Chapter 19 #2
“Thank you, it was amazing,” I say. “You know I might have ruined myself. I might never be able to come again unless I can hear your voice.”
“I can live with that,” he says quietly, and his meaning seeps into me, wrapping me in a warm hug.
“Me too,” I whisper. Then it hits me that I just called him and didn’t ask what he was doing. What if . . . “Um, Andrés . . . sorry, did I disturb you? Were you in the middle of something?”
“Yes, I’m in a team meeting working out where we’re playing this year. Gabriel and Linden are here, they say hi.”
“What the fuck, no!” My skin goes cold. What have I fucking done?
“Don’t worry, I didn’t put you on speakerphone.”
Fucking hell, may the gods take me now. Why the fuck didn’t he say something or leave the room? Only then do I hear him laughing.
“You’re actually fucking kidding me, aren’t you?” I demand and he laughs some more.
“Relax, I’m at home making an equipment list of everything we need and finding suppliers.”
“Oh phew, well that wasn’t funny, Andrés.”
“Neither is leaving me with a boner so hard I could hit polo balls with it.”
“Sorry. Can I help with that?”
“No, I actually do have a meeting in five minutes, so I can’t do anything about it. I’ll have to live with the sticky mess you’ve made me until later.”
“Shit, sorry,” I say but he laughs.
“Stop saying sorry, and I like that you needed me. It was very hot to hear that desperation in your voice.” I know he can’t see me but I smile at his words. I’m not ashamed I called him, certainly not now I know he wasn’t in company.
“What did you say to me in Spanish?”
“Do you really want to know?” he asks.
“Yeah, of course.”
“When I see you I’m going to fuck you so hard you pass out,” he says.
My smile widens into a feral grin. I could live with that too.
The first person I see when I leave my room is Avery, and I inwardly groan.
He gave me hell after the incident in the hospitality tent.
I never told him any facts or confirmed anything he guessed, but he did a pretty good job of piecing it together correctly.
However, since New Year he’s been hooking up with Pawel, the new ski instructor, so I’m old news, especially as he hasn’t seen me with anyone else, nor will he.
“Hi, Angie says she wants to see you,” he says and I frown.
“Did she say when?” I haven’t got any meetings planned with her until early next week.
“No, but I got the impression she wanted to see you soon.” The way he says “soon,” making it sound quite ominous, worries me, and I switch my plans to find a lift into town and go to visit her instead.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask after I knock on her office door and she invites me in.
“I did, please sit.” I do as she asks, trying to gauge what she’s thinking. “Now, you know I think your work has always been exemplary, and you’ve handled the staff and the rotas well.”
“Yes,” I say hesitantly. This sounds like it might be leading up to a “but.” Is she going to fire me? Has someone complained about me? I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong, except for breaking the rules over Andrés, but that was weeks ago.
“I hope you like it here; you’ve always said you do,” she continues. “So I’d like you to stay on, extend your contract.”
“Oh, I thought you were going to fire me,” I blurt out, surprised that the “but” didn’t come.
“Fire you? Why would I do that?” she asks, sharp enough to pick up on what I’ve said.
“No reason,” I say hastily and her face relaxes again.
“No, I’m not going to fire you. In fact, I want to offer you a promotion. Head chef.”
“Head chef?”
“Yes, Conal is moving on and I can’t think of anyone more competent, and of course, if you think there’s anyone in the team who would make a good sous chef .
. .” she continues but I only half listen.
I’m being offered the head chef position.
Not my own restaurant, but the next best thing.
It’s a position I’ve wanted, and I know she’ll let me add my own creations.
I might even make a name for myself here.
Had she offered me this a month ago I would have jumped at the chance.
But not now. I do want to be head chef, but I also want to give what’s growing between me and Andrés a chance.
If it means I have to be third chef somewhere for a while to have Andrés, it’s better than being head chef here but alone.
“Sorry, Angie. I’m going to finish my contract and then I’m going home,” I say and she regards me silently for a minute.
“The pay offer is very good, with bonuses and insurance,” she says eventually, trying to appeal to my financial good sense as complimenting my work hasn’t worked.
“I appreciate the offer, Angie, I really do. But it’s time for me to go home.” Again the homesick feeling rises and suddenly I can’t wait to leave.
“Alright.” She nods, accepting my refusal. “But I will be sorry to see you go.”
I leave her office feeling like the next two weeks are going to stretch forever.
I haven’t heard back from my friend Paul, so I shoot him another message.
By the time I’ve walked back to my room his answer comes through and I sigh.
He’s in the process of moving so can’t offer me anywhere right now.
With trepidation I make a call, hoping that six years won’t have made a difference.
“Auntie Lizzie, it’s Simon,” I say as soon as she answers.
“Simon! How are you? Are you alright?” She almost squeals down the phone.
“I’m fine, Auntie. But if your offer still stands, I need your help.”