Chapter 2 #2
“Lea. Lea Harper.” She swallowed hard against the almost lie. But she absolutely couldn’t use her real name in case anyone recognized it from her column.
“Okay, Lea. Why don’t you take first position? We’re about to learn the proper way to chop vegetables. Using the chef’s knife.” Chef Zach reached across the table and picked up a knife about eight inches long.
Properly chop vegetables? Seriously, who did this guy think he was?
But she knew from experience that Zach was an excellent chef. She’d be learning from the best. So, properly chopped vegetables must be part of that. Even though Escargot didn’t take advantage of his talents, she certainly could.
Fine. If she had to chop a bushel of peppers in order to learn, she’d just have to do it. And she needed to focus, not lose track of what Zach was saying. Because she had to stay in this class. Her future depended on it.
Only a few more days and Zach Sullivan could kiss this job goodbye.
As long as he wowed Paul Hawkeye or even Anne Green at the Flavor Fest in two weeks, he would be in high demand.
Not stuck in this dead-end job where his boss all but guaranteed he would never advance to sous chef, despite his years of experience.
Dani had been glad to hear he was coming.
And since he’d said yes, she’d texted almost nonstop about details she was uncertain about.
Zach had a calendar in his apartment marking down the days until he was back on Jonathon Island. He could let his talents really shine. And hopefully ignore any snide remarks from the locals.
Tonight, though, he had to make it through yet another cooking class filled with beginners. At least this bachelorette party wasn’t drunk like the last time he had led one of these. And the kid wasn’t half bad. Speaking of which…
He made his way through the room. “RJ, can I speak to you for a minute?”
The kid’s red head popped up, light-green eyes widened. “Uh, sure.”
Zach tapped his clipboard. “My boss said you haven’t paid the fee for this class and to make sure to collect the money tonight.” In fact, Chef Louie had written in red ink and all caps: NO CHARITY CASES.
RJ ducked his head. “Can I pay it next week? I thought I’d get more in tips, but the front-of-house staff didn’t share them all like they usually do, so I’m short this week.”
How well he knew that feeling. There were plenty of lean weeks while he was putting himself through culinary school.
“You know what? Don’t worry about it. We had someone cancel and forfeit their fee.
I’ll apply that to your account.” And if Chef Louie had a problem with it, Zach would figure something out.
RJ’s eyes opened wide. “Thank you so much!”
Zach looked over the participants.
One of the blondes with the Bridal Squad wasn’t wearing her signature T-shirt.
He’d noticed earlier that she looked familiar, but he couldn’t place her.
He stole another quick glance. A smattering of freckles trailed across her narrow nose and the tops of her round cheeks.
Gray eyes sparkled. Pretty. And he usually remembered pretty girls.
She’d said her name was Lea Harper, but that didn’t ring a bell.
He looked her way again. She had her chef’s knife in both hands as she mangled a red onion.
Pasting on a smile he made his way to her. “Here.” He nudged her aside. “Let me show you.”
She turned to him, knife forward. He put up both of his hands. “Whoa, there. Knife on the bench.”
Her cheeks pinked. “Sorry.” She laid the knife down and stepped back.
“You want to grip the heel end of the blade between your thumb and forefinger and use the rest of your hand to hold the handle.” He demonstrated the technique. “That gives you better control and accuracy.” He chopped one of the onions before setting the knife back on the bench. “Now you try.”
She picked up the knife and fumbled with it a moment. “Like this?”
He reached over and adjusted her fingers so they gripped the blade more appropriately, her fingers cool under his touch. “There you go.”
She sliced another onion, the pieces becoming more uniform as she worked.
“I think you’ve got it.” He looked around the room. Everyone was making good progress. “Not a fan of matching outfits?”
“What?” She turned to him, knife out again.
“Have you got it in for me?”
Her eyes widened and she set the knife down. “Sorry. Again.”
He gestured to the other women. “You aren’t wearing your T-shirt.”
Did her face just get pinker? How much darker could it get?
“Oh. I, um, I’m not with the group. I just arrived at the same time.” She ducked her head and made a big show of carefully cutting a carrot.
“I don’t mean this as a come-on, but do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.” The idea nagged at him.
“I’m new to Chicago.” She started working on the celery. “I’m not from here.”
Not really an answer.
“Neither am I. I’ve bounced around a lot.” It was too bad none of those places ever felt like home. Chicago didn’t either, but it fit the bill for now. “New York, Saratoga Springs, Austin, Seattle before that.”
At the mention of Seattle, she paled so quickly he reached for her elbow. Couldn’t have her passing out in the middle of class.
“Are you okay?”
She tugged her arm back. “I’m fine.”
He let his gaze roam over her face. “Okay. Promise me you’ll let me know if you aren’t feeling well.”
“Could you help me over here?” One of the bridesmaids waved a hand in the air. “I think my pieces are too big.”
