9. Completely Professional… Maybe
Chapter 9
Completely Professional… Maybe
Tessa
A ppropriate boundaries.
For some reason, those two words cut deeper than when Declan had ended things. That’s saying something, considering I’d spent three days in my pajamas eating nothing but cookie dough. This reaction should have been my second glaring, neon-sign-worthy warning that I was diving into the deep end without my floaties.
The first sign had been the way Archer had kissed me like I was the last woman on earth. It had been unlike any kiss I’d experienced, and it took my mind to dangerous territory and made me wonder what it would be like if we took things further. Much, much further.
But if Archer wanted to keep things professional, I could do that. I was a grown woman, and I could absolutely handle maintaining appropriate boundaries with the stubborn, irritatingly handsome man who’d purposely turned his hat backward.
It was totally fine. Completely manageable. I’d have to embrace my inner ice queen and pretend his presence didn’t make my skin tingle like I’d touched a live wire. No big deal.
I needed this change in my life, even if it was temporary. “So, where do I sign?”
Archer seemed frozen, staring at me like I’d offered to juggle flaming chainsaws while reciting the alphabet backward. His coffee cup paused halfway to his mouth. “You still want the job?”
“Did you rescind the offer in the last twelve hours?” I raised an eyebrow, hoping I was showing professionalism rather than ‘woman who had her tongue down your throat last night.’
He set his cup down carefully, like he was buying time to choose his words. “No, the offer stands. What were you thinking in terms of pay?”
“Um… can I get back to you on that?” I needed to do research on the area and what the going rate was for a chef.
“We’ll also give you full benefits after a month, and since you live out of town, we can offer you lodging in one of the standard rooms with full board until you decide your long-term plans.”
I choked on my coffee. Living at Sterling Pines? Where I’d have to see him every day? Where I might run into him in the hallways late at night? Where the memory of that kitchen kiss would haunt my every waking moment?
And then there were Liam and Evan, who I didn’t even want to think about.
“That’s very generous, but I think I’d prefer to keep some separation between work and... everything else.” Like my sanity. And my increasingly inappropriate thoughts about what that backward hat might mean about his... professional boundaries.
His shoulders relaxed slightly. “That’s probably wise.”
“Besides, it’s safer for everyone if I maintain some distance from temptation.” I immediately wanted to crawl under the table.
Archer’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought he might backtrack on the appropriate boundaries he’d set. Instead, he cleared his throat. “Tomorrow morning, eight AM? We can handle the paperwork and discuss hiring kitchen staff to replace the ones who quit. Tonight we can do what we did last night.”
Did that include ice cream and making out? My mind unhelpfully flashed back to the way his fingers had gripped my hair in that kitchen. The memory sent a wave of warmth through me. This whole “maintaining professional boundaries” thing was going to be about as easy as teaching a cat to tap dance.
“Perfect. Totally perfect. Completely and utterly—” His phone buzzed, cutting off what was surely going to be another embarrassing ramble.
He glanced at the screen and frowned. “I need to take this. It’s the resort’s lawyer.” He paused. “Well, the other lawyer. The one that’s not me.”
“Of course.” I stood up, gathering my things and standing. “I’ll see you tomorrow at eight. For completely professional purposes. With appropriate boundaries and everything.”
Why couldn’t I stop talking?
He chuckled as he lifted the phone to his ear. “Goodbye, Tessa.”
The cold air cooled my heated cheeks as I made my escape. I headed toward the bakery with more pep in my step than there had been in a while. My mind was already spinning with plans for the restaurant.
And then, like some divine intervention, the morning sun hit a red sign just right, making it practically glow. Above the bakery was a large window with a sign that read, “Studio For Rent. Month to month available.” I stopped dead in my tracks, nearly causing the person behind me to plow into me.
It was perfect. Close enough to the resort but far enough away to maintain those all-important boundaries. Plus, living above a bakery? That had to be a good omen, right?
I fumbled for my phone, quickly saving the number listed on the sign. This was it. This was my fresh start. New job, new place, new me. Probably a new wardrobe too since my SoCal wardrobe would not cut it in the arctic chill of the mountains.
The bakery’s bell chimed cheerfully as I pushed open the door to Sweet Cheeks, and I was immediately enveloped in the heavenly scent of butter, sugar, and fresh-baked bread. I was here on a business mission, but after the morning’s awkward coffee shop encounter, I needed something to lift my spirits, and carbs seemed like an excellent solution.
