26. Chloe
twenty-six
We end up making the mac’n cheese balls and the gazpacho while Alex films us and takes close-up photos of the foods, standing on a chair so she can have a perfect looking-down angle. We drink more coffee, make more food, and finally end up having a late lunch on the porch. At some point Justin carries our plates inside, and Alex and I get lost in our chatting. Then Justin comes back out with glasses of water for the two of us and says, “This was fun.”
Then he hops in his truck with Moose on the passenger seat.
And then he’s gone, and I feel a little lost. He didn’t even look directly at me before leaving.
The dust isn’t yet settled on my dirt driveway when Alex says, “You guys worked out okay, after all.”
Us guys? Justin is going to hate that. “Oh—you got the wrong impression. I could tell you thought something was going on when you came in, but—there wasn’t.”
She looks out to where the truck disappeared, mischief in her gaze. “Does Justin know that?”
“Justin doesn’t want anything,” I say and immediately regret it. I’ve exposed myself. Oh well.
She stands and stretches. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.” My heart does a little skip at her words. She has a glow about her that’s a testimony to how happy she is in her love life, and while I’m envious of her in a good way, I’m also aware that she’s bound to look at everything with rose-tinted glasses.
We both go inside with our empty glasses.
The kitchen is shipshape clean, the leftovers boxed and labeled in the fridge, my notebook closed with the pen on top of it the only trace of what happened here.
“Holy crap!” Alex lets out a cascading laughter. “He’s definitely a keeper,” she adds as she bags her tripod.
“Alex,” I say as I walk her to the door. “I’m—I’m serious. About earlier. Nothing happened between Justin and me.” I can see where Justin is coming from. Small towns have a way to obliterate your privacy in a way that can seem stifling, and maybe that’s one reason why he’s so careful about not having any crossover with whatever he does when he’s not in Emerald Creek. I don’t take Alex for a gossip, but I’m feeling oddly protective of Justin. “Nothing happened today,” I hammer. At least that’s the truth.
Her gaze, playful earlier, gets deeper as she pauses on the threshold and turns to me. “Okay,” she says softly. “But I hope something does. Fast.”
I let out a deep sigh once she’s gone.
Justin nearly kissed me, and I wanted him to.
So much.
Was it just the heat of the moment?
Will we have this again?
Will he create the opportunity again? Should I tell him something?
And why is he flirting with me? He knows who I am. He has to know I want him, right? There can’t be a doubt in his mind. I’m like a blushing teenager around him. He has to see that.
I wipe my hands on my thighs as I stand right where we were when he licked his finger, set his arm against the counter and against my waist, drilled his gaze into my eyes and all but told me he wished he was eating food out of my mouth.
My inner parts beat painfully at the memory.
My horniness is embarrassing.
The truth of the matter is, I had fun today. For the first time in a long time. I had fun doing a simple thing I don’t get to do enough: cooking. And it was effortless with Justin. We fell into it like two old friends. We shared the same codes, laughed together.
It felt so good. So easy. So natural with him.
I wrap my arms around my middle, suddenly feeling lonely without him. I shake myself together, go upstairs, and take another quick shower. I swap the bulky track suit for capris and a T-shirt and head to the restaurant. I’m confused and hopeful about how my relationship with Justin has taken a turn for the better. I take my time driving to the village, windows rolled down, air in my hair, noticing the lush pastures, two horses galloping playfully, the lake glistening in the distance.
Life is beautiful.
Rosy glasses, Chloe.
Samuel is there alright, two black eyes and a big-ass cast on his nose. I almost feel sorry for him—that’s how bad he looks. “Chef, you look like… like you should stay home. For a couple more days at least.”
He slices his gaze at me. “Got a job to do.” He hands me a wad of papers. “Here you go.” It’s the menu costing.
“Are you cleared to work?”
“You don’t want me here?”
“Of course I do. I just want to make sure…” This guy’s ego is so oversized, I’m not sure how to handle it. “You know what, never mind. Thanks for being here. Let me know if I can do anything.”
I retreat to the office and open his menu costing. Then I open the file Corine created on my computer and compare the two.
And they’re very different.
Samuel’s recipes include a lot more of the expensive ingredients, like saffron. His foie gras appetizer calls for one-hundred and twenty grams of the duck delicacy, when Corine’s inputs it at forty grams.
I go back into the kitchen.
“Guys, we need a recipe book. With weights and all that shit.” I make it sound like I don’t know what I’m talking about. Then just to show solidarity, I add, “Owners request it.” I do know a little more than what I’m letting on, and Brendan and Aunt Dawn gave me free rein, but keeping Samuel in the dark about where my mind is, is key. “Chef, I think Corine could use the overtime hours, if you want to delegate that to her.”
