Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
Walker
Istood at the prep station, glancing around the kitchen as the staff geared up for tonight’s reservations. The two chefs behind me were in the middle of making sauces, marinating the fish, getting the potatoes groomed for the different ways we served them.
But something felt off—more off than normal.
Although I was looking at the faces of my employees, their tasks, the interior of this space that I was as familiar with as the back of my hand, it no longer felt like I was here.
That I was even inside my body.
Everything was moving.
Spinning.
Shifting.
But me.
I was completely still.
And the speed of it all was making my heart whack against my chest. It was making my goddamn throat dry. Every time I went to take a breath, I couldn’t.
My hands were slick, my head aching.
Even the scent of the buttery béarnaise sauce—a smell I fucking loved—was causing my stomach to churn.
“You need to take over,” I said to Keith.
I didn’t look at him.
But I knew he was behind me and within ear range.
“No problem.” I felt him slip in next to me. “You’re looking a little pale. Everything okay?”
“I’m fucking fine.”
I unbuttoned the top of my chef’s whites as I left the station. I didn’t stop in my office to get my bag. I didn’t even lock the door. I just went through the back of the kitchen, avoiding eye contact with anyone I passed, hoping the air outside would make this stop.
Whatever the fuck this was.
At the end of the hallway, I reached for the door handle that would lead me to the back parking lot.
As I started to pull, there was a bit of tension coming from the other side, the momentum moving faster than the strength I’d used to open the door.
Just when it was wide enough, someone was walking through at the same time I was trying to leave, and our bodies accidentally collided.
Since mine was far larger, I didn’t move.
But she did.
Her hands went to my chest, her body bouncing against me and starting to fall back.
The moment I caught her, my fingers clenched her waist so she didn’t hit the ground, and that was when she looked up at me with her beautiful blue eyes.
Alivia …
Fuck me.
“I’ve got you.”
I didn’t know why I’d announced that—she could tell I wasn’t going to let her fall.
“I know.”
My fingers spread, touching flat planes and hard ribs and gentle curves.
And the longer I held on, the more I was taken aback by her smile.
It wasn’t soft, like the quiet ones she’d been giving me lately.
This was similar to what I’d seen in my hotel suite.
Full of imperfect teeth that I found stunning and pouty lips that I wanted pressed against mine.
“Thank you.” She swallowed. “And … hi.”
I couldn’t get enough of that grin.
Or the feel of her under my fingertips.
Or the pomegranate smell that was coming from her.
I wanted more.
I wanted to carry her to my car.
I wanted her naked in my back seat.
But I was her fucking boss.
I couldn’t have another incident like the other night, when I’d circled my arms around her and taught her how to hold a knife and cut.
Even though those few minutes had been the happiest ones I’d had all goddamn week.
My hands and arms needed to stay the hell away from her, so I stepped back and moved to the wall, pushing myself into it. “Go ahead.”
She stared at me for several seconds, as though she was confused. “Are you leaving?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s the start of dinner.” She tucked a loose chunk of dark hair behind her ear. “You’re not working tonight?”
The thought of not being able to see her all evening made me fucking ache.
“Are you my boss, Alivia? Is there some change in hierarchy that I don’t know about? Because the last time I checked, I didn’t have to give you an explanation about anything I did.”
She shook her head, her smile fading. “You’re right.”
“Since you’re so fucking inquisitive, Keith is taking over this evening. You can waste his time with your questions instead of wasting mine.”
“I’ll do that, Chef.”
“Chef?” I raised my brows, not remembering her calling me that before.
“I really wanted to call you a dickhead, but I don’t want to be fired.” She gave me a wink as she walked past me and headed for the kitchen.
The knock on my office door made me palm the piece of paper I’d been reading, ball it up, and toss it across the room.
My throat tightened as I roared, “What?”
The door opened, and Eden popped her head through, the dark pieces of her hair falling into her eyes. “Hi.” She drew out the word, almost fucking singing it.
“Why are you so goddamn happy?”
“Because I’m seeing you.” She opened the door further, showing she wasn’t alone—Colson had come with her. “Have a second?”
“Are you giving me any other choice?”
She walked in and took a seat in front of my desk, Colson doing the same after he closed the door.
I crossed my arms, preparing my nerves for the fucking nonsense I was about to hear. “Go on. Hit me with it. I know you’re not here because you miss me.”