The interior of Sweet Cheeks was exactly what I’d imagine if Willy Wonka had opened a bakery instead of a chocolate factory. Display cases sparkled with perfectly arranged pastries, and whimsical signs with puns like “Life is what you bake of it” and “Don’t go bacon my heart” decorated the exposed brick walls.
A tall man with perfectly coiffed hair emerged from the back, carrying a tray of what looked like the most sinful chocolate croissants I’d ever seen. He set them down with a flourish that would have made Mary Berry proud.
“Welcome to Sweet Cheeks, where we put the ‘sweet’ in sweet talk and the ‘sass’ in croissant!” He paused, frowning. “That doesn’t work, does it? I’ve been workshopping new catchphrases.”
“I actually think croissants could use a little more sass.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m Tessa Callahan, the new chef at Sterling Pines, and I wanted to discuss potentially rekindling the vendor relationship.”
“Stop everything!” He clutched his chest dramatically. “They finally hired a real chef? Thank God, because the stories I’ve been hearing about their recent attempts at cuisine have been...”
“Tragic? Criminal? Diabolical?” The list was really endless.
“Oh, I like you already.” He extended his hand. “Adrian, owner, baker, and failed catchphrase creator extraordinaire.”
I shook his hand. “I’d love to try one of those croissants.”
He grabbed one of the chocolate croissants and placed it in a bag before handing it to me. I slid it out enough to take a bite and moaned. The chocolate was still warm, creating the perfect balance with the buttery, flaky layers.
“This is absolutely amazing. Why on earth would they cut ties?” It was almost like the three men were trying to sabotage the resort instead of continuing to help it flourish.
“I was told it wasn’t in the budget, but I honestly think it was because I kept telling them stories about Gavin.” A sad, wistful expression crossed his face.
I barely knew this man and wanted to walk around the counter and give him a hug. “Were you close with Gavin?”
“Yes.” He cleared his throat, not elaborating further. “I’m glad you’re fixing what those idiots seem hell-bent on destroying.”
It felt like we were about to head down a path I didn’t want to go down, considering I was working for them now, so I decided to change the subject. I couldn’t make any new contract with Adrian anyway, not without the go-ahead and budget information.
“I saw a sign that there’s a studio apartment available upstairs. Are you in charge of that?”
“Girl, this is literally fate calling.” His face lit up, and he bounced a little on his toes. “Would you like a tour? It’s got original hardwood floors, exposed brick walls, and the most Instagram-worthy bay window you’ve ever seen.”
“That sounds perfect.” Finding an apartment above a bakery seemed like the universe was finally throwing me a bone or, more accurately, a croissant. Plus, waking up to the smell of fresh-baked goods every morning? That was the kind of silver lining I needed.
The studio above the bakery had been perfect, and Adrian was a gem of a human and was even going to furnish the space for me. I’d be moving in when my stay at the resort ended.
Before returning to the resort, I’d found a department store to find passable chef attire. Wearing jeans and my boots wasn’t ideal for a restaurant kitchen environment.
When I pushed through the kitchen doors, ready to tackle my first official dinner service, I stopped dead in my tracks. Liam stood at the center prep station, surrounded by lunch-related carnage.
Looking on in horror alongside two other kitchen staff members, I watched Liam’s increasingly frantic attempts to assemble what might have once been intended as a sandwich.
My fingers twitched with the urge to intervene as he fumbled with ingredients like they were from a different century. The other employees wore expressions that matched how I felt: a mixture of fascination and secondhand embarrassment, like watching someone try to parallel park an SUV in a spot meant for a small car.
“That’s...” I bit my lip, trying to find a diplomatic way to say ‘absolutely horrifying.’ “...an interesting technique.”
Liam looked up, relief washing over his features. “Thank God. Please tell me you’re here to take over lunch.”
“Dinner prep, actually.” I set my bag down and pulled out an apron. “But I can’t watch this continue. That poor innocent bread doesn’t deserve this treatment.”
He stepped back from the counter, hands raised in surrender. “Be my guest. I’m better at throwing myself down mountains than making food anyway.”
From my understanding, he was the best at cooking of the three men, but clearly that was limited in scope. It was like saying someone was the best swimmer in the Sahara Desert. I’d seen five-year-olds with play kitchens demonstrate better knife skills.
