Chapter 7
ASPEN
Working at Dulip is a dream come true. I come home every night exhausted, sweaty, and too tired to shower. I’ve simply started peeling off my clothes and crawling under the covers naked before sleep takes hold in a matter of seconds.
I’m no stranger to hard work, but it’s always been doing mundane tasks.
Stacking shelves, folding clothes, waiting tables.
This is the first time in my life that I’m cooking and earning money for doing so.
It’s not much. I mostly shadow Leonard, but he has me help with the basics.
I’ve sautéed onions and made béchamel sauce, such small tasks that I find completely thrilling.
It’s been four weeks since I stopped waiting tables, and although my basic wage is higher, I lose out on tips.
I’ve always made great money that way. I’m always enthusiastic, attentive, and efficient, plus, it helps that I’m somewhat pretty.
It’s not a big deal. This job isn’t my main source of income, so I’m not sweating it.
Heck, I’d work for free if I had to. My other job more than pays the bills, and I live in a lovely apartment by anyone’s standards.
I’ve been putting money aside for years, waiting for the day I have enough to open my own restaurant.
Of course, I’ll need to wait until I’ve worked my way up in someone else’s kitchen.
I may have a dream, but I’m not stupid or cocky enough to believe I can open a restaurant without a hell of a lot more experience than I have now.
Chefs like Ryder Stevens don’t come along that often, and when they do, their success is born of hard work, training, and a good head for business.
I’m close to having the capital. This past month marks the beginning of working in the best kitchen in Manhattan, and I’ve been taking business classes online for the past six months. It doesn’t leave me much free time, but I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
I find myself putting a little extra into my appearance since I started working with Ryder.
I try to convince myself that it’s just the excitement of my new job, but I definitely spend longer in front of the mirror on the days I know I’ll be seeing him.
I know it’s dumb because he’s my boss, and he’s Ryder Stevens.
He’d never look twice at a woman like me, but a girl can dream.
There was a moment that day at the restaurant.
I thought for a split second that he was going to kiss me, but it was only because I invaded his space with an unprofessional hug and kiss for giving me this opportunity.
Neither of us has mentioned it, and I understand that it was one-sided. I’ve seen pictures of him online with beautiful women who look nothing like me.
From afar, Chef Stevens is undeniably handsome by anyone’s standard, but up close, he’s hot as hell.
I’m mesmerized by every detail when he’s at my side.
The way the tightly corded muscles of his arms move when he kneads dough.
How graceful his hands move as he cooks, in a decadent dance.
The way he shakes his head to get his dark blond hair off his face.
He could be memorialized in marble next to the David and put him to shame.
He’s lean but muscular, and his skin is tanned by the gods.
Tonight, I’m working alongside Leonard, and as excited as I am to be in the kitchen, there’s a pang of disappointment that I won’t see Ryder.
I shove that feeling down into the darkest recesses of my mind where it belongs.
This is my career. A man isn’t going to derail that for me, even if he’s completely unaware of what he does to me every time he smiles my way.
I shove my jacket in my locker and slip into my chef’s whites. Rick appears at my side. “How’s life on the other side?”
“Hey. I feel like we haven’t talked in ages.”
“I know, girl. You totally ditched me for the hot chef. How dare you.” He laughs.
“I haven’t ditched you.”
“To be fair, I’d ditch you if he looked at me the way he eats you up.”
“Shut up. He’s professional and way out of my league.”
“Bullshit. That man is lucky to breathe the same air as you, Aspen. You need to get with the program, girl. You’re hot as fuck and everyone but you knows it.”
Rick is my biggest supporter next to Jude. Considering we both find the same guys sexy, I don’t put much stock in his opinion of my sex appeal. I’m pretty, but I am not beautiful, elegant, or in any way modelesque.
“It doesn’t even matter. He has no interest in me outside of food.”
“Yeah, eating it off your naked body.”
“Stop. I won’t be able to look him in the eye.”
“You don’t need to look me in the eye. Just watch my hands. You’re with me tonight.” I peek around the edge of my locker door before slamming it shut. Oh hell. Ryder is standing with a smirk on his face and a glint in his eye. He heard us. I’m mortified. He’s not supposed to be here tonight.
He strides out of the locker room with such confidence I can’t help but watch. When I’m sure he’s gone, I slap Rick’s shoulder. “He heard you. What do I do now? I’m so embarrassed.”
“Own it, girl. That man’s eyes were trained on you.”
“Seriously. Stop.”
“Fine.”
