Page 3 of Faking It with the Off-Limits Doctor

This time, I don’t even look at her when I nod, and a few seconds later, she turns and walks away.

With coffee in hand, I check my emails. They’re never ending, and I’m glad I have an assistant to deal with most of them. An assistant who has been with me for many years. An assistant who also thinks I’m nuts for buying a house just to secure a deal with a healthcare company.

Before I left the office last week, Barbara stopped me at the elevator, a worried frown lining her brow. “Are you sure you’re doing the right thing, Dr. Bennett?”

I smiled down at the wiry, middle-aged woman, who is as fanatical about her health as I am. “It’s a bit late now, Barbara. The house is bought.”

Of course, she knew that. It had been Barbara who had found the house. She had also, under my instruction, been the one who had dealt with the realtors and organized the contracts with the lawyers.

“Don’t worry. It will be fine,” I said, trying to put her mind at ease.

“But what if they realize…” she trailed off.

“Then I have a huge house in the country that I’ll need to get rid of,” I joked, stepping into the elevator. Before the doors closed, I said, “I’ll call you when I get out there.”

After dealing with some emails, I finish the last dregs of my coffee and then look up, trying to catch Beth’s eye.

Oh, now you want her attention.

I ignore my conscience, the bane of my life that punishes me far too often, and smile as Beth approaches.

“What can I get you?” she asks, flashing me her perfectly white teeth.

“Can I speak to the chef?” I ask.

Beth is clearly a little taken aback by the request, and with a look of doubt, she says, “I’ll have to go and check.”

I nod. “Thank you.”

Beth hurries off, and as I watch her, I’m already thinking about the menu for the first dinner party.

2

Dara

I wipe my forehead with my sleeve and toss the mushrooms in the pan. The kitchen is so hot today, and of course, the air conditioning is broken. Again! I shouldn’t really expect anything else from Chuck. He’s a cheapskate at the best of times.

It took me ages to finally convince him to buy better cuts of meat. He argued for weeks, until I explained that the better the meat, the more customers will come through your front door. I mean, it is Riverdale, not some bustling city. There’ll hardly be a stampede, but I do want him to keep the customers he has.

It’s the city I miss. I used to work in a restaurant that would make this place look like a hen house, but, well, let’s just say, things didn’t go as I planned, and so with my tail between my legs, I had to return home to lick my wounds.

Mark, my brother, let me stay at his place until I could get on my feet, and with few options for gourmet chefs in little ol’ Riverdale, I had to take the first job I thought I might actually like.

Joe’s Diner, even though it’s run and owned by a guy named Chuck, is hardly my idea of a dream kitchen. It’s cramped and hot, with absolutely no room for any creative flair. The most exciting thing on the menu is the steak. But, hey, it pays the bills.

I’ve always wanted my own place, and one day, I’m determined to get it. Only now, being on minimum wage, it’s going to take me far longer than it might have done before. My dreams have literally been put on the back burner, right next to the mushrooms.

The fact that I was on great wages in the city meant I was able to put away savings. I swore I wouldn’t dip into them, even when I was forced to move back home. And I didn’t. It’s my nest egg—the thing I’m keeping closely guarded so once I’ve gathered enough capital, I can open a restaurant where I’m in charge, and my recipes are of my own creation.

Beth comes into the kitchen with her usual cheery smile. The woman is always smiling and has such a joyous energy about her. It makes working in this place easier. There are four waitresses who work here, and Beth is my favorite. The others are great; they just don’t have Beth’s love for life.

“There’s a hunky guy out there who wants me to pass on compliments for his dinner,” she gushes.

I raise an eyebrow at her flushed cheeks. “That cute, huh?”

She raises her eyes to the ceiling and sighs. “Dara, this guy is hot. I mean, look.” She shows me her forearm. “I got burnt just standing three feet away.”

I laugh at her because firstly, she always entertains me with her quick wit, and secondly, I actually looked down at her arm.

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