Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
KAYA
I never want cooking school to end.
When Ray asked me to be a part of this, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Rowdy kids, basic recipes, and a lot of leftovers, perhaps. But that’s not the case. Quite the opposite.
The kids are a bit wild in the morning but overall well behaved and friendly. They quiet down when Ray or another chef speaks. The older students assist the younger ones if they run into trouble with cutting, mixing, or measuring. They smile and joke for hours while they work.
Great people, fun environment, delicious food. What’s not to love?
Monday’s breakfast was a twist on a classic—cheesy scrambled eggs, brown sugar bacon twists, garlic and herb biscuits, and crispy home fries with caramelized onions and bell peppers. A simple way to test everyone’s skills and comfort in the kitchen and a gentle introduction of what is to come.
Tuesday, yesterday, and today were more fun and unique. Nutella-stuffed pancakes topped with fresh berries and bananas paired with a creamy pineapple and strawberry smoothie. Bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich with hash browns in place of the bread alongside a unicorn hot chocolate. Scrambled eggs, sausage, and country gravy breakfast pizza on a biscuit crust with fresh-squeezed orange juice and fruit medley on the side—my favorite so far.
Tomorrow, we end the week with a sun-dried tomato, fresh mozzarella, and pesto quiche with a decaf iced mocha.
If they offered yearlong classes, I’d be first in line.
Speaking of classes…
Sunday night flashes in my mind. An unforgettable date night with Ray and Tucker. Ray made the entire meal—well, Tucker and I contributed to the salad—without breaking a sweat. He moved effortlessly and delivered mouthwatering dishes. Created magic in his home.
And if I’m lucky enough for a repeat, maybe I won’t need cooking classes. Ray can teach me personally.
I initially brushed off our fancy date night dinner as Ray trying to impress me, but I know that’s not entirely true. Every time he steps inside a kitchen, his love for food comes to life.
Was he pulling out all the stops Sunday night? Of course. It was a date.
Did he cook outside his wheelhouse? I doubt such a thing exists for Ray.
Wonder what he’d think of my family’s dishes. Intrigued and curious, I imagine. Eager to learn more.
“Hey, Fire Eyes,” Ray whispers as he squeezes a chair in on my right and sits. His warm, brown eyes meet mine for a breath, then shift to Tucker on my left. “Hey, T-Man. How’s the pizza?”
“Soooo good.” He stares at the pizza and moans. “We have to make this at home.”
“Yeah?” Ray asks, and Tucker nods vigorously as she takes a massive bite. “What about the pancakes a couple days ago?” Ray takes a bite of his own pizza.
“Mm-hmm.” Tucker swallows his bite then washes it down with juice. “Those were like dessert for breakfast.” His expression turns dreamy as he licks his lips.
A heart of pure gold, Tucker is one of the cutest kids I’ve met.
Ray leans into me and I still, fever blanketing my skin. Beneath the table, his leg presses the length of mine with no promise of retreat. Such a simple move, but it makes me dizzy.
Dropping my chin, I try to hide my dopey smile. Mask the inferno flaming my face. I inhale— one, two, three— and exhale— three, two, one— to steady my erratic pulse while every nerve ending in my body lights and sparks like a chain of firecrackers. Clutching my napkin, I fight the urge to drop my hand beneath the table and touch him.
His leg is magnetized to mine the entire time we eat. Tucker asks what the class is making tomorrow, and Ray rattles off the menu. When a groove forms between Tucker’s brows, Ray translates it to Tucker terms.
“Remember the pizza I made with the creamy green sauce?”
Tucker nods.
“It’s kind of like that, but a breakfast pie version.”
Tucker’s eyes narrow as if he’s trying to picture it. Then he shrugs and resumes eating. When Tucker’s plate empties, Ray asks him and the other two kids at the table to help clear plates and wipe down tables. With a playful roll of his eyes, followed by a half-hearted groan, Tucker slides out of his chair and takes his plate, mine, and Ray’s to the dirty dish bin. The others at our table get to work without complaint.
Ray opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “I need to get to the rec center before the other counselors rip out their hair.”
Checking his watch, he chuckles. “Thought my days were busy.”
Scooting my chair back, I rise and start unbuttoning my coat. Ray unabashedly stares at my fingers as each button pops free. And when I reach the last one, his gaze meets mine. I don’t miss the fire in his dark eyes. The hint of amber around his pupils. The luminous spark that makes me a little dizzy.
