Chapter Four
Ruby
I grip my bandage tightly against my finger. My fingers flick at the corner of the plaster, keeping it secure. The cookery day with the retired businesswomen is into its second hour, and it’s finally going well, but I can’t stop peeling this thing.
Garett Kelsey, number one on my list of hot chefs, stares at me, but his wild eyes and snarling mouth don’t dampen his sexiness one bit. It’s impossible to look away from the hint of a beard that highlights the sharp cut of his jawline. His big brown eyes are mesmerising. None of that matters, though, because the guy is a grade-A arsehole.
The day has only improved for clients because of his charm and cooking skills. My day continues to get worse. I want to tell him that I’m not useless in the kitchen and that it was anxiety that caused my accident. I should have smoothed over our argument earlier, too, for Amber and the cookery school’s sakes, but he won’t talk to me.
He rolls his eyes before returning to his focaccia dough. That’s the most attention I’ve had from him since he shouted at me.
“Keep folding it like this,” he says to the ladies gathered around him. His smile is broad and welcoming. “Now, you want to really stretch the dough. Imagine you’re on a date with a young suitor, and you’re seducing him with your hands.”
One of the women giggles.
“Marjorie over there knows what I’m talking about,” he says with a wink.
I study his broad hands and thick forearms as he works the dough. His muscles are taut with each movement. My gaze travels up his arms to his swollen biceps. No chef should look like he does.
Ruby, all men are dicks, remember? Especially this one.
“Now, ladies, I want to let you into a secret,” he says. “Come closer.”
The ladies instantly do as he requests. His apron, displaying the cookery school’s cloud logo, is wrapped around him in a way that highlights his frame. Mine makes me feel a bit more homely than it does sexy, but his clings to his washboard stomach.
“I had a lot of fun experiences when I worked in kitchens when I was younger,” he reveals in a voice so seductive I have to stop myself from staring in shock.
He’s as gorgeous as social media suggests. His eyelashes frame his big brown eyes, and his whole face lights up when he smiles. It’s as if everyone in the room stops breathing to soak up his presence.
His voice drops to a rough timbre. “My favourite customers were ladies more mature than me. One night, after we closed the restaurant, a couple of infamous actors stayed for a lock-in.”
Betty, one of the pensioners who’s given him the eye for the last hour, gasps.
“One of the actors was stunning. So beautiful, the kind of woman who has wisdom and experience. It gave her that glow that was impossible to resist. She was absolute trouble, too. Within minutes of locking the doors, I was dancing on the bar with her.”
“Who was it?” Betty asks.
He cocks his finger, and Betty shuffles closer. His eyes twinkle. “Surely, you know that a gentleman never tells.”
The group giggles while jostling each other. One of them fans themselves as he pulls and stretches the dough. I lick my lips, my head tilting as I stare at the slow and gentle way he grips it.
“But I will tell you, ladies, that she tried to take me home with her. I nearly went, but I wouldn’t have kept up. She was feral, like all sexy older women are.”
Cue raucous laughter from his new fifteen fangirls. Fanladies?
I laugh along with them, although if Amber were here, she’d elbow me for the worst fake laugh in England. I’ve got to do something to make him talk to me and to hide my crushed confidence.
Garett’s gaze snaps to me, and it’s full of daggers. I choke on my breath. I splutter and cough, which makes his stare worse. I ease myself out of the room, bumping into Wicksy. The rosemary he’s preparing for the group tickles my nose as I hide in a corner behind Kath.
“It’s okay, Ruby, sweetheart,” Kath murmurs as she rubs my back. The air conditioning whirs in the background, and I grip the edges of my suit jacket—well, Amber’s suit jacket. It barely gives me room to breathe as it is. It’s too big for her slight frame but fits like a straitjacket on me. Yet it still fits better than the pencil skirt my arse tests the seams of. “What you saw earlier was a blip. Garett isn’t always this grumpy.”
“Yes, he is,” Wicksy replies. His wavy hair bounces as he carries the plates of rosemary to the ladies. He looks like the adored social media influencer and fitness coach Joe Wicks. I’m guessing that’s the reason for the nickname. “The way he is with the clients, especially the female ones, is different from how he treats us.”
