Chapter 11
ELEVEN
RAY
“Fantastic work, everyone.” I applaud at the front of the room. Fin and André on either side of me join my praise of the kids, clapping. “Thanks for hanging in there as we mastered the boring stuff this week.”
Smiles light up several faces as laughter floats throughout the room. Their exhilaration palpable as I scan the tables.
“Next week, the real fun begins… with breakfast foods.”
A few of the younger kids wiggle in their seats while others do fist pumps and whisper-hiss, “Yes!” When their excitement tapers, I continue.
“Before we go today, I have homework for you.” I hold up a hand to cut off grumbles and comments. “You’ll like this assignment. Promise.”
André and Fin pass out homework sheets. Briefly, my gaze pauses on Kaya, a shy smile on her lips. The corner of my mouth twitches a beat before I move past her.
“Between now and the start of dessert week”—murmurs filter through the room at the mention of dessert—“I want you to think about your favorite dishes or a family meal you really love. Write them on the paper as they come to you. Put as many as you want on the page.” I hold up a copy and tap it. “The hard part of this homework is at the start of week six.” Somber smile on my face, I add, “You’ll have to choose the one you love most. Then we’ll put them to a vote. The most popular dish will be made by me for everyone to enjoy.”
Oohs followed by mumbled, animated words echo around us.
“Everyone’s dish will get made and shared for the group to enjoy. They may not taste as good as the version you love, but we’ll do our best. Any questions before lunch?”
Several hands go up and we answer each question, be it silly or serious, as lunch is brought in from the main restaurant. Once we’ve responded to everyone, André, Fin, and I take a seat at different tables with the kids and enjoy lunch.
I squeeze in a chair beside Tucker’s and give him a tight side hug. “What’d you think of week one, bud?”
Tucker slurps a fettuccine noodle between his lips, alfredo sauce coating his mouth and splattering his face. Not that he cares. “Was good. Kind of boring, but okay.”
Twirling pasta around my fork, I pierce a blistered tomato, grilled mushroom, and chunk of lobster. “Glad it was only kind of boring,” I tease and then pop the bite in my mouth.
As light chatter fills the room, I listen and soak in everything the kids have to say about the class so far. From what I hear, they all seem pleased with the class but are happy the first week is done. That little tidbit of insight warms my chest in an incomparable way.
I can do this. I can take this next step and still feel a sense of achievement. Fulfillment. Exultation.
This new role is a step in the right direction, and I look forward to the opportunities it brings. Although the rush is different from what I get working in the main kitchen, it still thrums in my veins. I still feel as though I have purpose, am important. When I’m at the head of the room and glance around to see their attention zeroed in on me, it feels as though I’ve made it. As if I’ve unlocked an elusive dream I didn’t know I was chasing.
I load my fork with another bite of pasta and lift it to my mouth. As it has countless times this week, my gaze flits to Kaya. At this point, it feels like second nature. Habitual. When my eyes lock onto her coppery-brown gaze, a sense of weightlessness settles in my chest.
How long has she been staring?
Had I met Kaya a few years ago, I would’ve rattled off some cocky comment when I spotted her checking me out. A one-liner to make her laugh or blush. Anything to get a reaction and make her lean a little closer or playfully roll her eyes and wave me off. Anything to hold her attention and lure her in.
In that regard, I’m glad I didn’t meet her back then. Happy I didn’t have the opportunity to ruin what may possibly be something great.
From the moment I laid eyes on Kaya, she’s been at the forefront of my thoughts. The slight, natural upward curve of her full lips at the corners. How her lustered irises seem to reach for and capture the light in any setting. Shimmering. Captivating. The soft slope of her nose that leads to a septum piercing I don’t remember seeing before today. Her soft, golden-brown skin with a hint of blush on her cheekbones. The overall radiance she exudes effortlessly.
Kaya is more than beauty and appeal. When she enters the room, an inexplicable magnetism sparks to life inside me. An undeniable awareness rooted in my marrow. It’s more than temptation. Bigger than some carnal urge.
She calls out to and awakens the dormant side of my soul. Rouses new, irresistible desires.
Needing more than a silent conversation with her, I load my fork and bring it to my lips but don’t take the bite yet. “How was class for you this week, Kaya?”
A faint blush pinks her cheeks. The sight heats more than my blood, and I discreetly adjust myself beneath the table.
Kaya glances at Tucker for a split second before meeting my gaze again. “Fun. Informative.” A smile plumps her cheeks as she spears a blistered tomato and chunk of lobster. “Learned some great tips and tricks. You’re an excellent teacher. Your skill set, expertise, and patience are noteworthy, especially with this crew.” She visually sweeps the room, pausing on each child a moment.
Her praise turns my insides to hot honey.
“Thank you,” I murmur then take a deep breath and sit taller. “Are you excited to slice, dice, sauté, and bake?”
