Chapter 7 #2
“Huh,” Jude pictured the restaurant kitchens both he and Rob were more used to.
“Coming here must have felt like slumming it, for you.” Even with new appliances, a pub kitchen was a million miles from the ones in Rob’s father’s restaurants.
The disparity in their backgrounds was a thought that still lingered.
Even the judges of the contest commented on how Jude worked best with cheap ingredients, while if Rob could find a way to add gold leaf to a dish, he would.
“I can’t picture you at an auction, picking up second-hand shit for pennies.
It’s not exactly lifestyles of the rich and famous, is it?
” And that was how he’d pictured Rob since they first met, flashy in a way that dazzled, his smile as bright as the stars Jude later spent long nights alone under, and just as out of his reach.
Now Rob removed a crate of shellfish from the refrigerator and placed it next to the sink.
His glance Jude’s way was considering. “Turns out what I grew up learning first stuck more than anything I learned later. I’m much more frugal when I’m spending my own money.
” He gestured at the new steel worktop. “What was here before was fine for a pub kitchen, but I wanted to start as we were going to continue; professional rather than…”
“Basic.” Jude knew there was no point hiding from that truth.
This place had been designed with fry-ups in mind, not five-star cuisine.
His gaze snagged on something hanging from a hook on the back of the door.
“That’s…” he crossed the room to grab it.
“‘Kiss the cook’,” he said quietly, reading the front of his mum’s old apron.
He tied it on before coming back to the counter.
“Uh….” Rob seemed to forget what he’d been saying before he gestured at the crate.
“Keeping the costs down has a lot to do with this lunch, as well.” He sorted through its contents, selecting the best of the shellfish along with the lobster.
“Doing a deal with Carl is one way to keep a tight rein on the budget that could pay off.”
Jude helped himself to a knife and started to clean hairy mussels. “You’ll be lucky to get a discount from him, long term. He drives a hard bargain.”
“Well, it’s worth a try. To be honest, I’d pay out of my own pocket for the best quality fish when we reopen.
” He worried at his lower lip, teeth very white against it.
“You know how word-of-mouth works. The first clients are going to make or break us.” He’d make his lip bleed if he bit it any harder, Jude thought as Rob added, “So much rides on their first impressions.”
“You mean on reviews in the local paper?”
“Maybe, if we’re lucky. Any publicity would be amazing.
” His huff was almost a laugh. “It’s a bit different from when Dad opens a new restaurant.
He gets every restaurant critic for miles clamouring for a reservation.
Did you see how many bookings we’ve got?
” He formed a zero with a finger and thumb.
“Yeah, it turns out that without Michelin stars like Dad’s under my belt, it’s hard to drum up any interest.”
There was no way to ignore such genuine worry.
It went a long way towards Jude making an honest offer in return.
“It doesn’t all have to be on your shoulders.
Coming home to find all of this…” He gestured around the kitchen and towards the window where the headland was visible.
“It was all one hell of a shock. All of it. You being here, the storm damage, everything. I can’t say I’m pleased about all of it, but you have to know I’ll help while I’m back. ”
“Yeah?” For almost the first time all day, Jude saw the slow blossom of that wide smile directed his way.
The ground wasn’t done shifting under Jude’s feet yet, off-balance all over again.
Rob set down his knife and grasped Jude’s shoulder.
“That means a lot. Thank you.” He slid his hand lower to where Louise had just prodded, the pad of his thumb pressed to the same spot.
“Your sister was right, by the way. This is different.” He curled his hand around Jude’s biceps. “I noticed right away.”
Jude met his gaze, lost in its dark depth until Rob stuttered. “I-I mean, you always look good to me.” Rob dropped his hand and shook his head once as if it needed clearing, his expression complex. “Looked, I mean. You always looked good to me before.”
He drew away just as Jude asked, “Yeah?”
Maybe Rob heard something in that one raw word.
Instead of putting more distance between them, he drifted even closer.
“Yes,” he admitted, just as candid. “From the first time I saw you. It was at that meet and greet at the start of the contest. You were talking to my dad. Or listening to him while he talked, at least.” His brow furrowed.
“Yeah, you listened to him. He loves that. He really does.” There was a repeat of that complex expression.
“I wanted to know what you were talking about so bad that I tried to butt in.”
“You did?”
“See? You don’t even remember, too engrossed with him to even notice I existed.”
Jude thought back. “Oh. He asked about my signature dish.” Now that he thought about it, Rob’s dad had worn the same rapt expression as Rob did now, gaze so intense the rest of the world faded. “He said he might add it to his lunch menu.”
“Do you have any idea how many times he let me change his menus?”
Jude shook his head.
“Never. He never ever let me; I’d do it anyway, and he’d go ballistic. It’s why we worked in different kitchens. If we were together, it always ended in carnage, he’s so pigheaded.”
That wasn’t how Jude had found Rob’s father. He was passionate about food, all right, but maybe that meant he spoke a language Jude could translate without trouble.
Rob glanced in his direction. “Then later during the competition. You did the same thing to me, and I finally got it.”
“What do you mean, you finally got it? Got what, exactly?”
“I got how you managed him the very first time you met him. How you manage everyone. From my dad to the kitchen porters. Hell, you even do it to your sister.” He selected a knife and filleted sea bass, swift and decisive, slicing through iridescent skin and following the bone so closely that no flesh was wasted.
“You don’t talk, Jude. You’re quiet, so people fill your silence.
That means when you do speak, people listen. ”
Jude wasn’t sure silence was a plus point.
Keeping his thoughts to himself was a defence mechanism he hadn’t realised he wore like armour until he’d escaped Porthperrin.
It stopped him from outing himself, and it also worked for him in busy kitchens where saying, “Yes chef!” was the only expectation.
“That strong but silent vibe you give off sure caught my attention,” Rob said, rueful.
“Especially during the first heats of the contest. I didn’t realise how much other chefs blow their trumpets until you didn’t.
You didn’t showboat for the judges either.
You looked at whatever ingredients they gave us, and then committed.
They noticed.” He used Jude’s weapon against him then, saying nothing else until Jude met his eye, caught like a fish on a tight line.
Rob finally spoke very quietly. “You commit, Jude. That’s what I noticed about you.
Like the way you committed to looking for your parents.
I was pissed off that you left, but you’ve got to know how much I admire it.
That kind of dedication…? Well, you can’t blame me for wanting more of it for myself, back then. ”
It took every ounce of strength for Jude to break away from his gaze. It would have been so much easier to lean in and kiss him. He got busy washing shellfish instead, sure if he looked at Rob even one more time, he’d want to commit to far more than was safe here.