“It wasn’t all my fault,” I say quietly in case Garett has impressive hearing to accompany his skills in seducing older women. “He wasn’t answering his phone, and Amber couldn’t help because her head was stuck in a toilet bowl. The diary said it was a children’s party.”
“I know. And the way you set up the room was so sweet.” Kath moves around the table, effortlessly adding things to it for lunch. She’s done this for so long that she could do it in her sleep. Sparkling cutlery and glasses of water turn the blue space into something suitable for a banquet.
The same space was laid out three hours earlier with party games and balloons. Amber never makes mistakes, but the children’s party is next week, not today. “As soon as I saw that it wasn’t a group of children coming through the door, I should have changed my plans.”
I collapse into a chair.
“The huffs of the group this morning were like the noises the women who don’t like my chat-up lines make,” Wicksy adds before collecting the next batch of rosemary.
“I tried my best.”
“Yes, you did. Amber will be proud of you,” Kath coos.
“I shouldn’t have let them fluster me.”
“You shouldn’t have demonstrated how to hold a knife if you weren’t sure,” Wicksy says with a shrug.
“I am sure.” I press my lips together and breathe through my nose. There’s no point explaining that my mobile was vibrating in my pocket the entire time because Neil was calling every five minutes. I know how to be professional, and I would have turned my phone off if not for Amber’s sickness and Garett not returning my calls. “But I panicked when Betty asked who she could complain to, and then she knocked that knife. The most important rule of grandma’s kitchen was never to catch a falling knife. She taught me that when I was a child, and I’ve never tried to catch one.”
“We all make mistakes, Ruby, love,” Kath replied. She was grandma’s best friend until she died. Kath should have retired, but she’s followed the cookery school from its former home in my parents’ garden to here and has shown no signs of leaving. “I know you’re a fantastic baker. This morning was first day nerves and a lot of anxiety.”
“Garett doesn’t see it that way. He’s treating me like an unwanted guest at a family party, a feeling I’m not alien to after the last couple of years. I tried to start afresh and introduce myself to him properly. Instead, he looks at my hand and walks away without a word.”
“Because he’s a grumpy bastard.” Wicksy stands beside me and gives me those damn puppy dog eyes again. “But I’m not.”
“Can I have some help in here?” Garett yells.
“See,” Wicksy adds, elbowing me before shouting, “Yes, Chef.”
◆◆◆
Garett sets the ladies to work on the bread with another quip and a wink.
I make fake dough with my hands to reduce my anxiety as he swaggers around the kitchen, giving the women tips and tricks to add flavour or stop the dough from sticking to their hands. I could pick up some techniques for my baking from the renowned chef, but I’m like a can of soda that has been dropped and people are too scared to open it because it will explode everywhere. “Stop picking at the edge of your plaster, or you’ll undo your bandage,” Kath whispers.
I pull myself up to my total, albeit short, height. “I’m going to make Garett like me,” I announce. “Normally, everyone likes me, including animals. I’m going to make this day better, and I’m going to get him onside.”
“Ruby,” Kath tries to soothe me, but I won’t listen.
Wicksy crosses his arms and shakes his head. “He’s going to destroy you.”
I squeeze my lips tightly and tap my hand against my thigh as I hover near the workstation where Garett presses the dough. He grabs at flour and flutters his fingers. It falls like a powdery white waterfall onto the counter. It’s bad enough that he’s not following the brief Amber gave me, which she warned me might happen before she hurled her breakfast, but to make it worse, he’s sexy even when arrogant.
I roll my eyes, but as he turns to face me, I laugh as if his prowess enamours me. All that earns me is a glare.
“Let’s try this again. Hi, Garett. I’m Ruby.” He stares right through me, and I offer a glowing smile. “Could you tell me what I need to get prepped next?”
He blinks so slowly that I take a brief second to study his rosy lips. They’re as kissable as his handful of TikTok videos suggest. I run my tongue along my bottom lip, imagining that he tastes like he smells, as if cinnamon has been mixed with honey and drizzled on my skin. These fantasies are just memories. The man in front of me is nothing like the one I used to crush on.
“Could you maybe give me a clue?” I stutter as I attempt to tuck my tongue back where it belongs.
He raises an eyebrow and glares. “Here’s a clue—”
“Please, help me with the dough, lovely Chef Garett. I’d hate to have a soggy bottom,” Betty says with a laugh.
