Chapter 10
Miller
My body jumps as the front door unlocks, the whisk in my hand clattering around the metal bowl when I drop it.
I lost track of time. Apparently, I’ve been in the kitchen for hours, ever since I put Max to bed, but the time flew as I got lost somewhere between the butter, sugar, and flour.
Kai’s kitchen is a disaster. I fully intended to clean up by the time he got home, but that sure as shit won’t be happening now.
I watch on the monitor as he checks on his sleeping son before leaving the bedroom, headed straight for me.
I wonder how pissed he’s going to be. I bet he’ll get all red in the face, furrowed brows with wide icy eyes. Flustered Kai is my favorite, and I seem to do a wonderful job of pulling that side out of him.
But I’d enjoy this moment a whole lot more if I wasn’t so flustered myself.
Nothing is working. I’ve attempted four new recipes tonight and they’ve all been hopeless disasters.
The groceries I had delivered? They’re gone, besides the ones I purchased to stock Kai’s lacking pantry and fridge.
Not even a stunning, state-of-the-art kitchen can bring out my creativity.
My last hope is the crème fraiche cheesecake I’ve been working on, but even that is feeling bleak.
“What the hell happened?” Kai’s voice drips with panic.
Turning, I attempt to wipe off some of the flour from my apron but it’s no use. I’m covered. “How’d your game go?”
“It was fine.” Kai doesn’t make eye contact with me; instead, his attention continues to wander over his disaster of a kitchen.
The long exhale that leaves me blows a strand of hair from in front of my eyes, but it falls right back onto my face. “I suck at my job.”
He pauses his confused perusal, his face softening. “Well, my son is alive and you haven’t burnt the house down... yet. I’d say you’re doing okay.”
“That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, but no. Not this job. Not watching Max, but my real job. I suck at it.”
Just then, the oven’s timer beeps. Using the dish towel thrown over my shoulder, I pull out the cookie sheet to find my garnish burnt to a crisp.
“Fuck my life. This is supposed to be a black sesame crumb.”
“Looks like you nailed it. It’s definitely black.”
My eyes narrow at the giant baseball player who looks far too good leaning a shoulder on the fridge and watching me.
“It’s not even the main dessert. It’s just a garnish. I can’t even get the garnish right. What is wrong with me?” I toss the cookie sheet onto the counter.
I’m not a crier. I don’t get attached enough to cry, but I had an attachment forming to what I thought was going to be the recipe to pull me out of my rut. Head falling back, I close my eyes, attempting to swallow down my disappointment.
That is, until I feel two long arms, corded with muscles, swallow me whole in a hug. My eyes pop open to find a gray T-shirt pulled taut over a chest that my face is buried in.
“You’re okay,” he says, soothingly. It’s spoken in a way he might say those words to his son if he fell and bumped his head. It’s gentle and steady, and works far too well on my chaotic brain.
I melt into him, my arms sliding around his lean waist. “You smell good.”
His chest rumbles against my cheek. “I showered after the game this time.”
“Does that mean you trust me with your son?”
“Don’t ask me that, Montgomery. You’re in a fragile state, and I’d have to lie to you so I don’t feel bad.”
“Kai?”
“Hmm?”
“Why are you hugging me?”
He exhales, my body moving against his with the movement. “I don’t know. You seemed like you needed one. I’ve been told I’m a fixer so I guess it was instinct.”
He might be onto something because I have a feeling if there were something that could fix me, it’d be the deep timbre of his voice accompanied by his stable hold.
“What’s going on?” he gently asks, rubbing a hand over my bare back.
“I’m a joke. No one is going to hire me again.
They’re going to pull me from the cover, all because I can’t make a goddamn garnish for a goat milk fromage blanc which is basically just a garnish in and of itself.
I can’t even make a garnish for the garnish!
I hadn’t even gotten to the cheesecake yet. ”
He pauses, clearly lost for words. When he finally finds them, he hits me with, “Well, if we’re being candid here, who the hell wants goat cheese as a dessert anyway?”
I chuckle into his chest. “It’s so hot that you somewhat understood that.”
“Want to explain to me why the tattooed nanny without a filter is speaking like she owns a Michelin star restaurant?”
Pulling away from his hold, I instantly miss the reassurance. With just that simple hug, I understand a bit of what it is about Kai that my dad likes so much. He’s solid. He’s stable.
