Leo
Yes, chef.
I’d heard those words countless times in my career. Never in my fucking life had they stirred such a reaction as when Eliza said them in her sexy, sultry voice.
I needed to get a fucking grip.
The tastings with the staff this week had gone well, and everyone seemed to enjoy the food.
That feeling of people loving my food and being eager for more never got tiring.
In fact, it made me realize how much I missed it.
There were many differences between fine dining and a local bar and grill, but one of the big ones was how people acted while they were there.
It wasn’t that people at a fine dining restaurant didn’t enjoy the food, but in my experience, they were less likely to show their unfiltered emotion.
The dinner was more of an event or an experience where appearances mattered.
I’d just finished talking to Wes about the final details for the spring menu launching tonight. Ray didn’t get in for another hour, so I figured I’d get started on prep work.
When I got to the kitchen, I hadn’t expected Eliza to be at the counter, two boxes of lemons and limes next to her. She was cutting the citrus fruits into wedges and then tossing them into their respective containers.
Well, cutting was the closest word to describe what she was doing, which was incredibly painful to watch. Before she had a chance to cut her fingers off, I grabbed one of my knives, a cutting board, and a lemon. Against my better judgment, I set up next to her.
“Oh, you don’t have to help me.”
I huffed a laugh. “Trust me, I do.”
She stopped, turning toward me and popping her hip. “I can cut some lemons and limes.”
“I thought you were going to chop a finger off with how you were mauling that lemon.”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry I don’t have fancy chopping technique with skilled fingers and big tattooed hands.” She gestured toward my hands with her knife.
“Easy, Trouble,” I murmured with a chuckle, reaching for her knife. I gently unwrapped her fingers and slipped it from her, setting it on the counter.
She, surprisingly, didn’t protest, and instead said, “Yes, chef.”
There were those two damn words again.
Eliza leaned against the counter, watching as I worked.
“You been looking at my big tattooed hands?” I asked, a smirk tugging at my mouth.
“No,” she scoffed. “And did I say big? I meant average.”
I barked a laugh. “Oh, baby, there’s nothing average about me.” The words slipped out before I had a chance to stop them.
Eliza’s lips parted, amusement with a hint of mischief in her eyes. “I wouldn’t know. Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”
My cock twitched as I thought about what she’d look like sprawled on my bed—
What did I not understand about not crossing the line? Here I was inching closer and closer.
“How do you make it look so easy?” she asked, thankfully snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Here, I can show you,” I offered, gesturing for her to pick up the knife while I set mine down.
“First, you’ll want to use what’s called a pinch grip on the knife,” I instructed once she had it in her hand. “May I?” I asked, my fingers reaching for her hand to show her how to hold it.
Eliza looked up at me with those deep-brown eyes and then flicked her gaze to my hand. Her tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. “Of course, chef. You’re the boss here.”
I couldn’t tell if Eliza knew what she was doing or the effect she had on me. Frankly, I had no idea the effect she had on me, either. All I knew was that my fingers itched to touch her, and I was suddenly aware of my heart pounding in my chest.
I stepped behind her, leaving an inch of space between us.
I set one hand over hers, guiding her to hold the knife with the proper grip to ensure control and prevent the knife from wobbling.
Her thumb was on one side of the blade with her pointer finger bent on the opposite side.
Her other three fingers held the handle.
“See how when you hold it like this you have full control over the knife?”
“Yes.” The word came out more breathless than I anticipated, and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply and thinking of anything else to prevent my cock from twitching in my pants. Again.
Except when I inhaled, all I smelled was Eliza—jasmine and amber mixing with the citrus in front of us.
Fuck.
“Leo?”
I cleared my throat. “Yeah?”
“I asked what’s next.” I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Right. Okay, you’ll want to use what’s called a claw grip on whatever you’re cutting. Tuck your fingers like a claw with your fingertips underneath. Your knuckles act like a guide for the knife blade.”
Eliza followed my instructions and nodded for me to continue.
“For the actual cutting or chopping, you want to use a rocking motion. Keep the tip of the knife on the cutting board and rock the base of the knife up and down.”
I kept my hands over Eliza’s for the first couple of slices, feeling her soft skin under mine. Unlike me, she didn’t have any scars or scraps on her knuckles.
“Look at you,” I said, bracing my hands on the side of the counter, staying close because I couldn’t bring myself to step away from her just yet. “You’re a natural.”
Eliza moved slowly but kept the proper technique. After a moment, she stopped slicing and turned her head to look up at me, exposing the side of her neck. My eyes instinctively drifted to her smooth skin, the perfect slope, and my heart pounded harder. Faster.
“I don’t think I’ll be going as fast as you anytime soon, but that was easier than I thought,” she admitted, a sparkle in her eye. “You’re a good teacher.”
My hands gripped the side of the counter tightly until my knuckles grew white. Finally, putting myself out of my misery, I stepped away, moving to stand next to her instead.
The corner of her mouth tipped down for a millisecond, and I’d almost missed it. Maybe we’d both liked that more than we wanted to admit.
So, I did the one thing I could. I stuck my goddamn foot in my mouth and brought up the one thing that would snap us both out of it.
