Chapter Eleven
Garett
Ruby’s wearing jeans and a woolly jumper today. The weather has turned. It’s a couple of weeks until Halloween, and a chill in the air makes me regret wearing the blue shirt that Flora once joked brings out my naturally tanned skin and brown hair. I’m not wearing it for anyone’s benefit and certainly not for the woman who turns skinny jeans and a fitted pink jumper into the sexiest casual outfit ever.
“Everything going to plan?” I ask as she walks past me to the dining area.
She hasn’t mentioned the note, flowers, or lasagne, and I’m totally okay with that because I asked her not to. But still, she could have said something.
I’ve noticed the dish from the cookery school has been returned, so I guess she ate it, unless she tossed it away. But even if she hated me, she wouldn’t bin one of my specialities.
“Well done for keeping your cool earlier,” Kath whispers as the children giggle at their freshly made cupcakes.
“Who brings ten children to a baking bread and cakes birthday session and only then mentions that one of the children is vegan and prone to vomit if they eat bread?” I huff. “They should have told us in advance because we want to make the sessions work for everyone.”
“I know, but you behaved well. They’d have no idea that you were about to reprimand them.”
“Only because you glared at me.” And because I was distracted by Ruby and her pink jumper, which is the same colour as the lilies I gave her.
One of the children reaches for their fresh out of the oven rolls.
“Don’t—”
“Hey, Cammie, leave it a little longer. They’re going to taste so good,” Ruby jumps in and smiles at the child. That’s the fifth time that child has tried to burn herself today, but Ruby has been excellent at keeping her safe and happy. “You can all start decorating your vegan brownies now, like Chef Garett showed you. Let your creativity shine. You’ve got fifteen minutes.”
I am useless around children, especially all these giggly, hazard-prone ones, but Ruby’s party games and sunshine attitude have made today a smash.
“Ruby has shone today. She told me it took a while to get over her difficult first day.” We both know that is a reference to my attitude. “But she’s happier, partly because she ate the best lasagne she’s ever tasted this week.”
“Really? She said that?” I pull back my shoulders and puff my chest out. She liked it. I must remind myself that it doesn’t mean she likes me, but maybe she doesn’t hate me anymore.
“Yes,” Kath replies. “She won’t tell me where she got it from, though. Although it’s all she talked about when we were setting up.”
“Lucky Ruby.”
“Indeed.” Her lips quirk.
As the children decorate their cakes and Kath busies herself, I stroll over to Ruby, who is fiddling with something in the corner.
I want to swagger, but I also meant what I said in the note.
“Everything is going brilliantly. Well done for today,” I whisper.
She blushes and I close my eyes briefly. Blushing Ruby is hot. “Yeah, it’s all good. I’m getting the party bags ready, and the parents will be here to collect the children in about fifteen minutes. Are you finished with them?”
“Yes. Kath is packing their baking into boxes they can take home.”
My gaze sweeps the kitchen. Every child beams as they ice their vegan brownies. I’m not sure Ruby needed me today. She’s created a masterclass.
We’ve spoken a few times today, and it’s purely professional, but I want to make her like me. “You said party bags? We’ve never done those before.”
Her shoulders relax, and she moves so we’re side by side at the counter. I’m aware of how much shorter she is than me. Again, I remember last week’s thought of lifting her onto my counter. Stop it, Garett. She’s a human, not a sex object.
“Yeah, party bags. I discussed it with Amber. A couple of treats like sprinkles, cupcake mix, and some Halloween bits to go with a flyer about our adult Halloween cookery class. We still have a few spaces to fill, and their parents might see the flyers and book with us.”
“You must be knackered. How late were you up last night making these?” It explains the dark circles under her eyes. I was worried she was talking to her ex. Not that I care. I don’t date colleagues. I don’t date anyone.
She’s tricky to hear because she is shorter, but when I met one of Flora’s friends, I learned that you don’t bend down to talk to shorter people unless you want them to kick you in the nuts. “I’ve no idea. I was baking brownies for Amber, as it’s one of the few things she can stomach now.” She’s too bloody kind and lovely and not a woman who’d want to spend too long chatting to me, but I can’t walk away. She’s like a breath of fresh air for my soul. “And I was doing other stuff.”
“What other stuff?” I shove another piece of gum in my mouth and chew slowly as I recall her hold ups. “Doesn’t matter.”