“We came for a couple of reasons,” Colson explained, pushing up the sleeves of his light-blue sweater. “The first is to see how you’re doing, as it’s been a few days since you dropped the Alivia bomb on us.”
“I’m fine. And the second reason?”
Colson’s stare told me he didn’t believe me. I didn’t bother to look at Eden. I knew her expression would match Colson’s.
“To discuss James Ryne-Young’s charity auction,” he continued.
“Do you see that piece of paper right there?” I pointed at the ball I’d thrown right before they came in. “That’s how I feel about the auction and everything that needs to be done.”
Their eyes returned to me, and Eden said, “But you agreed to do it.”
She was right. The actress had caught me at a weak fucking moment.
I’d made the scallops, which was exactly what I hadn’t wanted to do, and as I was delivering them to the table, James asked if she could speak to me.
She gave me a brief rundown of her plans for the event and asked if I’d volunteer to be the chef.
For whatever reason, I glanced up and caught eyes with Alivia, who was bringing in the other plates of scallops, and before I fucking knew it, I had agreed.
The ball of paper on the floor was a brief sketch of the five courses, which was nothing but shit.
“And now I need to cancel,” I told them. I leaned back in my chair, my head shaking. “I can’t fucking do that dinner.”
“Before we go there …” Eden held up her hand and loudly sighed. “Let’s discuss Alivia.”
I gripped both armrests. “There’s nothing to discuss.”
“There is because you haven’t said a word to me about an NDA,” Eden voiced. “Does that—”
“It means we don’t need one,” I interrupted.
“You’re positive she won’t speak to the staff? And that she hasn’t already?” Colson asked.
I rocked in my chair. This conversation made my breathing come out deeply and loudly.
“You do know how a restaurant works, don’t you?
The second someone finds out something, they tell their best friend.
That’s equivalent to lighting a piece of dry kindling in the middle of a forest. Once those embers start sparking, the entire forest is engulfed in flames.
In less than an hour, every single person—including the people who are out sick or have the day off—know.
It would make its way back to me—it always does. And it hasn’t.”
“There’s still plenty of time for her to say something—”
“She won’t,” I roared, cutting off Colson.
“How do you know?” he pressed.
Because when I had looked into her eyes, I could tell she wanted me.
Because when I had caught her from falling, she had leaned into my hands.
“Because she would have already said something,” I voiced instead.
“I don’t buy that.” He crossed his legs. “You don’t know when anyone is going to open their mouth and gossip. What if she’s out drinking with the other servers and—”
“She doesn’t drink.”
“What if—”
“Enough!” I leaned forward and crossed my hands on top of the desk. “Take this as my nonnegotiable response: she fucking won’t. Now drop it.”
There was a smile hinting at his lips … and I didn’t like it. “Does that mean something’s happening between you two?”
“No.”
“Or maybe I should ask, do you want something to happen between you two again?”
“Colson, I reached my limit the second you guys sat down in my office. Keep goading me, and I’ll walk the fuck out.”
His brows rose and stayed high, and his smirk stretched wide. “Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes to be finished with this conversation. Move on to James and how you’re going to help her find another chef once I cancel on her.”
“Hold on.” Eden put her hand on my desk to gain my attention. “I need to make sure you and Alivia don’t have a problem working together despite what happened. And I need to know I won’t have to pick up the pieces of an HR case that’s on the verge of rearing its ugly head.”
“You have nothing to worry about.”
She slowly nodded. “Okay.” She furrowed her brow, tugging at the collar of her shirt. “Would she say the same?”
“Yes.”
“Then we can move on,” Eden said. “Why don’t you want to do James’s charity auction? The exposure would be tremendous. You would be giving back to a charity that’s sole dedication is helping children—”
“I have zero interest in coming up with a menu for a hundred people. Zero interest in stepping foot in the kitchen where the event is being held.” My fingers clenched into a fist. “And less than zero interest in spending two days prepping and an entire day and night cooking.”
“But this is what you do, Walker.” Eden’s voice turned so light. “This is who you are—”
“It’s who I was. Who I am now …” I grabbed the sides of my hair, squeezing the strands, my stomach a churning fucking mess. “I don’t know.”
Eden looked at Colson and said, “You’re worrying me,” when her eyes returned to mine.
I didn’t know how to ease her worry … when I was worried too.