“Nah. I’ll do it.”
“Great. You and I need to meet about the fair. When you have a minute.”
He drops his knife and turns toward me, leaning his hip against the prep counter. “I’m running a fine dining kitchen. You want to have fun, go for it. But don’t think one second I’ll have my name mixed into that.”
I let his snarky remark about me having fun slide. Actually, I do plan on having fun. And I’ll also work my ass off, but that’s beside the point.
I pretend to look relieved, and maybe I am. “Glad you said that. I’ll take over the fair. We’re expecting an influx of visitors in town as well as on the grounds. So be ready for a larger than usual crowd. Can you handle being open all day that Saturday? We need to start bringing in more revenue.”
The ‘Can you handle’ provokes him in a good way, just like I anticipated. “Whatever you need, boss.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope! Just the recipe book. My uncle’s family is expecting my report by early next week,” I lie. “And that analysis needs to be part of it.”
He nods. “Talk to you for a second?” he asks, his chin pointing to the walk-in cooler.
“I’ll be in my office.”
Surprisingly, he follows me. I flop into my chair. “Take a seat,” I say. “What’s up?”
He leans his imposing stature against the door, towering over me instead of sitting at my level and effectively preventing anyone from coming in. I don’t know if that’s a strategy or second nature. I’m thinking the latter. “You’re getting awful cozy with Justin King.”
Um… define cozy? “What do you mean?” I cross my legs but catch myself before I cross my arms. I need him to feel like he can talk to me.
“The whole fair thing, that’s not something Kevin would have done. Ever. And it’s not because I don’t like it. I mean obviously, it’s not the right place to be for an establishment of our caliber. But besides that, Kevin would never have cozied up to King.”
“I’m confused,” I admit.
He narrows his eyes on me. “King has been trying to get the restaurant closed for a long time. Started before my time. Kevin told me about it. When King bought the building, Kevin already had the lease, and King tried to get out of it, but it was locked down. I’m not sure how, I don’t know the specifics, and it’s none of my business. But I know what Kevin told me, and I’m thinking he might not have told his widow, so maybe you don’t know either.”
“Go on,” I say, leaning back in my chair.
“For starters, you need to know King wants this space. To expand his pub, or for a wine bar for his sister. And he’s stopped at nothing to try get it. He’s sent us the health inspector under bullshit reasons. Took ages to repair a pipe leak that caused damage to our kitchen equipment. Had his friends post one-star reviews. Lets his dog shit on our portion of the sidewalk. You name it.”
“Okay,” I say, not sure what he wants me to do with this information.
“It may not seem like much, but I’m sure there was a lot more going on. That man,” he says, pointing to the wall separating us from the pub, “was constantly harassing him for no reason and didn’t act like a decent landlord. He stops at nothing to get what he wants.” His jaw twitches with anger. His nose and black eyes are testimony to Justin’s determination. Suddenly I’m back in the pub, Justin yelling at me when all he knew about me is that I was the new manager for the restaurant.
“I mean, there’s a reason why Kevin had a heart attack,” Samuel finishes, pushing himself from the door. “Days before it happened, King told Kevin it was only a matter of a few weeks for him to be shut down. Honestly, after Kevin passed, we were getting ready to close when you strutted in here with all your fancy ideas.”
Fancy ideas? As in, a menu costing? Cleaning the kitchen? I hide the sarcastic thoughts overwhelming me. The more I know Justin, the harder it is for me to believe what Samuel and Aunt Dawn are saying. Forget my attraction to the guy. He’s an all-around good person, and I’m not the only one to see it. “Thanks, Chef, appreciate the input.”
“Anytime,” he says, pushing himself from the door to leave.
“And, Chef? We’ll soon be opening seven days a week. I’m hiring all positions. You won’t have to work more days, unless you want to.”
He says nothing for a beat, then, “I’ll let you know.”
“Sure. Take your time.”
He nods and leaves, his slow, loud footsteps sounding through to the kitchen like he’s trying to mark his territory.
He didn’t express interest in the new hires. Didn’t ask to interview them.
Which can only mean he has no interest in the restaurant.
But Samuel’s admission that they were getting ready to close the restaurant nags at me. It fits with what Lynn said at the farm, but not with what Aunt Dawn and Brendan imparted to me. At all.
Then again, they knew nothing about how bad the restaurant’s situation was. They knew nothing, or didn’t tell me anything, about Uncle Kevin considering shutting down the restaurant. Or being forced into it.
Justin wants the space back. Could he have pushed Uncle Kevin too hard? Caused his heart attack, like Aunt Dawn and Samuel suggested?
Like I said to Justin my first day here, without really believing it myself.
But what if it was true?
Should I feel guilty for being attracted to Justin?