Kiss the Cook (Crowhill Kitchen #1)

Rafael

I looked out across the kitchen. My kitchen.

Finally – now that Jesse was gone – I was the lord of this domain.

Shame it’s only for half a day , my head reminded me, and I found myself scowling instead of grinning as I swept my eye across the prep counter.

“Heavy is the head,” Grey joked, slapping me on the shoulder as he walked into the kitchen. I looked up at him and, despite knowing that I needed to keep my boss on my side, I couldn’t quite make the scowl drop off my face.

“Do you see a crown?” I asked – maybe a little too snappishly, even for a laidback boss like Grey.

He frowned back at me. “Not with that attitude,” he said.

I opened my mouth to apologize and try to rein my emotions in, but he was already turning away. I sighed and dropped my head, running a finger over the already-grimy printout of tonight’s bookings. There were a few regulars seated at their regular tables. I could recite by heart what a few of them would order; they never changed. I wiped a smear of what looked like broth off the corner of the sheet and put it back on the counter where it came from.

Grey was doing the rounds; for some reason, he liked to come in at the start of our shift and greet everyone personally, as if he thought that we worked harder knowing he was there. Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Maybe he was just testing his luck, seeing who his charm would work on today.

Not me.

Never me.

I’d seen way too many of Grey Monaghan’s conquests over the years to ever fall into his bed – and besides, I needed to stay professional and impress him right now more than ever. It was the only way I was going to keep my job once this new chef came in.

“Alright, everyone,” Grey said, clapping his hands together once. “Just remember, we have Chef Warwick coming in today to start his trial. I want everyone to make him feel welcome, you got that?”

Everyone nodded and shuffled their feet. I folded my arms instead of saying anything – I was behind Grey, anyway, and he wasn’t even looking in my direction. I looked over them all. My staff. Even if only for today.

The waiters, Nikolai and Kit, were propping up both sides of the swinging doors that led out into the restaurant as if it would fall over without them. They were an odd match: tall, blond, and built Nikolai standing next to slim, shorter, and messy-dark-haired Kit. Grey didn’t seem to care about the mismatch between his front-of-house staff, and in fairness, neither did the customers. They were both cute in their own ways, and that was all that mattered.

Being the only gay-owned, gay-staffed, and gay-serving restaurant in town – probably the state – meant looks mattered a lot around here.

“Hey,” Ainslie called out, seeing Grey about to turn and stalk back out into his real domain. Nikolai went out ahead of him. “Hey, boss?”

I bit the inside of my mouth. I’d told them I would handle this, but he was clearly in a rush to ask Grey himself.

Grey turned back and gave him a slight incline of the head that made me narrow my eyes. Was he going after Ainslie, next? My newly-promoted chef definitely fit the mold that was expected of us here at The Crow: he had some sort of hyper-fixation on macros and gym time that had left him with a sculpted body, one that he clothed in too-tight shirts to show off. At least now that he was no longer the dishwasher around here, he had no excuse to ‘accidentally’ splash himself once a day to really let the abs show through.

“Uh, we were thinking,” Ainslie said and glanced at Beau.

Beau, the big exception to our unofficial requirement, because you had to look hard to see the cute in him. It was there – no doubt about it. It was just hidden under weight gained from comfort eating, unruly hair that covered half his face, the huge round-framed glasses he wore to hide his eyes, and the shyness that made him blend into the background most of the time.

Unless he needed to speak.

“We need help,” Beau said. His words were clear and he didn’t falter. I had to admire that about him. Shy and quiet as he was, he could also stand his ground when it was necessary. “Now that Ainslie’s joining us on chef duties, we need another dishwasher.”

“Right, right,” Grey said, waving a distracted hand. “I remember. I’ll hire someone, I promise. I have an ad up online. But you’ll have an extra hand in the kitchen today, so you can cover it between you.”

Beau and Ainslie exchanged a look and then both turned to me. I shook my head quickly. Grey had obviously forgotten the correct math: sure, we had this mysterious Chef Warwick coming in today, but Jesse had just done his last shift. We were still down one.

And it was going to fall to me to train up this new guy, whoever he was. Show him around the place and get him settled in. My replacement . The gall of it stung me. I wasn’t in the mood to help them beg Grey for anything today.

The Head Chef job should be mine. It was mine, by right. I’d been Jesse’s right-hand man for long enough that he’d trusted me to run the kitchen whenever he took a night off. Even on big occasions. I’d run Valentine’s Day solo this year, and it had gone off without a hitch.

Yet, still, Grey demanded I take part in this stupid competition, pitting me against the newbie as if my experience was nothing.

I didn’t understand why he didn’t just give me the job. Why he was making me take part in this song and dance routine. I didn’t deserve this, after all the years of service I’d put in.

Maybe if I’d slept with him, like some of the others…

But I’d seen staff come and go over the years precisely because of Grey’s wandering hand. After we slept together, what then? Maybe I’d get one promotion, but I’d also have to be at his beck and call without even the reward of a relationship. Grey didn’t do relationships.

And neither did I. I didn’t have the time.

Especially not after I took over the Head Chef role at The Crow, which I was going to do, damn it, and Grey would have to take his stupid new trial chef and shove him somewhere the sun didn’t shine.

I bit my lip and pretended to busy myself with checking over the prep stations, making sure everything was in its right place. I already knew it was, but I had to do something to hide this fluttering feeling in my chest that wouldn’t go away.

The fear that maybe I wasn’t going to get the Head Chef job after all.

Grey hadn’t promoted me last time there’d been a vacancy – he’d brought in Jesse, a baker and not really a chef at all, to run things for six months. At the time, he’d told me I needed more well-rounded training. Okay, I thought. Let me learn how to be a baker so I can add that to the list of hoops I can jump through when Grey clicks his fingers. Fine.

But now Jesse was leaving to open his own bakery, and I still wasn’t a shoo-in for the job.

If Grey wanted me to have it, he could have just given it to me.

But he hadn’t.

Instead…

“Ah!” Grey exclaimed behind me, and all the muscles in my back and neck stiffened. By instinct, I knew.

I just knew.

“Chef Warwick,” Grey went on. “You’re here! Let me introduce you to everyone.”

I plastered the fakest fake smile I could manage onto my mouth and turned around –

Only to have it drop off my face completely when I saw who was standing in the kitchen doorway.

Oh, shit .