Sizzle

Chapter 10

Elliot

Ireposition the tray for the fourteenth time trying to find a better angle, but the whole damn platter looks stupid. Everything looks stupid. But I followed Joelle’s instructions to the letter, so maybe the only stupid here is me.

Considering my behavior the other night, I’m pretty sure that’s accurate.

I haven’t seen Joelle since the night of the storm. Alex either, for that matter. The power came back on during the night so we opened Duckbill right on time the next day, but she’s had two days off and Alex’s been out of town for work. Which is just fucking priceless because he only has to travel, like, twice a year. Why did it have to happen this weekend?

I guess I could have called him but what am I supposed to say? Hey, so about that night you made Joelle come through her clothes and I got to watch…

Even thinking the words has me going rock hard. I mean, I’ve had my share of hot sex—which is to say, not enough. I’ve had threesomes before. Well, one threesome back in college, with two girls.

None of it ever made my heart stop like watching Joelle work herself over on Alex.

What I can’t figure out is how the hell is it that I’m not pissed at him right now. It makes no sense. I should be furious, or at least… I don’t know, resigned to the idea of them being together. I all but set them up, for God’s sake.

Resignation is not what I feel. Pissed off is not what I feel.

What I feel makes no sense at all, so I’m busting my ass at work. Joelle will be here any minute for one last QC. If all goes well, we’ll start pushing this platter today.

Jimmy and I took another look at the books last night. Even with the extra sales from the holiday crowds, there’s no way I’m going to make that lease payment in a few weeks. Joelle’s new menu is my last shot.

A tap at the door finally stops me from staring daggers at the stupid platter.

“Hey,” I say, holding the door to let Joelle in. Rain mists the floor around my feet.

“Hey,” she says. She doesn’t look at me. God, it’s all over her face.

“How’s it going?” It’s the best I can do, because the chill in the air brought out roses in her cheeks and I’m breathless at how beautiful she looks this morning.

“Not bad,” she says, hanging up her raincoat. “Cold today.”

Still not looking at me.

I say something unintelligible about the weather and wave her over to the prep table where I’ve set things up. We’re just doing a short taste test this morning so the rest of the staff will be here soon.

I don’t get her alone very often, not when there’s nobody else around. It’s like stepping outside in a downpour and finding a single warm patch of sunshine.

“Oh, it looks wonderful!”

I try to cover my double-take, checking her face for any sign of sarcasm.

Huh. Guess the shit-tastic filter in my head really was just me.

“Did I get it right?”

“It’s exactly as I imagined it,” she says turning the platter one way, then the other. “Well done on the plating.”

“Thanks.”

I pass her a small appetizer plate and the tongs she’d listed in the instructions. I watch her meticulously compiling her sample: first the crusted baguette, a drizzle of rich olive oil, a razor thin slice of dry chorizo, a hunk of Spanish cheese, and one perfect half of a yellow grape tomato. She sprinkles a pinch of herbs from the tiny dish in the center of the platter and lifts the creation to her mouth.

Watching her mouth while she moans like that transports me instantly back to the night of the storm and suddenly I’m shifting in my seat like I’m fifteen again.

Christ.

“My God, Elliot,” she says, her voice thick with pleasure. “I think we’ve got a hit.”

It’s a charcuterie board, for fuck’s sake. Not an orgy.

My breathing goes fast and shallow and she’s going to notice if I don’t knock it off, so I grab my own plate and start building a sample. I’m less careful, splashing a couple of drops of oil on my wrist as I pile the food together.

“Here,” she says, reaching across the table with her linen napkin. Her fingertips brush the back of my hand as she catches the oil.

I didn’t imagine her gasp this time.

“Sorry, let me just—” Joelle stands like she’s going to leave and I catch her hand before she can step away.

“Joelle.” It’s all I can do not to growl at her and still she won’t meet my eyes. “Joelle.” I wait until she looks at me.

God, her every thought is there for all the world to see. I make a mental note to warn her someday about never playing poker if money’s involved.

It’s all there, everything I was afraid of. Shame, certainly. Nerves most of all. And the one that nearly guts me, fear.

“We need to talk about this,” I say, though I don’t have a goddamn clue what I’m going to say. But I have to make it better. I can’t have her walking around afraid. What is she afraid of, exactly? Of me? God, I couldn’t live with myself.

Joelle jerks her hand away and my world goes a little dark.

“I don’t think we do,” she says coldly. “If you’re going to fire me, I’d appreciate it if you’d just get it over with. No need to drag it out.”

My jaw hits the floor.

“That’s what you’re worried about?”

She glares at me, waiting for the final blow.

“You’re not getting fired. If anything, I owe you an apology.”

Now it’s her turn to be shocked. I’m sorely tempted to trace the O of her open mouth with my fingertips, but now is not the time and this is definitely not the place.

Which reminds me that me and Joelle… we don’t have a time and place, not as long as she works for me. My stomach knots up at the thought.

“I should never have intruded on you and Alex the other night. What you do in your off time is entirely your business. I never meant to make you uncomfortable in any way. It was unprofessional of me and I’m sorry. Doubly so if you actually thought I’d fire you over it.” I force myself to look her in the eye while I say it.