“Hold on.” She grabs one of the steps we get out for people who want to be a little higher to reach the various areas of the kitchen. She stands on it, and it brings her to my height. “That’s better.”
Her eyes meet mine, and I chew faster. At this height, I could kiss her. As if she’d ever be interested in kissing me, a washed-up grumpy chef.
“In terms of the other stuff… I was wondering if you’d help me with something. I’ve watched some of your videos, and your skills are amazing. I know you said not to talk about it so you don’t lose your grumpy chef reputation, but”—her voice drops to a whisper, forcing me to lean in—“your lasagne was incredible.”
“Yeah?” I grin and blush red. I’m needier than Cookie when he’s told he’s a good dog. “For sure?”
“It was the best thing I’d ever had in my mouth.”
My eyes widen, and my jaw drops.
“Shit, I didn’t mean… Like, I’ve had other things in my mouth and…”
I ready myself to tease her, but one of the children asks a question, and I put on my professional chef face and turn towards her bench while trying to wash my imagination out with soap and water.
I give Ruby one last brief look over my shoulder. Her face is in her hands, and she whispers in agony, “Oh God.”
◆◆◆
Even though the children have gone and I’m all packed up, I busy myself looking at menus for the next session. Maybe I can flirt a bit more with Ruby and find out what she wants my help with.
“You can go home, Garett. We’re all done,” Kath comments. “I’m about to lock up.”
“I was just checking the menus.”
“No, he wasn’t,” Wicksy replies as Ruby puts her coat on. She has a sparkly gift bag in her hand. “He’s wondering if any of the single mums had left their numbers for him.”
Ruby’s eyebrows shoot up. “Does that happen often?”
“Hold on—” I stutter.
“Most weeks,” Wicksy replies as Ruby cocks her head to stare at me. “There’s at least one or two. There were loads after that hen party we had once.”
“And does he call them?”
“Ask him yourself.”
Ruby shakes her head. “Nah, I don’t need to hear about his conquests.”
“I’m standing right here,” I grumble as Kath pushes us out the door.
“We know,” Ruby cheeks. “With those seductive forearms and that little brown curl that falls on your forehead when you cook. I’ve seen the videos on TikTok.”
I turn and stare at her. “Are you a fan of mine? Were you the one who used to put filthy comments under them?”
Kath locks up, and Wicksy disappears into his car.
She giggles. “No, and I certainly didn’t have your poster on my wall or kiss it the night before I went to sleep.”
“I’ve never been famous enough to have posters.”
“And I’ve never been creepy enough to print my own,” she says with a laugh and a wink.
A weird flush of something grows in my belly. She’s fucking funny, and although I should be going home, I just want to stand like this with her all night. I haven’t laughed like this for months.
“Back to what I was saying before—”
“About things in your mouth?” She shoves me with her shoulder. “All I meant was your lasagne was tasty.”
“Tasty like a chef’s forearms or tasty like…”
Her laugh is like a squeal, and she quickly covers her mouth.
“What the hell was that?”
“Nothing. Anyway , I’d really like to get your expertise,” Ruby adds with fluttering eyelashes.
I can’t help that my mouth drops open at this point. I’m really without control of anything around her. “My expertise?” Please mean my expertise with my hands.
“Yes, but before I tell you with what, I want to thank you for the lasagne and flowers with some of my cupcakes.”
“Do these have your boobs on?” Her brow furrows, and I have to backtrack. “Remember when you said that you made boob-shaped cookies the other week? I didn’t mean your boobs.” I close my eyes. I can’t look at her chest right now. I’m not that guy. “I meant boobs you’d made…” I trail off before digging a bigger hole.
She throws her head back and laughs. “I do now. You know, you’re blushing as pink as the beautiful lilies you left me. No, these are just normal cupcakes. I want to butter you up before I ask for your expertise properly. Once you’ve eaten them, I shall make my request.”
She hands me the bag. Her fingers brush mine accidentally, but I still get a little jolt in my belly. Does she feel it, too?
“Catch you next time, Garett.” She waves and walks off. I guess she didn’t.
I’m left staring at her as she gets in her crappy car with the broken light and drives out of the car park.
“She’s a whirlwind of joy, isn’t she?” Kath calls out, catching me frozen in wonder. “At this rate, you’ll be known as Garett, the formerly grumpy chef, by Christmas.”
I nod, although it’s more likely that I’ll be known as Garett, the permanent blushing awkward chef.