I shoulder my bag and drape my coat over my arm. Walk to the door on slow, reluctant feet. Drag out leaving just to have a few more minutes with him. To get another hit of his heated gaze, addictive charm, and hypnotic energy.
“I’ll walk you out.” He offers this every day, and not once have I declined.
“Thank you.”
“T-Man,” he calls across the room. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Tucker nods then goes back to chatting with the other kids.
As Ray opens the door for me, a young woman steps back in surprise on the other side. She flashes me a welcoming smile that falters when her attention shifts to Ray. A faint blush colors her cheeks as she squirms in place.
“Hi, Chef,” she says, a slight squeak in her voice.
“Hey, Cameron. The kids are still cleaning up.” He jerks his head over his shoulder. “Mind giving them a hand?”
“Sh-sure.” She smooths her hands over her coat in an attempt to compose herself. “I take it the pizza was a hit.”
“It was. Thanks for the suggestion.”
Her blush deepens.
“Cameron, this is Kaya, a… friend helping us with the classes.” His pause makes my stomach flip.
“Oh.” Her gaze unenthusiastically shifts to mine. She clenches then relaxes her fingers before lifting her hand. “Nice to meet you, Kaya. I work in the kitchen with Chef Calhoun.”
I study her obvious beauty. Subtly scrutinize her body language and tone. Pick up on her easy attraction to Ray. Arch a brow at her territorialism—a feature Ray seems oblivious to.
I slip my hand in hers, my grip firm yet delicate, and give a slight tilt of my head as we shake. “Likewise, Cameron. Today’s dish was my favorite yet.” I toss out the honest compliment then release her hand. “Sorry to cut this short, but I do need to go.” I avert my attention to Ray. “Ready?”
“After you.” Ray gestures for me to lead the way.
We walk through the restaurant in amiable silence. Muted music echoes around us from the kitchen where the cooks dice and chop vegetables for tonight’s guests.
As we step into the sun, his knuckles graze my bicep. “Can I see you again?”
I clamp my lips between my teeth to fight a smile. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”
He chuckles. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
I shorten my stride and prolong the walk to my car. “What do you mean?” I ask, tone playful.
His fingers trail down my bare forearm, skim my palm, then ever so slowly lace with my fingers. My skin tingles where he’s touched me; my hand in his is a live wire. Desire blooms low in my belly. A deep-rooted need simmers in my bones. I feel dizzy. Unsteady. Reckless. Remiss.
His thumb strokes the length of mine. “Can’t stop thinking about you.” He inhales a shaky breath. “Or that kiss.”
Makes two of us.
“I like you, Kaya,” he says without hesitation. “More than anyone in a long time.” His thumb strokes mine again, softer, almost indiscernibly. “So much it scares me, but in a good way. If that makes sense.”
“It does.” I stop a few feet from my car and spin to face him.
“But it scares me more to not give us a shot.” He widens his stance until our gazes are level. “I won’t skirt around the truth.” He shakes his head. “Tucker’s mother did a number on me. Messed with my head for years.” He tucks his chin to his chest, takes a deep breath, holds it for a beat, then meets my waiting stare on the exhale. “Lies, cheating, running off with him in the middle of the night, and…” A notable ridge forms between his brows. “I didn’t come out here to dump all the heavy stuff, but it feels wrong to keep it from you.”
My grip turns fierce, protective, as I step into him. “Sorry that happened to you and Tucker. Couldn’t have been easy for either of you. Thank you for telling me.” I caress his thumb. “If it makes you feel better, I’m scared too.”
Those addictive umber irises dart between mine. “Why?”
I take hold of his other hand. “For years, I’ve had my life mapped out. A long list of goals to accomplish.” I bite my bottom lip. “None of which include a relationship… until thirty.”
“Thirty?” He visibly stiffens then relaxes. “And when will that day arrive?”
I titter. “Nice, roundabout way of asking a lady her age.” I playfully roll my eyes. “Five years.”
His eyes widen as he studies every line and curve of my face. As if he’s seeing me for the first time.
Age hasn’t come up until now. Considering Ray has a nine-year-old and soft crow’s-feet when he smiles—which is often—I guess he’s in his late twenties or early thirties. But maybe I’m way off.
His tongue peeks out and wets his lips. “Tell me I don’t have to wait five years, Fire Eyes.” The plea in his voice, the desperation in his eyes, the gravity pulling us closer tugs at something in my chest.
My heart hammers as I swallow past the building lump in my throat. He gave me one of his truths; now it’s my turn to do the same. “My family has been trying to find me a husband for years.”