“Did you end up calling Colin back?”
At first, I’d thought Colin would be on the list of things we didn’t talk about, but I was wrong. We needed to talk about him. I needed the reminder of why we couldn’t do this. That and I didn’t do casual. And I needed to help my mom sell her house. And I was here temporarily.
Whatever chance we had three years ago was gone.
Eliza blinked, clearly not expecting my question. “Uh, no, I didn’t. Did he call you?”
I shook my head.
“I don’t know why he would’ve called,” she said, resuming slicing the lemon. “Is everything okay?”
“I’m sure everything’s fine. It’s Colin. Nothing’s a big deal to him.” There was more bitterness in my tone than I’d expected and more than I’d wanted to let on. I picked up my own knife and grabbed another fruit, keeping my head down.
A beat of heavy silence passed before she spoke up again. “He saw you in Portland, didn’t he? Did…something happen?”
“No,” I sighed. “Not anything more than the usual. You know how he is. It was all pretty last-minute. He and a few buddies flew out and crashed with me. Since my work schedule was made before I knew he was going to come out, I wasn’t able to take time off.
I tried to meet up with them for a drink after my shift, but it was tough getting ahold of him and by then… ” I shrugged.
“That’s shitty,” she murmured.
My grip on the knife tightened as I focused, my knuckles going white. “I thought he’d grow up by now. Pull back on the partying.”
I knew where all this baggage with my brother was coming from, but I didn’t know why I was unloading it on Eliza of all people. She didn’t need to shoulder what I was carrying.
I knew, deep down, that I was partially to blame for how nonchalant my brother was. When we were kids, if something went wrong, I fixed it. When something needed to be done, I did it.
In high school, I’d spent most of my nights cooking dinner while Mom finished up work or drove Colin to sports. When Colin was in high school, he spent most nights with friends and most weekends going out.
If our mom needed something, I just did it without telling him or asking him for help.
Some habits died hard, I guessed. With how quickly the move came together, I couldn’t even remember if I’d told him that I wasn’t in Portland anymore. Or that I was helping Mom with the house.
Surprised that Eliza was staying quiet, I looked over, only to find her worrying her bottom lip. She had something to say but was holding back. That seemed unlike her.
I raised a brow, and she let go of her lip.
“He hasn’t changed much, has he?” she said. “I saw him last summer in Madison, and it was more of the same. Maybe it’ll be different now that you’re closer?”
My lips pressed in a thin line, a tinge of jealousy shooting through me. Jealousy I knew I had no right feeling.
Of course, Colin and Eliza had seen each other. They both lived in the area. They’d ended on decent terms, from the little I knew. It made sense. Sort of.
It wasn’t any of my business that they’d seen each other or what they did. Nope. Not even going to ask about it.
“Yeah, maybe.” I sighed, setting my knife on the counter with more force than I would’ve liked.
Eliza’s eyes flicked to my hand, and if she sensed any of the tension emanating from me, she didn’t say anything.
I scooped the lime wedges into the container.
“I should call him. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken.
” I hadn’t talked to him since New Year’s, if that even counted.
It was mid-April. All that likely confirmed that I hadn’t told him about the new job or the move. Hopefully, Mom had said something.
Once we’d finished the prep, Eliza grabbed the two cardboard boxes the fruits had been in and started breaking them down. “And then when you talk to him”—she looked up at me, fluttering her dark eyelashes—“you can see why he called me and give me the details.”
I snorted a laugh. “I’ll leave that to you. I’m not getting involved with whatever is going on between you two.”
Eliza rolled her eyes and stood up straight, facing me. “There’s absolutely nothing going on between Colin and me.” Her firm tone didn’t leave any room for misunderstanding. “I’m not getting back together with him, and I don’t want you to think that.”
“Why not?”
“Why am I not getting back together with him? Or why do I want you to know that?” she asked, tucking the cardboard under her arm. She raised an eyebrow, as if she was daring me.
So, maybe we both were dancing around the line we didn’t dare to cross.
My jaw ticked under the pressure of her stare, and I ran a hand over my beard. “Both, I guess.” I stopped there. If she wanted to get more out of me, then she’d have to ask.
“Well, I have no interest in getting back together with him because we didn’t work out for a reason, and I don’t feel like he really got me when we were together.
” Eliza rolled her lips. My gaze dropped to the curve of her mouth, watching how it opened and closed as if she wanted to say more.
But she stopped there. Looked like if I wanted to know more, I had to ask, too.
“And I want you to know that I’m not getting back together with him, so you don’t accidentally give him the wrong idea when you talk with him and ask why he called me. ”
“Fine,” I conceded. “I’ll ask why he called you. Doesn’t mean he’ll tell me anything, though.”
Eliza perked up, her lips spreading into a satisfied smile. “Pleasure doing business with you, chef.” With the cardboard still under her arm, she reached for the two containers of fruit and sauntered off.
I’d like to say I was a better man and wasn’t hypnotized by the way her hips swayed or how her jeans molded to her curves. But who was I kidding? I didn’t stand a fucking chance.