Chapter 3 #2
Chef Felix, the head chef, nodded. “The party who requested them have apparently survived and are onto their first course
now. You can take them.”
Luca immediately made to grab one, but Connor waved him away. “Nope. They’re going to fulfill a higher purpose than being
scarfed down by you.” He glanced over at his temporary boss. He wanted to think Felix had been joking with the survive remark, but there was nothing in the man’s expression to suggest that. “Is it okay if I take my break now?”
The guy waved him away. In his mid-fifties, Chef Felix had trained with Aaron, owner of the restaurant Connor worked in back
home. While Aaron had stayed in England and focused on getting his own place, Felix had gone on to work in hotel restaurants
across the globe before finally settling in his native Nantucket. He was a great teacher, but Connor found him very hard to
read and often wondered if Felix had agreed to Connor coming back for a second year only as a giant favor to Aaron, not because
he thought much of him.
Brushing the thought away, Connor picked up the tray and headed out of the kitchen, swerving past an amorous couple in the
corridor who clearly couldn’t move more than fifty yards without needing to grope each other. And fuck yeah, he was jealous.
He missed sex.
He’d once had so much of it, he’d worried his dick would fall off. Then Ellie had come along and . . . tumbleweed. Didn’t
mean he didn’t think about it.
Especially now, he thought with a jolt as he walked into the harbor-view lounge and his eyes collided with the startled hazel
of Olivia’s. Demure in black, she looked elegantly striking as she stood talking to her sisters.
“Oh, are they for us?” An attractive woman with vibrant red hair clapped her hands and gave him a flirty smile.
“Compliments of the kitchen.” He sent her a wink before setting the tray on one of the tables. How much easier it would be
if he found this smiley redhead even half as compelling as the woman who’d returned her attention to her sisters.
“Wow, that’s so kind of you.” He recognized Olivia’s niece as she joined them. She picked up one of the swirls and made a
happy noise as she wolfed it down. “Soooo good. Did you make them?”
“Do you think if I say yes, your aunt will be impressed?” And yes, his voice was deliberately loud enough for Olivia to hear.
The bride-to-be laughed. “Well, it does take a lot to impress her. I’m Sophie, by the way. And this is Chloe,” she added,
nudging the red-head. “Samaira is the one with long dark hair, then we have Nicole, who’s currently knocking back her second
glass of champagne—”
“Third.” Nicole, tall with brown hair in a pixie cut and a ring through her nose, waved her empty glass in the air.
“Gabrielle is rocking the very discreet jumpsuit.”
He laughed, the jumpsuit in question being a swirling pattern of fluorescent pink and neon green, which looked stunning against
Gabrielle’s brown skin.
“Of course you already know my aunts.” Sophie smirked. “Especially my youngest aunt.” Before Connor could say anything, Sophie
waved over to Olivia. “Hey, Aunt Olivia, come and try the canapés Connor made. They’re scrummy.”
With a big wink in his direction and a little giggle, Sophie stepped aside.
The elegant brunette in the beige capri trousers and simple black top sighed—yep, definitely fucking sighed. Then she fixed
a polite smile on her face and walked over to him, hazel eyes skirting up and down his chef’s whites.
“We meet again.” He grinned.
“You work here.”
“For the next few weeks, yes.” He bent slightly, making sure to catch her eye. “Do you believe in fate?”
She rolled her eyes. “I believe in making your own luck, your own destiny.” Her gaze dropped to the canapés. “Which do you
recommend?”
“One of each.” When she glanced back at him, he shrugged. “How do you know whether you like something if you don’t give it
a go?”
Her gaze narrowed. “Are we still referring to the canapés?”
Laughter barreled out of him. “You’re way too smart for me, but that’s okay. I’ve never backed down from a challenge.”
“Hey, Connor, are you strictly food or can you make drinks?” Chloe sauntered over and batted her eyelashes at him. “Champagne
is okay but we’re cocktail girls at heart.” She pointed over to the small bar. “And we don’t have anyone to serve us.”
“We can’t have that, now, can we?” He slipped behind the bar and took a quick inventory. “Cosmopolitan? Sex on the beach?
Or are you young ladies more porn-star martinis?”
“Yay, porn-stars.” Chloe sniggered. “Definitely appropriate for tonight.”
“Hey, what about us more mature ladies?”
He recognized Olivia’s sister, the one called Ashley, from last night. “Where?” He put his hand to his forehead and pretended
to search the room, his gaze deliberately landing on every one of them. Including Olivia. “I see only hot young women.”
Ashley fanned herself, laughing. “Oh, you’re good.”
“Sometimes.” His gaze slid to Olivia again. “I can also be bad when the occasion warrants it.”
His comment had them all shrieking. All except Olivia, who stared at him with a carefully neutral expression. It made him
really, really wanted to unbalance her. Ruffle her control.
With movements he’d choreographed as a cocky nineteen-year-old, he rolled the cocktail shaker down his arm and neatly caught
it, all while giving his hips a few thrusts. When cheers went up, he set the shaker down on the bar, grabbed a bottle of vodka,
threw it into the air, caught it with his other hand, and poured it into the shaker. Enjoying himself now, he repeated the
action with the rest of the ingredients. It had been years since he’d put on the moves. That teenage verve, the desire to
impress the opposite sex, had disappeared under the weight of nappies and nights of broken sleep.
After throwing and catching five glasses, he slid them onto the bar and poured out the cocktail as Sophie and her friends
whistled and clapped their hands.
Unable to help himself, he glanced at Olivia. A small smile played around her mouth. Daring him to make another move?
If so, challenge accepted.