While showing the woman how to chop uniform piece sizes on onions, he kept one eye on the rest of the group. The kid, RJ, had moved so he was sharing a workstation with the non-bachelorette.
“First time here?” Lea asked him.
“I’m a dishwasher at The Lion’s Lair, but I want to go to culinary school at Kendall Culinary.” RJ set down his knife and adjusted his apron. “In the meantime, I’m learning all I can. You?”
“First time. This is quite a bit different than my day job.”
“What do you do?”
The bride, Julia, called Zach over and he almost missed Lea’s answer.
“…newspaper.”
He helped Julia for a few minutes. Something nagged at the back of his mind like a mosquito you could hear but not see.
Wait a minute.
It came to him in a rush. Harper. Seattle. Newspaper.
The woman who had tanked his debut restaurant in Seattle had been a newspaper food critic with the last name Harper.
Could this be the same person?
One way to find out. “Ava?” he called across the room. She looked up and met his eye. Guilt immediately filled her gaze. Ducking her head, she furiously chopped at another onion.
His heart rate spiked.
He stalked to her bench.
“Ava Harper?” He pitched his voice low even though he wanted to howl. “You are Ava Harper, right?” She nodded. “I knew I knew you from somewhere.”
She paled. “I don’t—”
“Stop.” He clenched his fist and tapped it on his thigh. One. Two. Three. Four. Keep it conversational, no need to involve the whole class in his business.
Ava opened her mouth. Closed it.
“Trying to tank this job for me like you torpedoed my restaurant? Why are you here?”
She put a fisted hand to her hip. “I would tell you if you’d let me get a word in.”
A burning began in his belly. “Just answer the question.”
“I didn’t even know you were going to be here.” She looked down at the workbench, then picked up her knife and began chopping again. “I signed up for the class, but it didn’t say who the instructor would be. I didn’t even know you lived here.”
He barked out a laugh. “That’s rich. Are you trying to make sure I never work again? To humiliate me with your skills?”
She set her knife on the bench with a slap. He winced. Expensive knives shouldn’t be manhandled like that.
She jabbed him in the sternum with her pointer finger.
On second thought, he was glad she’d put down the knife.
“Look, I don’t know who you think you are, Mr. Almighty Chef.
No. I didn’t follow you here to make you lose your job.
Get over yourself. That thing in Seattle was six years ago.
Six years.” She snapped her mouth shut and glanced past him.
Zach looked around.
Oh.
Nine pairs of eyes had turned in their direction. RJ stood mid-chop, mouth open. A few of the bachelorettes giggled.
He unclenched his fist and forced a smile.
“Sorry, everyone. Sorry. I got a little carried away. Won’t happen again.
” The class dropped their gazes and busied themselves with their work again.
“Lea.” He put a hard emphasis on her fake name, careful to keep his voice down so only she could hear him.
“I should make you show us how to sauté our mirepoix for our first sauce.”
She mumbled a response.
He looked at her. “What was that?”
“I don’t know how to do that.” Her voice was still only a little above a whisper.
He crossed his arms. “I don’t believe you.
Aren’t your parents chefs? I saw them on that luxury yacht show.
I looked them up after they started sharing all your stuff on social media.
” She nodded. “Don’t you write a very successful column in the newspaper not only critiquing restaurants but also telling everyone else how to cook? ”
She nodded again. Squared her shoulders. “But I never learned how to do it.”
He glanced around the room again. No one was paying attention to them. He kept his voice low. “So, you’re telling me you have enough pull to land a job at the Seattle Courier but you don’t know how to cook?” The woman was unbelievable. “Why should anyone ever read your work or trust your opinion?”
She pulled herself together. “Please, keep your voice down.” Her eyes pleaded with him.
“Of course, we wouldn’t want anyone knowing you’re a fraud.
” She couldn’t be serious right now, could she?
“It’s okay for you to ruin my life, but I should protect yours?
” As he spoke, the voice of his Uncle Bryan rang through his mind.
Real men protect the people around them.
Sorry, Uncle Bryan. He didn’t think he could manage that with Ava-slash-Lea.
Not after she’d taken down his restaurant and all his savings with it.
Her eyes flashed with hurt. Shoot. Regret curled through him. He should apologize. Be a better man.
“Lea, I—”
She spoke at the same time. “It wasn’t like that. I—”
“I’m ready with my mirepoix.” Julia appeared at Zach’s elbow. Three bowls full of chopped vegetables jostled in her arms.
“Let’s talk about this later,” he shot over his shoulder and turned to show Julia the stove.
Somehow, he made it through the rest of the class. His gut churned with anger. And guilt. He should have handled that better. Learned to forgive.
When there were five minutes left, he looked up from showing RJ how to finish off his dish with a pat of butter. Ava’s workstation was empty. She must have ducked out early.
Hopefully she’d have the sense not to turn up for part two of these classes next week.