Disasters and Way-Too-Sexy Sous Chefsy
Sloane
There are long days.
And then there are days that last roughly a geological era.
After Cohen’s wonderful little date, two meetings, a report I still haven’t filed, and enough unread messages from him to qualify as a federal crime… I need alcohol.
And carbs.
And preferably temporary amnesia regarding the word matchmaking.
Luckily, there’s one place that never disappoints: The Snowed Inn.
I push open the door and I’m hit with warm wood, soft lights, cinnamon in the air, and wildly out-of-season Christmas music.
Decorations everywhere—the yelling too.
I scan the room until I find my alternative therapy: Lina, in the middle of a world-class argument.
She’s behind the bar, cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed.
Across from her is a man who looks like he stepped straight out of the “Guaranteed Sexy Trouble” catalog.
Dark hair.
Ice-blue eyes.
Tattooed forearms.
Rolled sleeves.
An apron tied low around his hips.
The new chef Rae hired.
Sebastian—also known as “the man who does NOT exist as a chef,” according to Lina.
Her hair is blueberry-purple today, pulled into two indignant pigtails.
He’s got a towel over his shoulder and a jawline sharp enough to slice diamonds.
Right now they’re trading looks that scream I will burn you and I will burn you with superior technique.
I walk up slowly, like I’m entering a crime scene.
“I’m telling you my dish did NOT need salt!” Lina snarls.
“And I’m telling you yes, it did, because not everyone eats like vegan deer in a forest, Tinkerbell.”
She makes an outraged sound.
He gives her a half-smirk—sinfully arrogant.
Lina spots me. She arches a brow and lifts her chin, the universal sign for help me or I commit murder.
I grab the bottle on the counter like it’s a natural extension of my hand.
“I texted you I was coming,” I mutter, pretending to search casually for clean glasses.
“Sloane Heart,” she huffs, still fuming, “wasn’t yesterday enough for you?”
“Yesterday?” I pretend to think. “Hmm, let’s see. A few drops of eggnog and all those muscles that showed up to put up the lights? You have no idea how stressed I still am.”
Sebastian’s smirk widens—criminally.
Lina shoots him a death glare.
Then she turns to me with the expression of a mother whose teenage daughter has made proud, terrible choices.
She’s ten years older than me, but when she’s in Supreme Judge mode she might as well be a century older.
“And wine before your yoga session with your client?” she says, each word a dagger.
“It wasn’t wine. It was… meditative liquid.”
“It was a premium red from Sunrise Ranch, Sloane.”
Okay, fine. Fair.
I pour myself a glass.
For half a second I breathe.
This is what I wanted.
A night out.
No complicated thoughts.
No—
Damn it, why is Cohen Becker still in my head?
The last few days have been a carousel of frustration, desire, and lies I tell myself.
Yes, I shouldn’t think about him.
Yes, Olivia is the perfect candidate.
Yes, the program is finally working.
And I should be thrilled.
So why does it feel like I’m drowning in emotional Jell-O?
I settle onto the barstool and look around, trying to distract myself.
What is that smell?
Butter… rosemary… red wine?
“Oh my god, what is that?” I ask.
Sebastian glances up, a tiny smirk tugging at his mouth as he stirs something in a massive pot.
“Red wine braised beef,” he says. “With garlic mashed potatoes and kale chips.”
Lina whips a towel at him. “Don’t show off.”
“I’m answering a question, not showing off. You’re the one looking at me like I invented cooking.”
I hide a smile behind my glass.
If they don’t kill each other by December, those two are absolutely ending up in bed.
Fifty-fifty odds.
Ahh, I love a good fiery love story! Enemies to Lovers?
Yes, Sloane Heart approves.
I take a long sip and feel my stomach melt.
Yes. I needed this.
Lina rests her chin on her arm, staring at me like she can read my soul.
“Okay. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
I look at her.
She looks at me.
Years of friendship tell me I have about two seconds before the advanced interrogation begins.
“I’m just… working a lot.”
True.
But not the whole truth.
“And you’re not thinking about your client at all,” she adds, not even pretending to be subtle.
My breath catches.
My neck warms.
“I didn’t say that.”
“No, honey, you didn’t say it. You’re screaming it with your aura.”
“I’m not—”
But right then, my phone buzzes.
And I don’t even need to look to know who it is.
I don’t look.
I swear.
I don’t.
Lina does.
She grins like a cat with prey.
“Cohen-pain-in-my-ass,” she reads aloud.
I consider spontaneous combustion.
Sebastian shakes his head. “Anyone texting a woman who is very clearly drinking to forget that same someone… probably doesn’t want to be forgotten.”
“Not everyone is an idiot,” Lina snaps.
I spin on the barstool, searching for air, take another sip, and lean against the counter.
I don’t want to talk about Cohen.
I don’t want to think about Cohen.
I don’t want to… want Cohen.
“No drama tonight,” I announce. “Just us, food, alcohol, and music. No thoughts, no work, no clients.”
Lina lifts her glass. “To forgetting men.”
Sebastian adds, without looking up, “Or to the ones who are smart enough to go after what they want.”
Lina stiffens, grips her glass too tight—then toasts anyway, with a smile that hides a whole inferno.
I toast too.
And for a moment—just one—I feel lighter.
Then my phone buzzes again.
I grab it, don’t open the message, and shove it into my bag.
Not tonight.
Cohen Becker does not exist. Period.
I try to enjoy the evening and think about nothing.
I’m here, in a place I love, with one of my favorite humans on Earth.
Only two people are missing from our table—my two other chosen sisters.
Ivy isn’t here.
Of course she isn’t.
She’s absolutely off having a romantic night with Cam—yes, Cam, the sexy firefighter I matched her with who adores every inch of her.
Every time I think about them my heart warms.
And Rae is missing because… she’s busy waging Christmas war with a sexy Grinch who is perfect for her.
Yes… also my doing. Obviously.
Cupid never takes a day off.
And honestly, what’s better than making my best friends’ love lives perfect?