Chapter 2
Alec
I have a strict routine, one I always stick to—unless my new neighbor sets off her smoke alarm and wakes me up.
I’m still irritated about it as I stomp around my apartment. I’m a chef, one of the top-rated in the country. I’ve run Michelin Star restaurants and worked in some of the most prestigious restaurants in the world.
Now I’m looking for a change.
I’m bored. I’ve lost all inspiration, all passion. I need to spice things up, make a drastic change in the hopes that it knocks something loose inside me.
That’s why I’m in this small town in the middle of nowhere, Oregon. It’s why I bought a steakhouse here that I’m hoping to elevate and make a destination restaurant. I’ve got big plans for this place, plans that I’m going to need my sleep for.
I growl as I pace around my apartment’s tiny kitchen.
I know I owe my curvy neighbor an apology for acting like a sleep-deprived jerk, but I doubt she wants to hear from me tonight. Guilt claws at my chest, and I rub the ache, hoping to ease it, but it’s no use.
My routine and sleep schedule have been messed up since I moved here and changed multiple time zones. I’ve been grumpy for the last few days, and even more of an asshole than I usually am. I need to get my sleep schedule and everything else figured out, but for tonight, that goal is ruined.
I clean up my apartment and finish unpacking the last of the boxes. I don’t have much, so it only took me two days to get everything in its place here in my new home.
Now what? I think after I’ve broken down the last box. There’s nothing else for me to do around here.
I grab my keys off the counter and head out of my apartment and down to my car. I make the short drive to Palmer’s Steakhouse and park in the rear, taking the back entrance inside and straight into the kitchen. I’m not scheduled to take over until tomorrow, but I have nothing else to do, so…
“Alec!”
I turn to see Rodney, the previous owner. He’s retiring but agreed to stay on for a few more days until I get settled.
“Hey, how’s it going tonight?” I ask as the rest of the staff bustles about.
“Good, we’re pretty full tonight with reservations. Everything is in order. You said you wanted to go over the menu again?” Rodney asks.
“Yeah, I’ll be looking at the menu and our suppliers.”
“Well, you’re free to use the office. Make yourself at home.”
“Thanks,” I say, heading to the small office tucked off the kitchen.
I bury myself in reports and cookbooks for a few hours. I’m still lost on menu ideas, but I’ve got some leads on suppliers, and I think I’ve met all the staff.
“How did it go?” Rodney asks, appearing in the doorway.
“Good.”
“Well, tomorrow it will be all yours.”
“Are you going to miss it?”
He smiles crookedly. “Yeah, I think I will, but it’s time. I’m excited to spend some time with my family. I’m ready for this next chapter in my life. I’ll leave all the late-night craziness to you young kids.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything we need to go over?” he asks as he grabs his keys from the desk.
“I don’t think so. Oh, wait, yeah, what’s this?” I show him a Post-it note I found.
“Oh, that’s for the monthly cooking classes.”
“Cooking classes?”
“Yeah, every month we do a cooking class. It’s usually every Monday, but you can switch days if that suits you better.”
“I’ll probably cancel it,” I admit.
He shrugs. “You can, but they’re good for business. Plus, the people for this month’s class have already paid. I think registration closes tomorrow.”
“Great,” I grumble.
“Loosen up. It’s not that bad.” Rodney laughs. “It’s two hours once a week. Besides, you might find that you’re a better chef if you’re not so rigid.”
I grunt as Rodney claps me on the back and leaves. I hear him telling the staff goodbye, and I hide in the office until the restaurant is quiet. Then I push to my feet and go out to inspect the kitchen.
The place is spotless. I smile, pleased that the staff is so competent.
Now if I could just figure out a new menu…
I yawn as I leave through the back door, locking up before walking back to my car. I make the short drive home, trying to clear my head as I park out front of the apartment building.
The menu will come in time. I hope. I’m dreading the classes, but I figure I can suffer through a few hours. At least for this month.
It’ll be okay, I promise myself.
I climb the stairs to my floor, my gaze straying to my neighbor’s door. I pause on the top step and stare at her place. The guilt returns, and I swallow hard.
I sigh as I turn and enter my apartment. The door closes behind me, and I trudge into my bedroom, collapsing onto the bed.
My eyes drift shut, and I fall asleep, dreaming about curvy hot blondes and whipped cream.