13. Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Thirteen
Sam
I am not sure why I thought this was a good idea. Probably has something to do with the fact that Addie is the first person in forever to make me laugh. And put me in my place. It’s probably more of the latter. For being the bubbliest person I’ve ever met, she knows how to bust balls like no one's business. Seeing her cry was like a punch to the gut. So, I did the only thing I could think of: take her to my happy place.
And I offered to drive in a desperate attempt to get more of her.
“Well, Prince Charming, where are you taking me?” she asks me from the passenger seat.
“I need to prove to you that Cal is a rookie in the kitchen compared to me.” The best way to impress a woman is to do it through her stomach. Once again, why am I wanting more of her? This is a bad idea, and I already know it.
“Damn, your ego is really that fragile. How have you ever survived in the wild?”
I scoff at that. “My ego is not sensitive. I’m a professional cook. Obviously, I’m the better cook.”
“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night. Also, you only explained what we are doing, but where are we headed?” She looks over at me and the glow from the city lights bounce off her face, making her look even more beautiful. She has her long, red hair tied up into a delicate top knot. Somehow, she looks just as classy in fitted jeans and a sweater as she does in her dressed-up work attire.
“We’re headed toward Flambé. It’s where I work. The owner lets me come down and experiment with food and recipes on days we are closed, and it just so happens that we’re closed every Monday. What is your favorite thing to eat?”
“Wow, starting out with the hard questions, huh?” She taps her chin, deep in thought. “Okay, this is the most basic answer, but I feel like you can't beat a really good mac and cheese. Or biscuits and gravy. Chicken alfredo is good, too, though.”
“We’ll go with the first one. If I make the best mac and cheese of your life, you have to admit I’m a better cook than my brother.”
“Okay, and if you don’t, what do I get?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
“A lifetime of rubbing it in my face that my brother can cook better than me.”
“Oooh, we’re bringing in the sibling rivalry? I like it. You’ve got a deal.”
We pull up to Flambé, and its matte black exterior mixed with murals of flames makes the place really stand out. Walking in the back doors, I immediately feel more relaxed. The kitchen is my safe haven, and this particular one is my favorite.
“All right, over here are the walk-in fridge and walk-in freezer.” I open the door so she can see inside, and we get blasted by a rush of cold air. “Don’t piss off the bus boys or they will lock you in there. Don’t ask how I know.” She follows as I give her the grand tour. “This space back here stores all our dry goods: pasta, beans, and whatever else we need it to.”
“Now, when it comes to the cooking stations, we have a few spots. The first island,” I run my hand across the butcher block top, “is used to cut vegetables. Can you guess why we don’t cut meat on here?”
She gives me the deer in the headlights look, which answers all my questions. Good cook, but knows jack shit about food safety. “We can’t use butcher block on meat since it would absorb the juices and bacteria, making it a breeding ground. We only use the stainless steel tops to prepare meat with just in case.”
“Do you not use a cutting board?”
“We do when we cut the meat, but we still don't want to risk it. And, sometimes, once it is prepared, it sits off to the side, while the rest gets prepped.” She nods, and I point to the stainless steel top.
“Here is where we prep the meat, and we have little basins to help hold them all to temperature.” We move on to the next little station, and Addie runs her hands across the cold stainless steel as we pass it.
“Now, this is my favorite: the main line. This is where the magic happens. We get all the plain prepped items and turn it into something delicious. Tonight, we will make some grown-up mac and cheese.” She claps her hands in excitement, and I can’t help but smile.
Addie follows closely behind as I walk over to the food storage and gather our ingredients. Heavy cream, milk, butter, flour, breadcrumbs, noodles, a handful of herbs and spices, and some chicken, because we want this to be a real meal. I start running out of room in my hands when I grab some brussels sprouts and stuff to make a glaze. So, I pile it in Addie’s arms, and then head on back to our station.
I tap my hand on the counter as an indication for Addie to sit.
“Oh no, buddy. I am not just going to sit here. Give me a job.”
“Okay, but please don’t cut off your fingers. I like my job here and would like to keep it.”