“Sorry.” I gesture to his shirt that’s now as covered in flour as I am. “I don’t own a Michelin star restaurant, but I do help kitchens earn them.”
Behind his glasses, I can see the confusion.
“I’m hired out as a contract employee. Chefs hire me for three months at a time to come into their kitchens and fix their dessert programs, typically in hopes of earning a star.
Some chefs are excellent at both their dinner and dessert menus, and some just don’t have the knack for the sweets. That’s where I come in.”
“So, Miami...”
“I was working in a kitchen there, but I kept fucking everything up. I decided to take the summer off to get ready for my next project. It’s my biggest one yet.”
“And what is this cover you’re so worried about?”
“The cover of Food & Wine magazine. And I’m assuming the headline will read something to the effect of”—I gesture in front of me, as if I were spelling it out—“Miller Montgomery. Can’t bake for shit.”
He nods in understanding. “It’s catchy. I think it’ll sell well.”
A bit of my internal frustration leaves me with the laugh that bubbles from my lips. Like a shot to the chest, the realization hits me that I could potentially like Kai. Especially if he keeps acting all charming and supportive instead of being overbearing about his kid.
“Well, if it counts for anything, I’m thoroughly impressed.”
“Oh good.” I drop my shoulders. “I’ll expect an excerpt from you in my interview. ‘Baseball pitcher from Chicago wonders who the hell would want goat cheese as a dessert, but is impressed nonetheless.’”
“Texas, actually.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m from Texas. Austin, to be specific.”
It’s something so small. Such a minuscule fact in the grand scheme of it all, but hearing Kai willingly share information beyond his son’s favorite snack or sleep routine holds a weight I didn’t expect.
“Country boy, huh?”
The mental picture of him in Wranglers, much in the way he wears his baseball pants, is doing all sorts of things to my imagination.
“Miller.”
“Hmm?”
“You’re sexualizing me in your mind right now, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
The corner of his lips tick.
“Your parents, are they still in Texas?”
He begins to gather the dishes I made a mess of, completely ignoring my question. “Why don’t you head out. I’ll clean this up. I don’t want Monty to chew my ass out tomorrow at practice because you woke him when you got home too late. Thanks for your help tonight. I hope Max was okay for you.”
“He was an angel. I truly have no idea where he inherited that from.”
Kai’s back vibrates, but he doesn’t give me the satisfaction of hearing his laugh.
“And so you know, I’m not staying at my dad’s.”
Standing by the sink, Kai’s eyes dart to mine over his shoulder.
“I’m staying in my van in his parking garage.”
“Downtown?”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
A disbelieving laugh escapes me. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not staying in a garage in downtown Chicago, Miller. You can stay in my guest room.”
“No thanks.”
“Miller.” His tone bites. “Do not fight me on this.”
I roll my eyes. “You might be a dad, but you’re not mine.”
“Do you need me to call yours so he can tell you how out of your goddamn mind you are?”
“Really, Kai? You’re going to call my dad and tell on me? I’m a little too old for that, don’t you think?”
“If that’s what it takes to keep you safe, then yes. You’re being ridiculous. Stay in my guest room or sleep on his couch. Why would you live in your fucking car?”
Because it keeps me detached. It’s my own space, one with wheels that can take me far away from anything or anyone.
My career isn’t conducive to relationships.
I love my dad, but I refuse to get attached to having him so close.
He needs me to stay away so he can live the life he was always meant to live before I came along.
Kai pulls his hands out from the sink, drying them on a towel. “You going to tell me what this is all about?”
“No.”
“Cool.” He nods his head. “Good talk.”
The tension from our argument begins to dissipate when a smile creeps across my lips.
“Don’t make me laugh right now. I’m annoyed with you.” He points an accusatory finger at me. “I have plenty of space in my side yard. If you’re so hell-bent on living out of your car, will you park there at least? I have water and electrical hookups, and then I’d know—”
“Okay.”
His brows shoot up, surprised I’d give in so fast, I guess. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He exhales a long breath, turning back to the sink. “And just so you know, the only reason I care about this is because it’d be really hard to get a new nanny this late in the season. It has absolutely nothing to do with you as a person. I just want to make that clear.”
That smile I was trying to hide is fully exposed now. “Charming.”
“Now help me clean up from the tornado that came through my kitchen while you tell me more about this job you suck at so badly.”
Using the nearest dish towel, I wind it back, whipping it against his ass.
“Nice try, Miller. But it’s all muscle. I didn’t feel a thing.”