“I’ve got to go and get to work.”
“Drinks this weekend?”
“Let me check my shifts.”
“Too good for the waitstaff now?” he jokes.
“I chop onions. It’s not exactly glamorous.”
“Girl, this is the beginning of your dream. One step at a time, right?” I smile so brightly at his words.
“Yep. I’m going to make it happen.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “Go get it, tiger.”
I give myself a once-over in the mirror before heading to the kitchen. How am I going to face Ryder after that visual from Rick? I’m not going to lie, I may have dreamed something similar in recent weeks, and the Ryder in my dream was very skilled with his tongue.
Oh my God. Stop making it weird.
When I step into the kitchen, a thrill courses through me. Ryder is already getting his ingredients prepped for the night, but the second I walk in, his eyes find mine, as if he can sense my presence.
“You’re shadowing me tonight, Aspen. Get over here and watch how it’s done.” A wry smile creeps at the corner of his lips. He’s cocky but has the goods to back it up. I can only imagine how confident he is in the bedroom.
Inappropriate!
I really need to get my head in the game. I’ve got the opportunity of a lifetime, and if I don’t shape up, I’m going to ruin it, too busy thinking about the size of my boss’s cock. God, I bet he’s packing.
“Aspen. If you’re just going to stand there daydreaming, feel free to leave. If you want to learn, get over here, now.” He speaks with such authority in the kitchen. It’s sexy as—stop!
“Sorry, Chef.” I quickly wash my hands and take my place at his side. There’s a different buzz in here when Chef Stevens is at the helm. Everyone knows they are in the presence of greatness.
The aroma of his cologne invades my senses, making my insides somersault.
“What’s the special tonight, Chef?” I need to focus on the food. That’s what I’m here for. It’s my singular goal.
“Icelandic cod. There’s a very specific timing for this dish. Thirty seconds too much can make or break it. The seasoning is delicate, so watch me closely. You’re going to be prepping the specials for me.”
“Yes, sir.” His jaw clenches at my words, and I wonder if he regrets his decision to hire me in the kitchen. He seems pissed at me most days I’m here, but I’m determined to show him he didn’t make a mistake.
“Chef is fine.”
“Sorry, Chef.”
“Do exactly as I do.” He fillets the fish with expert ease, not even looking at it, his eyes trained on me. I’m adept when it comes to technique, but I’m nervous with his gaze fixed on my hands. “You’re being too heavy-handed.” He sets down his knife and wraps his hand over mine.
I gasp at his touch, knowing my cheeks are beginning to flush.
“Feel that?” His hand guides mine. “It requires a gentle touch. It’ll come away easier that way. You don’t want to hack the fish. I can’t serve that to our customers.”
“Yes. I feel it.” God, I can hardly breathe with his skin touching mine.
“Right. Now, we season.” I follow every step to the letter, his finesse so enthralling.
“Can I ask why you chose Himalayan pink salt?”
“It’s less processed than regular sea salt. It retains more minerals, which adds to the taste.” My face lights up. I love learning new things.
“Wow. That’s so cool.” I continue to prepare the fish, aware that his eyes are on me. “Do I have something on my face?”
“What? No.” He’s caught off guard. “I’ve just never met anyone as enthusiastic about food before. Or were you being sarcastic?”
I giggle. “I was being serious. You must not be hanging out with the right people. Food is so much more than fuel for our bodies. It’s…”
“Art,” we say in unison.
I smile up at him, my pulse racing.
“Then, let’s make some edible art tonight.”
We fall into companionable silence while I watch him work. He has complete control in his kitchen, as it should be. Everyone works together like a well-oiled machine, and I become a cog in this living, breathing wonder.
Chef Stevens commands while encouraging everyone, and it shows in the flawless dishes being served by the waitstaff. By the end of the evening, the atmosphere is electric, and I’m so buzzed I feel like I could run a marathon.
“Great work tonight, everyone. It was a pleasure.”
The staff gives him a round of applause, and I can only hope that one day I can inspire my staff.
When the cleaning is finished, the staff filters out of the kitchen, but Chef Stevens calls my name. “Aspen, can I talk to you for a moment?” Shit. Did I do something wrong?
“Yes, Chef?”
“You did well tonight. I love that you’re not afraid to ask questions.”
“I’m sorry if some of them were stupid. I just want to learn as much as possible.”
“There are no stupid questions. Truly. I admire your vigor.”
“Thank you,” I say shyly.
“Give me a few minutes, and I’ll drive you home.”
“That’s really not necessary.”