She brings her hand to her chest, faking insult. “First of all, I’m a professional chopper. You should put some respect on my name.”
Yeah, I’ll believe her when I see it. I’ve heard plenty of people say they have good knife work, and half of them end up in the ER.
I go under the workstation, where we have our tools and extra appliances hidden, and pull out a mandolin. And because I don’t trust her to not shave her fingertips off, I also grab a thick rubber glove we use on new hires without any experience.
“Here. Can you shred these brussels sprouts?” I ask, setting the mandolin down in front of her, along with the glove.
“How many should I do?”
Gauging the size of them, I say, “Eh, let’s go with about ten per person. They will cook down quite a bit.”
“Alrighty, captain, I’m on it.” She gives a salute and starts to slice away. Her knife work is pretty impressive; everything is equally sized, and she moves with ease.
We work silently for a while, and I can tell it is killing Addie. She looks over at me and opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it. Multiple times. Eventually, she loses the battle.
“What made you want to be a chef?” She pauses her chopping to look over at me.
“I think it is always what I was meant to do. I love cooking; it grounds me. Zoning out and creating things people love is really rewarding.”
Her gaze lingers on my face before replying, “That is really nice.”
“Yeah, my mom and I spent a lot of time in the kitchen together. Liv was never interested in cooking, and Cal and my dad were always doing what my dad called ‘boy things.’ He always said that women want a man's man. Whatever the fuck that means.” It’s not like I can’t do the stereotypical boy things, like changing a tire. I just preferred cooking over football, and then I preferred chasing this career over a boring corporate job. Good for him and Cal, but it isn’t meant for me.
“What, cooking wasn't manly enough? Tell me you’re insecure without telling me.”
The laugh leaves my lips before I even think about it.
“Yeah, it doesn’t bug me as much anymore. I’m happy, and he can either figure his shit out or figure his shit out with one less son.” Only part of that is a lie. I wish my dad would be as proud of me as he is his other kids, but his pride and love come with terms and conditions that I am not willing to meet.
“You know, I know it’s not my business, but Isla has mentioned your dad being a dick to Cal, too. When he and Isla started dating, he was putting a lot of pressure on Cal because he was choosing to spend time with Isla and taking time off.”
Well, that is a new development.
“Really?”
“Yeah, it was a part of the reason Isla moved out here so fast; Cal had to put him in his place. Sometimes, being the golden child isn’t so easy either. Just keep that in mind. Cal isn’t your dad. If he was, I sure as hell wouldn’t be letting my best friend marry him.”
“You’ve got experience with the golden child thing?”
“I used to. I think I have a case of 'peaked at twenty-two.' Both my parents are incredibly supportive. So, I can’t relate on that end. I take the disappointment into my own hands.”
“So, my pep talk from the other day didn’t work?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
“No, it was really nice, and it helped. I’m coming to terms with no longer being the front-runner at accomplishing things.”
“Well, if it counts for anything, you are one of the few people on the planet I can tolerate for more than three minutes, and that is a pretty high achievement.” The second she stood up for me at dinner, I knew I was done for. She was different.
My comment seems to do the trick. Her smile beams at me, and I swear I can feel a little flicker of something in my chest.
“And you’re not quite as much of an asshole as I originally thought you were.”
“Quite as much?” I ask, quirking my head.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong, you still have some jackass in you. But I like it, anyways.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that came up if I tried. “Yeah, yeah. Get back to work. Those aren’t going to shred themselves.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Yes, Chef.”
Her words shoot straight to my cock, and I have to busy myself to try to make my body forget how much I liked her saying that. Yes, Chef. Fuuuck, that’s hot.
We get back to the swing of things and settle into comfortable conversation. She follows my directions and gets the brussels sprouts nice and crispy as I pull the mac and cheese out of the oven. The breadcrumbs created the perfect exterior.
Dishing up a plate, I put hers in front of her and anxiously await her reaction. Do I know it's good? Yeah. Does having her taste my cooking for the first time in the kitchen I love so much make me super nervous? Also, yeah. It’s like my manhood and pride are on the line with freaking mac and cheese.