Joelle seems not to know what to think of all this.

“Are you saying…” she starts. She swallows hard and tries again. “Are you saying you don’t—that you didn’t want—”

I reach for her hand, slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she so chooses. Her fingers are delicate, but I have reason to know their strength. Against my better judgment, I lift her hand to my mouth, holding her fingers against my lips for a long moment, not kissing them, not moving. Just to hold her there a moment before I lower her hand and let go.

“I have never wanted any woman the way I want you.”

Her eyes go wide.

“Then,” she says slowly. “Is it Alex? Do you not want—”

I don’t know how to answer that.

Why don’t I know how to answer that?

“Joelle, for as long as you work here, you are safe from me. Do you understand? Your job is not in jeopardy. My actions the other night are my responsibility and mine alone. You’re not at fault here.”

She’s meeting my eyes now, and it does crazy things to my pulse.

“I don’t think ‘fault’ has any part of this,” she says carefully. “But I appreciate your apology, even if I don’t agree you need to give it to me.”

“Will working with me make you uncomfortable? Because I can make arrangements around that.” Meaning I wouldn’t be in the building while she worked. It’ll gut me if she says yes, but I’ll do whatever it takes if it keeps her coming back here.

“Yes,” she says and I think I’m going to die. But then she smiles, a flirtatious half-smile that I’ve never seen from her before. “But not the kind of uncomfortable you mean.”

She’s… Jesus Christ, she’s flirting with me.

I’m so taken aback all I can do is sputter. Joelle has never once, not even for a minute, flirted with me.

Now I know I’m going to die, but for an entirely different reason.

It takes me a minute to stop gawping at her, but when I do, the urge to press is ferocious.

“If I can live with that kind of uncomfortable, you’ll be okay.”

She likes that, the not-quite-confession that I’ve been wanting her all this time. That familiar pink bloom is back in her cheeks.

“Has it been terrible, then, working with me? I did my best to make it as easy as possible.”

“Easy is not the word I’d use,” I say drily. “If anything, you’ve made it so damn hard, half the time I can’t speak.”

The pink spreads across her face.

“That bad, huh?” She says in a faint voice.

“That bad,” I agree.

“Maybe I should apologize.”

“I’d like to see that, sunshine,” I say. My conscience is sitting on my shoulder, hands clamped over his ears and eyes squeezed shut. What the hell am I doing?

“See what, exactly?” she says, fixing herself another bite from the platter between us on the table. She dips her thumb in a drop of oil and brings it to her mouth. “Seems to me you’ve seen plenty already.”

When she licks the oil off, I damn near cream my pants.

“Not enough,” I say.

Joelle lets up, smiling into her napkin.

“Fair enough,” she says.

She doesn’t mention Alex, and she doesn’t appear to be embarrassed any longer, which means I’ve done my job. She’s at ease and she didn’t quit, and she doesn’t—thank Christ—appear to be afraid of me. So now we can get back to work.

Except she’s still moaning into her food. How the hell is any man supposed to think under these conditions?

“Do you always eat like this?”

Joelle looks up, surprised. She swallows the bite down, her delicate throat working and just like that, I’m weak at the thought of seeing her throat move like that under somewhat different circumstances.

“Like what?”

“Like you forgot to put on panties this morning.”

There was a line here somewhere. I crossed it so long ago that I don’t even remember where it was. As long as she keeps smiling at me like this, I can’t seem to stop the words.

“What makes you think I’m wearing panties at all?” says Joelle, that half-smile reappearing for a second. Then she winks.

This is it. I’m going to die. I’m going to die hard and unsatisfied with my heart bursting because she’s so damn sweet. If I could sit right here for the rest of my life flirting with Joelle, I would.

But duty calls in the form of the doorbell, signaling the first of my staff has arrived for the day.

The next severalhours keep me busy, but not busy enough to ignore the drumbeat in the back of my mind spelling out my doom. If I’m not careful, I’m going to lose my head over this girl and I need my wits about me. I still have to save the Duckbill, for one thing. And then there’s the fact that Alex hasn’t called or texted once since he left.

Yet another sign that my new normal is off the rails. Since when do I care if my roommate calls while he’s out of town?

Except he usually does, even if it’s just to check in. And Alex isn’t usually out of town the morning after we spent time together with tandem hard-ons.

Not that I’m thinking about his dick. I’m not. But it wasn’t exactly a typical experience for us. In fact, I’m thinking Joelle’s the first girl he’s laid a hand on since the Ice Bitch left him last year. That makes it a big deal for him, probably. Checking on him is the least I can do.

And this is the third time this afternoon I’ve had this conversation with myself. Once again, instead of sending the damn text, I delete it all. Again. Alex is a grown ass man, capable of taking care of himself.

Leaving things to others isn’t really my style, so I pick up the phone again.

To say what?

Hey dude, remember that time you made a girl come while I watched? Let’s pick a day and do that again.

“Something funny, boss?” says Jimmy at my loud snort.

“Just laughing at myself, Jimmy. If I don’t, who will?”

The rest of the kitchen crew chimes right in with jibes and laughs, as I’d hoped. To hell with it all. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll track Alex down one way or another. It’s not like he’s going to be hard to find.