Instantly, he walks around me as if I’m a post dropped rudely in his path, muttering, “Here’s a clue. Knives are sharp. Don’t try to catch them.”
The scent of freshly baked bread is like an aura around him, but even as the smell fills my lungs, anger rips through my skin.
“There’s no chance you’d have a soggy bottom, Betty.”
His laughter rumbles through the room, and Betty joins in. I fight the temptation to stamp my feet. I want to do my job, make Amber proud, and rebuild the broken bridges with my family. That I wanted to improve my skills from watching his sessions was a mistake. I’m sure he knows techniques I’ve struggled with, but he’d be too arrogant to show me.
“I’m here today as a ringer. I’m not as old as the rest of them. I’m five years younger,” Betty says with a click of her fingers.
He cocks an eyebrow, a smirk across his face. “So why are you here today?”
She pulls a piece of paper from her pocket. I busy myself clearing Garett’s bowls at his demonstration counter. Usually, Kath would do it, but I can spy on how Garett works and maybe decipher what he’s planning next.
Betty stretches a gold and blue printed flyer onto the worktop, smoothing the creases. “Chef Clive, a god among men, is running a competition on Christmas Eve. He’s looking for an amateur who can bake the ultimate Christmas goodies.”
Garett’s face freezes, but Betty continues. Out of the corner of my eye, I study how he fixes his jaw and scowls at the dough that he’s now pummelling like he’s in a boxing ring. He lifts and smacks it down before stretching it. He does this again and again while Betty tells him about the competition. Flour flies into the air with every slam. It collects in his hair and sticks to his beard as the sound echoes through the kitchen.
“The best part is that the winner will be invited to work in his restaurant. Applications close tomorrow, so I want to perfect my skills.”
Garett remains silent.
“You used to work for Clive,” Betty says, confirming my thoughts. His eyes blaze as he thumps the dough. “You must have learnt so much from him.”
He pulls and shoves at the dough. He doesn’t deserve my rescue, yet I’m walking towards him. I whisper to my feet to stay still and mind their own business, but they don’t listen. I’m drawn to the moment like my younger brother was drawn to fresh out-of-the-oven pizza, though the tomato would burn his mouth.
Betty’s curls bounce. “And Clive has that special pasta recipe, too, right? His food is sublime. My friends treated me to a meal at his award-winning restaurant the other week. Sadly, they didn’t serve the special pasta, but I still felt like a queen. What was he like as a boss and teacher? Did you learn a lot of your skills from him?”
I put on my most sunshine voice as I scoot closer. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I speak with Garett briefly?”
“If you must,” Betty replies between pursed lips. Her beady eyes don’t leave us as Garett follows me to the corner of the kitchen area.
“So?” Garett snaps.
“So…” I elongate the word, unsure what to add. I’ve helped him out of a conversation he didn’t want to be in and stopped him from overworking Betty’s focaccia. Garett fists his hands as if he’s still working the dough. That’s what I do, but I do it when I’m anxious. He looks more like the Incredible Hulk trying to beat up the air. “So was that story true, about the British television actor? Who was it?” I press on the smile I used with Neil’s boring family.
His brown eyes pin me, and he grits his teeth. His dark beard highlights rather than hides his sharp jawline. I swallow loud enough to warn my sister to send reinforcements. I’m picking at my plaster again.
“The television actor?” I squeak. He presses his lips together and cocks his head to the side. “I was trying to help. Look, you’ll have to talk to me sooner or later. I’m managing this school until Christmas in Amber’s absence.”
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” he seethes. “Maybe you should spend less time gossiping and ‘trying to help’ and more time running this place. And you can start with the boxes of decorations in the foyer, which are a trip hazard. Are you trying to destroy the cookery school with accident after accident, or is that a happy coincidence?”
I cover my mouth, but a gasp still escapes. Garett’s rugged lips are more like a wrinkly bum as he aims his wrath at me.
“Wicksy told me to leave them there and that he’d sort them out.”
“Wicksy wants to get in your pants. He’ll say a lot but do nothing. Have you run a cookery school before?” I shake my head and attempt to explain the cooperative bakery, but he cuts me off before I can utter a syllable. “I should have known. Bloody ridiculous. I won’t continue to work here if you stay. Either you go, or I go. Now get out of my sight before you ruin this day any more.”
He spins on his heel, dismissing me, and I run from the room