I approached the disaster zone, assessing the situation. Vegetables were scattered across the cutting board like victims of an aggressive game of Fruit Ninja. A block of cheese had been mutilated rather than sliced, and there was literally mayonnaise everywhere except on the bread.
“Okay, first of all, why are you trying to make fancy grilled sandwiches for lunch?” I was already reaching for a clean cutting board. They should be making simple things that didn’t require twenty components or a lot of prep work.
“The menu says ‘artisanal grilled cheese with seasonal vegetables.’” The male employee, Mike, handed over a piece of paper. “We don’t even know what seasonal vegetables mean since no vegetables grow in the snow.”
I closed my eyes and counted to three. “Right. And who wrote this menu?”
“Evan thought it would class things up a bit.” Liam snorted. “He had it sent out and posted before I could stop him. This is what happens when Archer has a day off.”
Of course he did. “All right, new plan. Mike, grab the tomato soup from the walk-in. The boxed stuff will do for today, and we can spruce it up with fresh croutons, herbs, and freshly grated parmesan. Jenny, find me three different kinds of cheese. Liam...” I paused, examining his face, and then my attention fell to a glob of mayo on his shirt. “Watch and learn.”
He smirked and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “I can do that.”
Focus, Tessa. You have dinner prep to do and absolutely no time to notice how his t-shirt pulls across his shoulders and biceps.
I shook my head and got to work, showing them how to prep several sandwiches at once to cut down on time. They caught on fast and were flying through lunch service when I finally was able to start my own prep. I realized I was going to need actual kitchen staff, and soon. There was no way I could handle dinner service alone every night, especially once people realized the food was edible again.
“You’re good at this.” Liam wiped sweat from his brow as he handed off a perfectly golden grilled cheese to a server. “Teaching and cooking.”
“Thanks, though I have to say, for someone who can teach people to hurtle down mountains strapped to a piece of fiberglass, you’re surprisingly good with a spatula.” I watched him flip another sandwich with unexpected grace, his movements becoming more confident with each order.
“What can I say? I take direction well.” The words rolled off his tongue with a hint of suggestion that made me fumble my knife. He must have noticed because his smile widened, clearly enjoying my reaction. “So, I noticed that you’d reserved one of our winter stargazing setups tonight…”
I nearly sliced my finger at the mention of the stargazing. I’d completely forgotten about all the romantic activities I’d booked when this was supposed to be my honeymoon and not my ‘surprise career change while emotionally unstable’ adventure.
“Oh, right. That.” I focused intently on chopping vegetables, avoiding Liam’s gaze. “I should probably cancel it. It’s not like I can take a snowmobile out there by myself, and it would be a waste.”
The thought of going alone to what was meant to be a romantic evening under the stars made my chest tight. The resort had a whole thing planned with champagne, an inflatable loveseat, and cozy blankets. Now it felt like another reminder of how spectacularly my life plans had derailed.
“I could take you.” Liam’s offer was casual, like he was suggesting picking up more tomato soup from the walk-in. “It would be a shame to waste such a clear night.”
I glanced up, trying to read his expression. Was this a pity offer? A friendly gesture? Or something more complicated that would violate those ‘appropriate boundaries’ Archer had been so keen on establishing?
“I don’t want to impose on your evening.” The idea of using the reservation was tempting. When was the last time I’d just sat and looked at the stars?
“You wouldn’t be.” He executed another flawless flip, and his movements had become so natural over the last hour that watching him was almost hypnotic.
This was dangerous territory. Very dangerous. The kind of dangerous that made me want to say yes despite all my better judgment screaming no. But wasn’t that what I was here for? Maybe it was time to be someone new.
“So?” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you say? Want to see why we’re called Sterling Pines under a sky full of stars?”
“Okay,” I found myself saying. “But only if you promise not to let me fall off the snowmobile.”
“Deal.” His smile widened. “Though I should warn you, falling is kind of my specialty. Just ask my snowboarding students.”
I pointed my knife at him playfully. “That’s not reassuring at all.”
“Meet me at the activities desk after service?” There was something in his voice that made my stomach do a little flip.
I nodded, already wondering if I was making a huge mistake. But as I watched him prepare another sandwich, I couldn’t bring myself to regret saying yes.
Besides, it was only stargazing. With a gorgeous man. In a romantic setting. With champagne. Under a blanket of stars. Completely professional. Totally appropriate.
Oh, who was I kidding? I was in so much trouble.