Swallowing her bite, she takes a sip of water and nods. “Yes. I’m no stranger to the kitchen, but my competence is mediocre next to yours.” Soft laughter leaves her lips. “Basic, simple meals are my specialty. The fewer ingredients, the better.” She shifts in her seat, a soft glow about her as her entire body comes to life. “And I’m learning how to make traditional foods with my family. Ancestral recipes and delicacies we lost generations ago but have rediscovered.”
The conversations around us fade into the background as I focus all my attention on her. “I’d love to hear more if you’re comfortable sharing. Before culinary school, I trekked through parts of Europe and Asia. Experienced a plethora of cultural foods unlike what we see in the States.”
Those months exploring the world changed how I looked at and thought of food. Of course, my family influenced my love for being in the kitchen. But the days and nights in Italy, France, Spain, Thailand, Japan, Vietnam, and the Philippines had the biggest impact on my culinary creativity.
It’s one thing to be handed a recipe and make a dish from a list of ingredients. It’s something wholly different to stand in a kitchen smaller than the average bedroom, sweating your ass off because there’s no air conditioning and cooking the food you just caught or foraged. The experience humbled and motivated me in a way nothing else ever has.
When I returned home, I immediately signed up for culinary school. I knew it’d be years before I’d create anything as extravagant or awe-inspiring as the foods I tasted in my travels, but I had the patience to wait. And until that moment arrived, I created unique dishes on my own time.
Kaya tucks an errant hair behind her ear as the blush on her cheeks blooms a darker, more addictive shade of red. And damn, how I love my effect on her.
Bold, twinkling eyes meet mine as she sits back, rests her hands in her lap, and nods. “Sometime.”
Her confident, relaxed energy is my new favorite obsession.
Setting my fork on my plate, I wipe my mouth then set my napkin down. Subdued grin on my face, I shift my attention to Tucker and his now empty plate. “Hey, bud, will you help clear the tables?”
Grumbling his acquiescence, he scoots his chair away from the table and takes his plate to the tub.
Without overthinking it, I move to Tucker’s seat next to Kaya and inch closer to her. “Thanks again for being here.” I do my damnedest to come off as casual. “I appreciate you taking the time.”
What I really want to say is you’re the reason I’ve smiled all week, but that seems over the top.
“I should be thanking you.” She hands Tucker her plate when he returns to the table. “Had you not mentioned the class, I would’ve missed out.”
We fall silent a moment, but it’s far from uncomfortable. As the seconds tick on, as the end of class looms in the not-too-distant future, the warmth in my chest at her proximity morphs into buzzing anxiety.
Before I can stop myself, I blurt, “Can I take you to dinner sometime?”
Her eyes widen in surprise as the question registers. “Erm…”
I plaster on my best smile, the one most melt over, and inch impossibly closer to her. I don’t miss the rapid rise of her chest at my nearness.
“Nothing extravagant. Dinner, maybe a little wine.” I shrug and try to remain outwardly composed. Inside, every cell in my body screams please say yes over and over .
Bucking up the courage to put myself out there is hard enough. It isn’t only my heart on the line, but I’m willing to take the initial hit. For Kaya, I will risk my heart. Expose myself and be vulnerable. Endanger my peace and emotions for the possibility of what may be.
She shifts in her seat as her eyes scan the room. “I, uh…” Wrinkles line her forehead as her gaze meets mine. “I don’t know.”
Not a firm no. Which means there is room for a yes. Time to add more fuel to the kindling.
Twisting in my seat, my hand rests inches from hers. “I like you, Kaya,” I say, voice soft, words laced with conviction. “And I’d like to know you better.”
“Is that a good idea?” She tilts her head toward the kids and my coworkers.
“There’s no rule saying we can’t have dinner together.” I almost said go on a date but quickly countered.
Skepticism dances over her expression. “The school frowns upon staff spending personal time with parents.”
“School’s out for the summer,” I rush out. “We can cross that bridge later.”
Her gaze drops to her lap a beat before it drifts across the room. “What about Tucker?”
With such a rough start in life, the last thing I want to do is disrupt the inkling of serenity Tucker has gained since I got him back. But Tucker isn’t the same little boy I laid eyes on almost two years ago. Now, he has a safe haven, a sense of security, feels loved. He smiles, is genuinely happy.
After countless hours of overthinking this week, of going back and forth on whether I should attempt dating as a single dad, I decide yes. It’s time to find what—who—sets my soul on fire. Yes, I am a parent. But it’s not all I am.
“I’ll talk with him. Figure it out.”
I see the cogs turning as she mulls over whether to accept or decline. She doesn’t make me wait long.
With a lick of her lips, she swallows then nods infinitesimally. “Dinner sounds nice.”
I stop breathing for one, two, three erratic heartbeats. As I exhale, the noise around us filters back in. My cheeks burn as a smile stretches across my face. “I’ll talk with Tucker and text you later.”
She fights a smile and fails, and damn do I love how much it makes her glow. “Talk to you later.”