“Well?” I search her face, trying to find a hint of anything going on, but my eyes wander over her face and land on her lips. I find myself blatantly staring for a second and wondering what it would be like to kiss her, before her eyes make their way back to my face.
“Meh.” She shrugs her shoulder, “for as much trash as you talk, I thought this would be better. The sauce is a little chalky.” I scan her face for a sign of sarcasm but come out blank.
“Bullshit, let me try.” I wonder if the sauce separated from the cheese. I used freshly grated, so it should have melted into the béchamel just fine.
“Damn, do you get your panties in a wad over being the next Iron Chef of Maine, or what?”
I scoot her over with a bump of my hips and take a bite off her plate.
“You asshole, I thought I fucked this up,” I say, before she stumbles into me after bouncing off the stove. I grab her forearms as she comes to a stop in front of me.
Face-to-face like this, the tension between us crackles like a flame. I’m trying to come up with a good reason to not kiss her, but as her full lips part open—practically begging for my attention—I lose the willpower and slowly lean in. Her body gravitates closer to mine, until we are chest to chest. She rises to her toes just as the door in the back slams closed. We both jump and separate as quickly as possible.
When I see who it is, I can’t help but groan. Can’t a man catch a fucking break?
The bane of my existence—Linsey.
“OMG, Sam! There you are. I was texting you, and you weren’t answering. So, I figured I’d find you here. Whatcha doing?” Her smile slips from her face when she sees Addie’s body slip out from mine to stand behind me. “Oh. Who do we have here?”
“This is my friend, Addie. Addie, this is Linsey.”
She gives Addie the most pathetic head nod and looks back my way. “I’m glad I finally tracked you down. I was texting you to see if you wanted to go out and get some drinks tonight.” She reaches over and puts a hand on my arm.
Oh no. This is not going to look good.
Shrugging her touch off—mostly because it makes my skin feel creepy and crawly, and I don’t want Addie to get the wrong idea—I reply: “I’m good, but thanks for the offer. We are a little busy here.” I gesture to the pans of food.
“No, you should go, Sam. I can head out. Thanks for the extra cooking lesson. It was helpful.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and I hate it.
“I drove you here. It’s okay, I don’t need to go.”
“Really, it’s not a problem. I already ordered a ride.” She waves her phone, and I can see the app open on it. "I’ll see you at next week’s lesson. Pleasure meeting you.” She waves to Linsey and quickly walks off. The urge to follow her has me taking a step forward, but she’s out of sight before I can blink.
Well, shit.
“Who was that?” My eyes roll at Linsey’s question.
Crossing my arms, I roll my neck and whip back around to face her. “I told you; Addie.”
“But, like, who is she?” The furrow to her brow and annoyance in her tone just add to my irritation.
“She's my brother’s fiancée's best friend. She’s been taking my cooking class.” My head drops and I drag my feet across the tiled floor to start picking up our dinner. I look at Addie’s plate, with only a bite taken out. Not only did she have a shit day, but I also added to it. Somehow, that makes me feel even worse.
“Oh, good. I was worried you might have been seeing someone. Especially with you playing all hard to get.” She puts her hand on my shoulder, attempting to flirt, but the motion causes me to recoil.
I throw my hands up in defeat. “For the love of all things holy, I was not playing hard to get. I am impossible for you to get. For the last time, I am not interested.” My face feels hot as my irritation turns to anger.
“You don’t have to be an ass about it.”
Fucking hell. Scrubbing my hands across my stubbled face, I try and gain some composure. My hands grip the edge of the table and my head hangs so I can look at the floor, because if I look at her face, I’m going to lose it. “I was nice about it the first twenty-four times. I am out of nice; I was nicer to you than I was to most people.”
“Well, have fun being miserable and alone. Guess I won’t be seeing you out tonight.”
“I guess not.” I wouldn’t be alone if she hadn’t been a cockblock. Or kiss block. But that doesn’t sound as good.
Cleaning up our mess, I think of ways to explain this to Addie that don’t make me look like a total asshat. Not that she will believe me. I feel like I just blew it before I could even have the chance to start it.