At this, he jerks back. Red crawls up his neck and mottles his face.
I stop breathing. “What?”
His hold on me tightens then relaxes. “My parents did the same to my younger sister. The day she turned eighteen, they all but thrust her at potential suitors. Dinner parties with select Seven families. After a major clusterfuck last year, it stopped.”
“How old’s your sister?”
“Thirty.”
Twelve years. Wow. Just… wow.
I understand and somewhat respect why my family is trying to play matchmaker. They want to be sure I land a worthy partner, someone who compliments my intelligence, ambition, and our culture.
But there is more to life than having an outwardly upstanding person at your side.
I want a true match. Someone whose personality and quirks complement mine. Whose ambitions and outlook reflect my own. Whose passion and hunger for their partner is unrivaled and not something that builds with time .
“Not sure how your family was with your sister, but mine has been more passive-aggressive. Hints. New dinner guests at family gatherings.” I look skyward. “Next week, they want me to have dinner with a doctor in town.”
“Are you?”
I inch closer to him. Step between his legs, lightly press my chest to his and subtly shake my head. “There’s a conference I said yes to, but I declined dinner.”
His entire body sags. “Sorry.” He drops his forehead to mine, closes his eyes, and inhales a shaky breath. “This conversation went the wrong direction.” He gives my hands a reassuring squeeze.
“You said younger sister,” I blurt out then bite my bottom lip, my face scorching.
Why, Kaya? Why?
A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he cracks an eye open. “You asking if I’m an old man, Fire Eyes?”
I squirm. “No.” Those two letters hold zero conviction.
Eyes downcast, he rests a hand over his heart and mutters, “I’m sensitive about my age.” For a moment, neither of us says anything. He lifts his gaze to mine, his expression deadpan as he stares. Then he laughs. Hard and loud and from somewhere deep in his belly. I want to slap him.
“Joking, Fire Eyes.” He wraps my hand with his once more. “Thirty-seven next month.”
Surprisingly, our age difference doesn’t bother me. If anything, I find his maturity attractive. Alluring.
My thumbs caress the length of his as I drop my forehead to his chest and groan. “Gotta go.” I huff, lift my head, and meet his rich browns. “See you in the morning.”
He shuffles impossibly closer, his dark irises invading my vision, holding mine captive. “Say yes to another date.”
The corner of my mouth twitches. “Yes.”
His instantaneous smile is radiant, captivating, infectious. “Does Sunday work?”
“Sunday’s perfect.”
Then his lips are on mine. Soft, warm, coaxing. He licks the seam of my lips, an unspoken request for more. Tipping my head, I part my lips in silent permission and open for him. His tongue dives in and tangles with mine. He tastes sweet and savory, and like him. I groan, and he melts into the kiss.
He unfurls our hands and bands his arms around my waist. I ghost mine up his chest, around his neck, and run my fingers through his hair. The kiss lasts less than a minute but feels infinite.
“Spend the whole day with us,” he says when he breaks the kiss.
Us. I love that our dates include Tucker. It’s such a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. Says I’m more than someone to warm his sheets for a night or two.
“I’d like that.”
His mouth drops to mine in a chaste kiss. “I should get back.”
“And I’m probably late.” I wince.
Totally worth it, though.
He presses his lips to mine one last time then steps back. “Go. Before I don’t let you leave.”
My laugh mingles with his.
“Text me later?” I unlock my car, set my bag in the back, then slip behind the wheel.
“Definitely.” His grin is wide and bright as he winks. “Later, Fire Eyes.”
Gooey warmth engulfs me as I take one last look at him. “Later, Chef.” Then, I train my eyes forward.
I rush across town to the rec center, apologize profusely for my tardiness, cue up this afternoon’s movie and pass out snacks, then settle in a chair at the back of the room. Seclude myself from the group and take what feels like my first breath since leaving Ray.
Then I do something I never would’ve in the past.
For the next two hours, with my phone on mute, I shamelessly watch Ray’s cooking videos online. Heat licks my skin as my heart rattles in my chest. I all but drool as his fingers flick cream, chocolate, and clams in provocative ways. Practically melt in my seat as he tongues cocktail glasses and fruit slices. Start fanning myself when he plunges his fingers in citrus and papaya. Squeeze my thighs together as he spanks then strokes a large piece of red meat.
I don’t dare look away. Not even when my thoughts stray to more… delicious places.
As for my goal of no romantic relationships… suppose that’s null and void.
But if anyone’s going to make me break my own rules, I’m glad it’s him.