before I melted. “Where are you taking me?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Hmm... why don’t you surprise me? Take me somewhere you like.”
He looked at me intently as if he was trying to figure something out.
“I know just the place.”
Half an hour later, we were sitting on one of the wooden benches in the Battery Park Overlook, watching the New York harbor. The air was humid, and seagulls circled above. I enjoyed the view immensely.
“I love this place,” I said.
“It grounds me.”
“I can understand that.” Ian bringing me to this special place of his made my heart happy.
He immediately pulled me into his lap, making me laugh.
“What?” he asked.
“It took you no time at all to do this.”
“It’s the best way to keep you warm,” he said seriously.
“I see. Very gallant of you.”
He rubbed his hands up and down my arms before undoing two buttons of my coat.
“You’re undressing me to keep me warm?” I challenged, fighting laughter.
“I’m not undressing you. Just undoing these two buttons so I can do this.” He rested his palms on my waist. I felt my body temperature rise the second he touched me, so maybe there was something to his theory.
“Ian... what are we doing exactly?” I asked.
His gaze turned serious. “I enjoy you, Ellie. When I’m not with you, I think about you. I’ll be honest. I have no clue what I’m doing. I’m not good at relationships. I haven’t even tried before. And I know you’re going to New Orleans soon, but until then... you’re all mine.”
I touched his lips, considering his words. I liked that he was so open. I didn’t want to think about further down the road any more than he did. Usually, I was excited about my next placement and would research the city thoroughly, but not this time.
“I like the sound of that.”
“What did you feel this weekend?”
"I was happy," I said honestly. "The way you took care of me, I'm not used to it..." His eyes clouded, and I wondered if I said too much and if I was scaring him away.
“What are we telling Henry?”
I considered this for a few seconds. “Not sure. I wouldn’t even know what to tell him.”
Ian nodded. “He’s my best friend, though. He might be able to read between the lines.”
I shimmied in his lap, putting his hands back on my waist. “Well, if he does, we’ll deal with it. I’m just not in the mood to hear a speech about how I’ll end up hurt and—”
“Ellie!”
I startled at the urgency in his voice. He took one hand out of my coat, p
utting it on my cheek.
“I can’t promise you much, but know this. I won’t hurt you, okay? I won’t.”
“I believe you,” I said playfully, even as my chest filled with warmth. “But Henry might not.”
He groaned. “Yeah. He might not. But he’s a good brother. He’s just looking after you and wants the best for his sister—a guy who checks off all the boxes.”
I didn’t like him talking about another man in my life. I didn’t want to think too much about what was coming after New York. After Ian.
“How often do you come here?” I asked, looking to change the subject.
“Probably once or twice a month—whenever I have a stressful day and want to decompress. It reminds me of home a bit.”
“Montana?”
“Yes.”
“How come? It’s not green or anything.”
“It’s not too crowded. I love New York, but I like quiet and space too, and those aren’t easy to come by in the city.”
“You could move to Tarrytown, like Isabelle. I googled it after you told me about it. The pictures look amazing.”
“I might one day,” he said vaguely. “But right now, I like being in Manhattan.”
“I love it too. It’s an exciting place to be. And the gastronomy scene is hands down the best in the country.”
“Then why enroll in a program with a rotation? Why not just apply for a permanent job here?”
“Several reasons. It’s incredibly hard to get a job in New York even though it has a ton of Michelin-starred restaurants.”
“And the other reason?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. Well, a rotation helps me get more experience. Typically, if you work with one chef for many years, you sort of learn their style. I want to develop my own, so that’s why I looked for a rotational program.”
Ian looked at me intently but didn’t say anything else for a few seconds.
“So after you finish the rotation, you’re going to search for another one?”
“I haven’t thought that far yet. I’ll see. I have seen a few programs that are on different continents—one even had a one-year placement in Tokyo.”
“Tokyo?” He frowned as if he wasn’t sure he understood me.
“Yes. Did you know that it has the highest density of Michelin restaurants in the world?”